23

Harry and I were receiving too much deference. The inmates of this prison knew I’d killed Ratty and they knew I was going to get away with it. It also seemed that the information about my prints hadn’t leaked or the reaction to me would be very different. What I hadn’t recognised was that the killing gave me a lot of respect and I’d gained that respect without exerting any violence to force compliance of my wishes. I’d also successfully gone up against Tug Wilson in front of a large audience and that had knocked the prestige of the present power regime. I hadn’t of course expressed my wishes but there were a lot of prisoners who wanted the reign of Mr Wharton to end. The problem was that Mr Wharton was becoming concerned. The fact that we were now known as Captain and Sergeant was also a threatening factor for Mr Wharton. Tug Wilson guarded him. Tug was nearly as big as Harry with a reputation as a sadistic, homosexual bully. I was surprised I’d taken him. In fact, surprise had given me the edge. Mr Wharton had now recruited two other minders, Pete Costello and Marty Clifford, probably because of the dining room incident with Tug. These two had been muscle for hire in the prison but now they were aligned with the current power structure. Yes, I thought, Harry and I were vulnerable.

It was a Friday morning. Harry and I went to breakfast. Seemed a normal day. We joined the end of the queue to the servery. Then the two guys who were chatting in front of us went quiet and moved out of the queue, and in behind us. One of the group of three now in front of us then became aware that we were there. He brought that to the attention of the other two and all three moved out of the queue and joined behind us.

Harry said very quietly, ‘Say and do nothing, Captain.’

We moved rapidly down the queue and we were served with very generous helpings of the things we chose. Some people, like Mr Wharton and Tug Wilson, always walked to the front of the queue, as did one or two others like Dad. Dad was the oldest prisoner and wasn’t only respected because he was an old man, a fine man, but he was also a frail man. I was determined we wouldn’t adopt the arrogance of the few like Mr Wharton and Tug Wilson who regarded it as their right to queue jump. I had an urge to thank the people who moved aside for us but I recognised Harry’s instruction to say and do nothing was a wise one. If we said nothing then it hadn’t happened and if it hadn’t happened then there was no reason to say anything.

As we left the servery with our trays, Mr Wharton and Tug Wilson were standing looking at us. I presume it was supposed to be some sort of threat.

I smiled and said, ‘Good morning gentlemen.’ Tug went to step forward but Mr Wharton just put his arm in front of him.

‘Good morning, Jake.’ He had a quiet voice.

This was the first time I had been up close to him. He was in the usual orange suit but he was, as always, wearing a brown trilby hat set towards the back of his head like Frank Sinatra. He wasn’t a tall man but bulky with a large head and fat lips. On the wrist of the arm he had put in front of Wilson was a large gold watch with a heavyweight gold wrist strap. He held out his right hand to be shaken. I took it and we shook hands. On this wrist he had a very heavy gold chain. His brown eyes held mine. He smiled.

‘I think we may need to have a conversation soon, Jake.’ And he let go of my hand and turned away.

We went to the table where we usually sat. There were three spaces.

‘Can we join you?’ I asked. This had been my routine learned in the States. Always be polite. One of the seated men went to leave.

‘Flash, you haven’t finished your breakfast.’ I smiled.

He sat down again. They were all looking at me. There was uncertainty in their expressions.

‘Fellas, today’s Friday and it isn’t really different from yesterday and tomorrow will be much the same as today. I’m the same, Sergeant’s the same and you’re the same so let’s do the same things as before.’

They were all thinking, mulling over what I’d said.

Flash Gordon smiled. ‘Thank you, Captain.’

‘You’re very welcome, Flash.’

Haltingly the conversation on the merits of betting to win as opposed to betting each way was resumed. I had to prepare some stuff for my class, so I had to leave soon after.

‘Excuse me please, gentlemen,’ I said and the people at the table responded as they normally did to me leaving. At least some things were still normal. As I left the dining room I could feel over a hundred pairs of eyes watching me or was I becoming paranoid?

On the landing outside of my cell was Tom. Tom was a finder. He could find anything that you wanted. He traded in everything except drugs and he would have traded in them except it was, as he described it, ‘heavy shit’.

‘Morning, Captain, I just wondered if you needed anything.’ He’d never approached me before but I knew that Harry had dealings with him.

‘I don’t think so, Tom.’

‘I’ve left you a few items as a token of goodwill.’

‘Thank you, Tom. Can you get me some information?’

‘Information can get heavy, Captain. It depends what it is.’

‘I just wondered what visitors Jase had before he was topped and what visitors Mr Wharton had.’

‘I reckon I might be able to do that. Would be a pleasure. I liked Jase.’

‘What will that cost me?’

‘You’re a very special customer, Captain. I’m sure you’ll reward me when I’m in need.’

Leadership is a very funny thing, as is respect. Leaders in prison were the same as leaders elsewhere. They were just people who had followers and like elsewhere, they were only real leaders if the people wanted to follow them. Respect in here could be odd and was different from outside. I’m unsure what it was for any one person to respect another but I clearly had the respect of many convicts in here. Perhaps being a killer and getting away with it was a core. It was also clear that Harry had emerged as the leader of The Brothers. Their leadership had been fragmented, although the factions were cooperative towards each other. Now the factions seemed to be coalescing under Harry. I expect that would be seen as a threat by some in here. Black power was bound to be seen as a threat. There were still three groups: the Afro-Caribbeans, the Africans and the Asians (mainly Indians and Pakistanis; they were two subgroups. The difference was religion, so the Pakistani group was Muslim and had some other Middle Eastern individuals in it).

A power struggle was emerging and, unlike the political scene, the contestants hadn’t generated it; it was coming from the prisoners and it was pitching Mr Wharton and Tug Wilson against Harry and me. We hadn’t chosen this confrontation; it had just happened and I think the catalyst had been me killing Ratty, underpinned by the incident with Tug Wilson in the dining room.