4
HARRY SPENT the next twenty-nine days cleaning the latrines on A block, and it wasn’t until another first-timer appeared on the wing that Hessler finally released him from his duties and began to make someone else’s life hell.
‘Damn man’s a psycho,’ said Quinn. ‘Siddell’s still willing to offer you a job in the kitchen, but Hessler’s vetoed it.’ Harry didn’t comment. ‘But the news isn’t all bad,’ Quinn suggested, ‘because I’ve just heard that Andy Savatori, the deputy librarian, has been granted parole. He’s due to be released next month and, even better, no one else seems to want his job.’
‘Deakins would,’ said Harry under his breath. ‘So what do I have to do, to make sure I get it?’
‘Nothing. In fact, try to give the impression you’re not that interested, and keep out of Hessler’s way, because we know the warden’s on your side.’
The next month dragged on, each day seeming longer than the one before. Harry visited the library every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday between six and seven, but Max Lloyd, the senior librarian, gave him no reason to believe he was being considered for the post. Savatori, his deputy, remained tight-lipped, although he clearly knew something.
‘I don’t think Lloyd wants me to be his deputy,’ said Harry after lights out one evening.
‘Lloyd won’t have a say about it,’ said Quinn. ‘That’s the warden’s decision.’
But Harry wasn’t convinced. ‘I suspect Hessler and Lloyd are working together to make sure I don’t get the job.’
‘You’re becoming para- what’s the word?’ said Quinn.
‘Paranoid.’
‘Yeah, that’s what you’re becoming, not that I’m sure what it means.’
‘Suffering from unfounded suspicions,’ said Harry.
‘Couldn’t have put it better myself!’
Harry wasn’t convinced that his suspicions were unfounded and, a week later, Savatori took him to one side and confirmed his worst fears.
‘Hessler’s put up three cons for the warden’s consideration, and your name isn’t on the list.’
‘Then that’s that,’ said Harry, thumping the side of his leg. ‘I’m going to be a wing cleaner for the rest of my days.’
‘Not necessarily,’ said Savatori. ‘Come and see me the day before I’m due to be discharged.’
‘But by then it will be too late.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Savatori, without explanation. ‘Meanwhile, study every page of this very carefully.’ He handed Harry a heavy, leather-bound tome that rarely left the library.
Harry sat on the top bunk and opened the cover of the 273-page prison handbook. Before he’d reached page 6, he began to make notes. Long before he’d started reading the book a second time, a plan had begun to form in his mind.
He knew his timing would be critical, and both acts would have to be rehearsed, particularly as he would be on stage when the curtain went up. He accepted that he couldn’t go ahead with his plan until after Savatori had been released, even though a new deputy librarian had already been appointed.
When Harry carried out a dress rehearsal in the privacy of their cell, Quinn told him that he was not only paranoid, but crazy, because, he assured him, his second performance would be in solitary.
The warden made his monthly rounds of each block on a Monday morning, so Harry knew that he’d have to wait for three weeks after Savatori had been discharged, before he would reappear on A block. Swanson always took the same route, and prisoners knew that if they valued their skin, they disappeared out of sight the moment he came into view.
When Swanson stepped on to the top floor of A block that Monday morning, Harry was waiting to greet him, mop in hand. Hessler slipped in behind the warden, and waved his truncheon to indicate that if Bradshaw valued his life, he should step aside. Harry didn’t budge, leaving the warden with no choice but to stop in his tracks.
‘Good morning, warden,’ said Harry, as if they bumped into each other regularly.
Swanson was surprised to come face-to-face with a prisoner on his rounds, and even more surprised when one spoke to him. He looked more closely at Harry. ‘Bradshaw, isn’t it?’
‘You have a good memory, sir.’
‘I also remember your interest in literature. I was surprised when you turned down the job as deputy librarian.’
‘I was never offered the job,’ said Harry. ‘If I had been, I would have accepted it with alacrity,’ he added, which clearly took the warden by surprise.
Turning to Hessler, Swanson said, ‘You told me Bradshaw didn’t want the job.’
Harry jumped in before Hessler could reply. ‘Probably my fault, sir. I didn’t realize I had to apply for the position.’
‘I see,’ said the warden. ‘Well, that would explain it. And I can tell you, Bradshaw, that the new man doesn’t know the difference between Plato and Pluto.’ Harry burst out laughing. Hessler remained tight-lipped.
‘A good analogy, sir,’ said Harry as the warden attempted to move on. But Harry hadn’t finished. He thought Hessler would explode when he removed an envelope from his jacket and handed it to the warden.
‘What’s this?’ Swanson asked suspiciously.
‘An official request to address the board when they make their quarterly visit to the prison next Tuesday, which is my prerogative under statute thirty-two of the penal code. I’ve sent a copy of the request to my lawyer, Mr Sefton Jelks.’ For the first time, the warden looked anxious. Hessler could barely contain himself.
‘Will you be making a complaint?’ asked the warden cautiously.
Harry stared directly at Hessler before replying, ‘Under statute one-one-six, it is my right not to disclose to any member of the prison staff why I wish to address the board, as I’m sure you’re aware, warden.’
‘Yes, of course, Bradshaw,’ said the warden, sounding flustered.
‘But it is my intention, among other things, to inform the board of the importance you place on including literature and religion as part of our daily lives.’ Harry stood aside to allow the warden to continue on his way.
‘Thank you, Bradshaw,’ he said. ‘That’s good of you.’
‘I’ll be seeing you later, Bradshaw,’ hissed Hessler under his breath.
‘I’ll look forward to that,’ said Harry, loud enough for Mr Swanson to hear.
Harry’s confrontation with the warden was the main topic of conversation among the prisoners in the dinner queue, and when Quinn returned from the kitchen later that evening, he warned Harry that the rumour on the block was that once lights were out, Hessler was likely to kill him.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Harry calmly. ‘You see, the problem with being a bully is that on the flipside of that particular coin, you’ll find the imprint of a coward.’
Quinn didn’t look convinced.
Harry didn’t have long to wait to prove his point, because within moments of lights out, the cell door swung open and Hessler strolled in, swinging his truncheon.
‘Quinn, out,’ he said, not taking his eyes off Harry. Once the Irishman had scurried on to the landing, Hessler closed the cell door and said, ‘I’ve been looking forward to this all day, Bradshaw. You’re about to discover how many bones you’ve got in your body.’
‘I don’t think so, Mr Hessler,’ said Harry, not flinching.
‘And what do you think will save you?’ asked Hessler, advancing. ‘The warden isn’t around to rescue you this time.’
‘I don’t need the warden,’ said Harry. ‘Not while you’re being considered for promotion,’ he added, meeting Hessler’s stare. ‘I’m reliably informed that you’ll be appearing before the board next Tuesday afternoon at two o’clock.’
‘So what?’ said Hessler, now less than a foot away.
‘You’ve clearly forgotten that
