Orders to kill

“Gavin, you can’t be serious.”

“Yes, I’ve been one for 15 years,” I said.

“Prove it.”

“Let’s get into the courtyard and I’ll tell you more.”

The siren rang out, and the guards marched 50 prisoners past their locked cells and into the courtyard for free time.

Together we sat at the top of our stands, looking at everyone working out, with the fence behind us. 10 guards walked around with submachine guns, ready to use them to stop any riots as they had in previous years. This was a prison of hardened criminals.

“Why are you a spy? Why are you telling me this now?” asked Joe.

“Wow, one at a time,” I whispered.

The wind carried the words to our group of prisoners.

“What the hell?” rang out in different languages.

They knew my secret now. And they did not look happy.

They turned into an angry mob and were after me. Everyone called the biggest man in the group ‘Arne’, but he was bigger than Arnold Schwarzenegger. He climbed up to me and placed his black face up against mine. In fright, I fell backward over the stand, dropping like a cat I fell on my feet. I started running and the entire group chased me.

Joe pulled out a chiv made from a toothbrush and tried to stop them.

“Let’s hear what Gavin has got to say. I agree with you guys. He needs to give us an explanation.”

I lay on the muddy ground with my face in the air. The rain had cleared the dust the earlier evening and I could see the Southern Cross as sharp as daylight.

Arne sat spread-eagled on my legs.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you.”

We knew he had killed other inmates with his bare hands. I could kill him, but I wasn't going to reveal any secrets. My handler had given me a job to do, and I was determined to do it.

“Arne, take it easy. Why do you listen in on private conversations?”

I wanted to get him angry.

I woke up in the sick bay.

“What happened?” I asked the doctor.

He ignored me. He checked the drip and walked out. I felt a biting in my wrists and ankles. I had to find out what had happened before I planned my next move.

I felt a tugging at my shirt. I grabbed the arm, then twisted it and pulled it over the bed.

“Shit, that bloody hurt, Gavin. It’s me, Joe.”

“Sorry. Stay quiet. Does the doctor know you are in here?”

“No.”

“You should see your face.”

“You should see yours.“

“It hurts. In a few days, and I’ll be well again.”

“Gavin, why did you …”

His voice disappeared.

“Joe, where are you?”

“Why are you talking?” asked the doctor.

I closed my eyes.

“I’ll join you in just a minute, my sweetheart… That’s the king on top of the hill… It’s your birthday tomorrow… ”

A hard slap woke me from my pretense. I learned to talk in my sleep during the fourth year of training.

Where was Joe?

Two guards undid the handcuffs. I couldn’t try a thing because another two had machine guns. I was too out of it to ask where they were taking me. They pulled me off the bed and the needle from the drip ripped out my right arm. Fortunately, I wasn’t a bleeder.

The guards dragged me by the shoulders with my bare feet scraping on the ground. The guards must have heard by now that I was a spy. They dropped me outside the warden’s office and, for good measure, kicked me in the stomach to instill fear in me. It didn’t work.

The door opened and out stepped the warden.

“Sit him in the spikey chair.”

The guards lifted me onto the spikes that protruded from the iron chair. This was the warden’s favorite form of torture.

“Leave him with me,” the warden barked at the guards.

“But warden, that’s against your rules.”

“Get out of here, you morons.”

Silence shrouded us as the warden poured two glasses of Scotch whiskey.

Coming round to my side of the desk.

“What the hell were you thinking, you idiot!” he belted out. After he kicked the side of his desk, he guided his right index finger to his lips.

“Just waiting to see if anyone is listening,” he said.

I winked at him with my left eye. My right eye wouldn’t open. He lifted his hands in a gesture for me to get off the chair.

Wow, it still hurts.

“What have you found out?”

After a huge gulp, I said, “Nothing yet, but I’m getting close.”

“You’ve got a month before the exchange of prisoners.”

“Why did you tell Joe that you are a spy?”

“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing. I’ll keep in touch and pass on messages via the normal route.”

“Gavin, I’ll have to send you to the hole.”

“That’s okay.”

“Guards, take the prisoner and put him in the hole for 24 hours. That should get him talking,” the warden blurted out through the door.

“Only a day, Sir, he deserves more than that. Do you know he’s a spy?”

“That’s absolute rubbish. I’ll need proof,” said the warden.

“Put him in the hole for two days, then.”

“That’s more like it, warden,” both guards sang together in absolute delight.

I squeezed my eyes and forehead together into a confused squint.

As I was being dragged out by the collar, the warden gave me two taps and a brush with his right hand on the back. This was our signal that he’d see me soon.

It felt like a star had burst as I tried to open my eyes. My hands automatically blocked the daylight. I had to stretch my legs.

“How long have I been in here?” I asked.

“Ten days,” I heard a giggle from a guard.

“Come on, crawl out, you dirty pig.”

“Just joking,” as they pushed me back into the hole.

I had been in the prison for a week, and only had a few ideas of who was the leader of the organized gang. I needed to get more information from the warden.

It felt like an hour, but twenty minutes later, the door to the hole creaked open and the arms grabbed me and pulled me to the floor.

“Go on Arne, get in there, you black monster,” said one of the five guards, who was dragging him by the handcuffs that held his ankles and wrists.

It was fortunate that there was only one hole, and it was only big enough for one prisoner at a time.

The warden must have arranged it, to keep Arne away from me.

Instead of walking me to my cell, they took me straight to the yard. Joe was waiting for me.

Why did he protect me when the mob was after me?

I’d missed something.

“Hey Gavin, you’re looking a darn sight better.”

“Why did you save me from the gang?” I asked.

He guided me towards the shed. There was a small private space for us to talk. We huddled together on our haunches and whispered. It intrigued me, this sudden change in Joe’s behavior.

“I have a confession to make,” he said.

He stared at my pupils, and I guess he was waiting for some reaction.

He began.

“Your last job was more successful than you were told in the brief.”

How did he know that?

I moved away from him and stood up, expecting a confrontation. He grabbed my arm, pulling me into the crouching position.

“Don’t panic, mate.”

Who was Joe, and why was he here?

“After you shot the leader of the Chinese Mafia, you have a target on your back. Your shot from over a kilometer away is talked about in the agency. I work for the same agency as you.”

“But I’ve never met you.”

“I’ve been undercover for five and a half years and infiltrated a top-level group in the Mafia. I had to kill someone to get sent here.”

“Does the warden know the truth?”

“No, he doesn’t. The fewer people who know, the fewer have to die.”

“Joe, what are the orders from your handler? Tell me the truth now. No lies.”

“I’m here to protect you until we can get you to a safe house.”