TOMMY JACKSON’S ROUTE to the gates had been straightforward. Skinny, small and nimble, he had twisted and squeezed himself into any gap he found in the tightly packed wall of angry prisoners. If he pushed too hard, if anyone took offence, their anger lasted only until they recognized him. Running errands for seven prisons wins you friends and a prisoner’s patience. ‘Crier comin’ through!’ was the shout, and the sailors moved if they could.
Tacking right, he was twenty yards from the gates when he felt powerful hands around his mouth and waist, a full beard pushing against his neck. He knew who it was from the smell. Only one of the Rough Allies smoked cigarillos.
‘And you are just who I wanted to see,’ growled Cobb. ‘It was good of the crowd to point you out.’ He pushed him out towards Block Two, the nearest of the prisons, Cobb’s face the only weapon needed to clear the way.
Clear of the crowd, Cobb threw Tommy against the wall of Two. The scraping tool appeared in Cobb’s hand and he held it tightly to Tommy’s throat.
‘You saw. You knew. You told,’ he breathed. Tommy, panic in his eyes, knew exactly what Cobb was talking about. ‘You need me to explain?’ Tommy shook his head.
‘No, that’s ’cos you’re smart. Traitorous little bastard, but smart all the same. You saw Lane with the gun, didn’t you? You guessed what he had and then you told that cockroach Crafus.’
Tommy hadn’t seen Cobb in a rage like this before. He gave the smallest of nods, as if to move any more would enrage Cobb further. Cobb pushed the blade until its tip pierced Tommy’s skin. ‘’Cos the truth, Mr Jackson, is that you love it with the niggers, don’t you? If you had to choose between them and your own, you’d pick the niggers every time.’
Tommy shook his head now, eyes swimming with tears. ‘They been good to me is all,’ he managed, his mouth hardly moving.
‘I bet they have,’ spat Cobb. ‘You know our escape failed, yes? While you were in that damn fool play, brave Americans were being attacked.’ His spittle ran down Tommy’s face. ‘So now you’re comin’ to a show with me. You’re goin’ to climb on my shoulders and we’re goin’ to a show.’ Cobb held the bloody scraping tool blade in front of Tommy’s eyes. ‘And if you shout and scream like a girl, I’ll cut your cock off. I hope I’m makin’ it quite clear?’
Tommy nodded. ‘Yes, sir, Mr Cobb, sir.’