His fellow guards grinned. There was a distinct one-sided animosity between the regular land-based prison guards and their Styx equivalents. The land guards resented the sizeable disparity between their perks and remunerations and those of the Styx custodians. The rumour was that with bonuses and special allowances the undersea guards got twice the annual pay of the land ones. It was also well known that, apart from the negative aspects of living under pressure at the bottom of the sea, the Styx amenities such as food and leisure facilities were of a far higher standard.
‘It is kinda nice, ain’t it?’ Palanski replied, not remotely insulted. Indeed, the Styx guards were quite used to being needled by their surface colleagues. ‘Designed by Ralph Lauren, tailored to the individual, breathable fabric for added comfort. Oh, and a real large wallet pocket inside the jacket . . . for extra-large wallets.’ A wink finished off the rejoinder.
The senior guard’s smirk turned into a scowl. ‘Let’s do it,’ he said and stepped outside as one of his men took over his position and closed the door.
Stratton looked down the line of prisoners, a variety of disagreeable-looking individuals.The man beside him finally glanced at him but when Stratton met his gaze he looked away.
A few minutes later the door opened and the senior guard stepped back into the room while Palanski waited outside.The prisoner closest to the door was unshackled. ‘On your feet,’ the senior guard said. The prisoner was escorted out of the room and the door was secured once again.
Several minutes later the guards returned to collect the next prisoner and the process was repeated. Ten minutes later Stratton was the last remaining prisoner and the guards returned to unshackle him. ‘On your feet.’
As Stratton stepped through the door and walked through a narrow low-ceilinged hangar he could smell the distinctive odour of ripe sea kelp and hear the distant cavernous echo of lapping water. A curtain of mildew-stained overlapping strips of opaque plastic hung from the ceiling across the width of the hangar.The escorting guard pushed through, holding it open for Stratton.The hangar continued for a short distance, the concrete floor meeting a flight of metal steps that led down onto a landing made of heavy steel girders. As Stratton walked along it he could see black lapping water through the chequered metal pattern of the flooring.
Up ahead, moored alongside one of several landing fingers, was a low, slender fibreglass passenger craft, its cabin and cockpit enclosed. Gann stood on the open aft deck, eyeing him coldly.
Stratton was led up a short gangway and onto the deck. Gann took hold of him brusquely and shoved him towards the opening into the cabin. Stratton ducked inside to find the other four prisoners already shackled to a long metal bench. Palanski was standing at the far end of the cabin, his back to a couple of pilots inside the sealed cockpit. Gann followed Stratton inside and after chaining him into his seat he went back outside to complete the exchange formalities with the senior guard.When he returned he shut the door behind him, leaving two guards outside on the aft deck pulling on life jackets.
Gann unhooked a handset from the wall and held it to his mouth.‘Clear to depart,’ he said before returning the handset to its clip. His words were echoed over a speaker by the pilot and the engine revved loudly. A large door at the end of the hangar opened, pulled up into the ceiling, and the boat puttered through it.
‘Should for any reason the boat develop problems and begin to sink a device at the end of the row might be activated that will release your chains,’ Gann said. ‘You notice I said “might”.’ He grinned. ‘The mood I’m in right now it ain’t gonna happen so do something to cheer me up . . . Under your seats you’ll find life jackets. I’m supposed to show you how to put them on like I was an air hostess but you’ll figure ’em out for yourselves if you need to. Anyone don’t understand what I’m saying, then tough shit,’ he said, looking at Ramos whose sudden smirk implied that he understood well enough. Gann smiled back for just a second.
The sun spilled in through the windows as the boat moved out of the hangar and the grey ocean took up the forward panorama. A prisoner said something to the one beside him and Gann walked down the narrow aisle and stopped in front of the offending talker. ‘I’m gonna say this just once, fuckwit. No one talks on this boat except me . . . and Mr Palanski.You belong to me now. This ain’t like the cushy little numbers you just left,’ he said, addressing all of them. ‘You have any complaints, you talk to me. Any problems, you talk to me. Just one word of advice, though. I don’t like people talking to me. Got that?’
‘Whatever you say, boss man,’ the prisoner replied, sarcasm clear in his tone.
Gann slammed him brutally across the face with the back of his hand and leaned in even closer as if he wanted to bite the prisoner’s face off. ‘I said no talking - and no fucking attitude, neither. Now. You got any complaints?’
The man licked his split lip, tasting the blood as he looked at Gann with death in his eyes. But, wisely, he choked back his response.
‘Learn fast. It’ll keep you healthy in Styx. It’s unhealthy enough down there as it is.’
The boat rocked in the swell but Gann did not grab hold of anything to steady himself, spreading his large powerful legs to maintain his balance.
Stratton could not see very much of the ocean outside from where he was sitting but he knew the ferry platform was only a couple of miles away. Gann brushed past him to take up his position by the rear door, his hand on his utility belt beside his baton and zapper, his other hand on his Mace dispenser, his stare fixed on the prisoners as if hoping one of them might give him an excuse to launch himself at them.
The ferry platform eventually loomed into sight as the vessel manoeuvred to enter a docking bay. It was an impressive construction, like the top section of an oil platform.The most prominent feature was a towering derrick with a dozen heavy cables passing over large wheels at the top before they stretched down at an angle into the roof of a building on the edge of the platform.
The cabin cruiser slipped snugly into its tailored dock and gently hit the bumpers at the end. Several platform guards, all wearing life vests over brilliant yellow jackets, secured the vessel into place, its gunwales level with the landing deck.
Gann opened the rear door and faced his passengers. ‘I’m gonna unlock your chains and we’re all gonna walk together in a line across the platform to the ferry housing. For those of you who think it might be risky on our part to have all prisoners walkin’ at once even though you still got your hand chains, that’s because there’s nowhere to go from this platform - nowhere but down, that is. And you can either do that in the comfort of the ferry where you can breathe, or you can jump or get shoved off the side. Either way you’re going to the bottom . . . I know you’ll be surprised to hear I don’t give a rat’s ass which you choose. Anyone screws around I’ll personally toss ’em over the side.’
Gann undid a latch at the end of the bench, took hold of a lever and pulled it up with some effort. Every prisoner’s hand shackles were released from the bench between their legs although their hands remained chained together at the wrists. ‘Stand up,’ he called out and the prisoners got to their feet with a clatter of metal. ‘Turn towards me.’
Stratton faced Gann’s broad chest an arm’s length away.
‘Forward march,’ Gann said as he stepped back through the door. ‘Move it.’
Stratton walked outside and onto the short gangway.
‘Keep going,’ Gann said. ‘Follow the guard.’
Stratton stepped off the gangway onto the wooden deck of the jetty, walked across it and up another steep gangway with a hinge at the top that allowed it to rise and fall with the ocean swell. He stepped onto the main platform, the sea visible through a steel-mesh floor, and followed the guard at an easy pace that allowed the others to catch up.The prisoners’ ankle and wrist chains clinked behind him as they walked along a covered ramp that led to another platform connected by massive chains that allowed it to move independently of the docking section.
They approached the entrances to two hangars joined together, each with several thick wire cables coming down at steep angles from the derrick wheels and passing through openings in the roofs.A sign above the entrance to the left-hand hangar read
Inside, the hangar was fully enclosed, the mesh floor limited to a central pathway with open water either side. A squat craft that looked like some kind of submarine occupied the right bay, while the left bay was empty. Thick, greasy cables entered through the hangar roof, one set dropping into the left bay and disappearing beneath the water, the other set crossing over the top of the squat vessel and through a complex series of wheels on a heavy framework rather like that of a cable car. As Stratton looked at the steel vessel, which was painted white
