to get on with it. I sweat away for ten minutes, and then realize I don’t know how to turn it off. I shout to Everett (GBH) for help – a black man who I sat next to during the dominoes encounter – but he just grins, or simply doesn’t understand my predicament. When my screaming goes up a decibel, Mr Maiden finally comes to my rescue. He can’t stop laughing as he shows me which button I have to press to bring the machine to a halt. It’s marked STOP – in red. I fall off the bike, exhausted, which causes much mirth among the other prisoners, especially the dominoes players. I use the rest of my time lying on a rubber mat recovering.
As the prisoners begin to make their way back to their cells – no gates, no searches – I’m called to Mr Maiden’s office. Once his door is closed and no other prisoner can overhear, he asks, Would you like to join the staff on Friday morning to assist with a special needs group from Dereham Adult Training Centre?’
‘Of course I would,’ I tell him.
Jimmy is the only other prisoner who presently helps that group, so perhaps you should have a word with him.’
I thank Mr Maiden and return to my cell. I don’t immediately take a shower as I am still sweating from the bicycle experience, so I use the time to call my PA, Alison. I tell her I need more A4 pads and pens because I’m currently writing two to three thousand words a day. I also need stamped envelopes addressed to her – large A4 size for the manuscript and slightly smaller ones so I can turn round my daily postbag. Alison tells me that because of the sackfuls of letters I am receiving both in prison and at the office, as well as having to type two scripts at once, she’s putting in even longer hours than when I was a free man.
‘And to think that you were worried about losing your job if I were to end up in jail,’ I remind her. Just wait until I get my hands back on my novel. You’ll be working weekends as well.’
Alison confirms that the last five chapters of Belmarsh have arrived safely, thanks to the cooperation of Roy, the censor. No such problem at Wayland, where you just drop your envelope in a postbox and off it goes. I remind her that I need the Belmarsh script back as soon as possible, to go over it once again before I let Jonathan Lloyd (my agent) read it for the first time. My final request is to be put through to Will.
He’s in Cambridge with Mary.’
Although I check to see how many units are left on the phonecard, I haven’t needed to worry about the problem lately as Dale seems to be able to arrange an endless supply of them.
I dial Cambridge and catch Mary, who is just leaving to chair a meeting at Addenbrooke’s Hospital, where she is deputy chairman. After a few words, she passes me over to Will. He is full of news and tells me Mum has been preparing in her usual diligent way for the Today interview. Since he spoke to me last, Andy Bearpark, who covered Kurdish affairs at the Overseas Development Administration during the relevant time, confirms he has been contacted by KPMG regarding the audit. Will feels the police will be left with little choice but to complete their initial report quickly and reinstate my D-cat. I thank him, particularly for the support he’s giving his mother. I then tell him that I’ve finished the Belmarsh section of the diaries and ask if he’s found time to read the odd chapter.
‘I just can’t face it, Dad. It’s bad enough that you’re there.’ I tell him that I have already decided that there will be three volumes of the prison diary: Hell, Purgatory and Heaven, with an epilogue called ‘Back to Earth’. This at least makes him laugh. As I’m telling him this, Jimmy passes me in the corridor and I turn to ask if he could spare me a moment. He nods, and waits until I finish my conversation with Will.
Jimmy has also heard that I may be joining them on the enhanced wing, but wonders if Nutboume’s information came from on high.
‘Exactly my thoughts,’ I tell him. I then mention that Mr Maiden has invited me to join them in the gym on Friday morning to assist with the special needs group. I’m surprised by his reaction.
‘You jammy bastard,’ says Jimmy. ‘I had to wait a couple of years before I was invited to join that shift, and you get asked after four days.’ Funnily enough I hadn’t thought of it as a perk, but simply as doing something worthwhile.
Jimmy invites me down to his cell for a drink, my only chance of having a Diet Coke. We’re joined by Jason, who spotted me in the corridor. Jason hands me a pair of slippers and a wash bag, which are normally only issued to enhanced prisoners.
‘You jammy bastard,’ repeats Jimmy, before he starts going on about his weight. Jimmy is six foot one, slim and athletic (see plate section). He trains every day in the gym and is known by the inmates as Brad Pitt.
‘More like Arm Pitt’ says Jason.
Jimmy smiles and continues to grumble, ‘I need to put on some weight.’
‘I like you as you are, darling,’ Jason replies.
I decide this is an ideal opportunity to ask them how drugs are smuggled into prison. Both throw out one-liners to my myriad questions, and between them continue my education on the subject.
Of the six major drugs – cannabis, speed, Ecstasy, cocaine, crack cocaine and heroin – only cannabis and heroin are in daily demand in most prisons. Each wing or block has a dealer, who in turn has runners who handle any new prisoners when they arrive on the induction wing. It’s known as Drug Induction. This is usually carried out in the yard during the long exercise break each morning. The price ranges from double the street value to as much as a tenfold mark-up depending on supply and demand; even in prison free enterprise prevails. Payment can be made in several ways. The most common currency is phonecards or tobacco. You can also send in cash to be credited to the dealer’s account, but most dealers don’t care for that route, as even the dumbest officer can work out what they’re up to. The preferred method is for the recipient of the drugs to arrange for a friend to send cash to the dealer’s contact on the outside, usually his girlfriend, wife or partner. Just as there is a canteen list of prices taped to the wall outside the main office, so there is an accepted but, unprinted list, of available drugs in any prison. For example, the price of five joints of cannabis would work out at around PS10 or five phonecards; a short line of cocaine would cost about PS10, while heroin, a joey or a bag, which is about half a gram, can cost as much as PS20.
Next we discuss the bigger problem of how to get the gear into prison. Jason tells me that there are several ways. The most obvious is via visits, but this is not common as the punishment for being caught usually fits the crime, for both the visitor and the prisoner. If you are caught, you automatically lose your visits and the use of phonecards. For most prisoners this is their only lifeline to the outside world. Few, other than desperate heroin addicts, are willing to sacrifice being able to see their family and friends once a fortnight or speak to them regularly on the phone. So most dealers revert to other safer methods because were they to be caught twice, they not only lose the right to a phonecard as well as a visit, but will be charged with the offence and can expect to have time added to their sentence.
‘What are the other methods?’ I ask.
‘You can arrange to have gear thrown over the wall at a designated time so it can be picked up by a gardener or a litter collector. Helps to supplement their seven pounds a week wages,’ Jason explains. ‘But home leave or town visits are still the most common source of drugs coming in. A clever courier can earn some extra cash prior to being released.’
‘Mind you,’ adds Jimmy, ‘if you’re caught bringing gear in, not only do you lose all your privileges, but you can be transferred to an A-cat with time added to your sentence.’
‘What about by post?’ I ask.
‘Sending in a ballpoint pen is a common method,’ Jason says. ‘You half fill the tube with heroin and leave the bottom half full of ink, so that when the screws remove the little cap on the bottom they can only see the ink. They could break the tube in half, but that might mean having to replace as many as a hundred biros a week. But the most common approach still involves brown envelopes and underneath stamps.’
‘Envelopes?’ I ask.
‘Down the side of most large brown envelopes is a flap. If you lift it carefully you can place a line of heroin along the inside and carefully seal it back up again. When it comes in the post it looks like junk mail or a circular, but it could be hiding up to a hundred quid’s worth of skag.’
‘One prisoner went over the top recently,’ says Jimmy. ‘He’d been enhanced and put on the special wing. One of our privileges is that we can hang curtains in our cell. When his selected curtains arrived, prison staff found the seams were weighed down with heroin. The inmate was immediately locked up in segregation and lost all his privileges.’
‘And did he also get time added to his sentence?’
‘No,’ Jason replies. ‘He claimed that the curtains were sent in by his co-defendant from the original trial in an attempt to stitch him up.’ I like the use of the words ‘stitch him up’ in this context. ‘Not only did he get away with
