Hard Landing

on the out to make the approach.'

'What do you reckon it would cost? To get rid of evidence?'

'Hypothetically?'

'Yeah.'

'Thirty grand. Forty, maybe.'

Shepherd stopped pedalling. 'Forty thousand quid?'

'That's why I was asking if you had ready money. You can't piss around, Bob. And buying off a cop has to be a hell of a lot cheaper than buying off a judge.' He grinned again. 'Hypothetically.'

Shepherd carried his lunch tray back to the cell. Cottage pie, chips and baked beans. Chocolate pudding and custard. It was no wonder that so many men on the spur were overweight.

Lee was still in the queue down on the ones, but Shepherd sat on his bunk and toyed with his food. The conversation he'd had with Carpenter had been a big step forward. He had been far more forthcoming than Shepherd could have hoped. He'd practically admitted to paying off cops on the outside, and come close to suggesting that Shepherd bribe a policeman and kill a witness. Shepherd's word on its own wouldn't be good enough to get a conviction, though. He'd have to do what Hargrove wanted and wear a wire. But that would be taking one hell of a risk.

He ate a forkful of cottage pie. It was greasy and tasteless, the potato lumpy and cold.

Another problem was getting on the gym list regularly. That would mean persuading Lloyd-Davies to put him on it or paying off Digger again. Shepherd had to know when and where he'd be talking to Carpenter: it would be far too dangerous to wear a wire all the time. And what would he do with the wire when he wasn't wearing it? There was hardly any space in the cramped cell, and it would be next to impossible to keep it hidden from Lee. Hargrove had suggested he use a recorder made to look like a CD player or Walkman, but it had to be functional or Lee would be suspicious. And Shepherd was all too well aware of how often equipment malfunctioned. He'd experienced everything from leaking batteries to microphone feedback. Usually on an undercover operation he'd have back-up close by so that if something went wrong he could be pulled out, but that wasn't possible in Shelton.

Shepherd had confirmation that Carpenter was killing witnesses and destroying evidence, but he didn't know yet how he was doing it and who was helping him. Shepherd suspected it was Tony Stafford, but Hargrove was going to want proof. Hargrove knew exactly how dangerous it would be for Shepherd to wear a wire, but he'd still asked - because he knew that if Carpenter wasn't stopped more people would die on the outside until he got what he wanted. His freedom.

Healey appeared at the door to Carpenter's cell. 'Got your papers here, Carpenter,' said the prison officer.

'Thanks, Mr Healey,' said Carpenter. He went to the door and took them. The Daily Mail, the Daily Telegraph and the Guardian. 'What was the hold-up?' As a rule the papers arrived before dinner.

'Short-staffed today. We didn't have anyone to check them. The post's running late too.'

Carpenter took his papers over to the table and flicked through the Guardian. The spur always seemed to be short-staffed on Saturdays. The officers didn't like working weekends. The envelope was in the City section. He ripped it open and took out a single sheet of paper. The tapes had been wiped. Now only Sandy Roper stood between him and freedom. And Kim Fletcher was on the case.

A prisoner appeared at the door. It was Andy Philpott.

'Got your papers, Mr Carpenter.' He handed Carpenter The Times and the Mirror.

'Thanks, Andy,' said Carpenter.

'Got your cappuccino, too,' said Philpott. He put a box of sachets on Carpenter's bunk.

Philpott was in his early twenties, remanded on burglary charges. Fifty-seven offences. Despite being a prolific housebreaker he had little in the way of money to show for it. His savings had soon gone to pay his lawyers, and now his wife and small child had to rely on family income support. He used his prison allowance to purchase items Carpenter wanted from the canteen, and Carpenter paid his wife on the out, ten pounds for every pound spent inside. It was an arrangement that suited them both. Philpott wasn't a smoker and didn't have a sweet tooth, and he was prepared to survive on prison food if it meant his family had an easier life.

'Appreciate it,' said Carpenter. As Philpott left, Digger arrived at the cell door.

'Okay if I come in, Gerry?' asked Digger.

'Sure,' said Carpenter. He waved at the chair. 'Please.'

Digger sat down. 'Drink?' Carpenter had a selection of bottles and cans on his table including Fanta, Coca- Cola, 7-Up, orange juice and sparkling water. He also had tea-bags, coffee, the cappuccino sachets and two flasks of hot water.

'OJ's fine,' said Digger. Carpenter poured him some and handed the glass to him.

'How's things?'

'Fine,' said Digger. 'There's a new guy on the ones bringing in crack next week. He's done hard time before so he knows the score. His girlfriend can regurgitate at will, he says.'

'More detail than I needed.' Carpenter laughed. 'How much?'

'He says twenty grams but I'll check he's not pulling a fast one. We're taking thirty per cent but if it becomes regular we'll take more.' Digger reached into the pocket of his tracksuit and gave Carpenter a gold band. 'There's the ring you wanted.'

Carpenter took it, pulled a face, then placed it on his pillow. 'What happened to Jurczak?'

'Got stamped on. The new guy, Macdonald. He wanted to be on the cleaning crew.'

'Sounds like he got what he wanted.'

Digger shrugged. 'Macdonald came through with five hundred. Someone had to get the job, seemed easier to give him what he wanted.'

'Is he going to be a problem?'

'I can handle him.'

'Is that what Needles thought?'

'He caught him by surprise.'

Carpenter laughed.

Digger's face hardened. 'He hit him while he wasn't looking.'

'Is Needles letting bygones be bygones?'

'It's personal so I'm not interfering. If he wants to stick Macdonald, that's his call.'

'I don't want the spur locked down because there's blood on the floor,' said Carpenter. 'If it turns into a gang war, we'll all suffer.'

'Macdonald's a loner, he won't have anyone backing him up. But I hear what you're saying, Gerry.'

'What do think of him, this Macdonald?'

'Keeps himself to himself unless there's something he wants. Then he goes for it.'

'Is he into you for anything?'

'Doesn't smoke, doesn't do drugs. Isn't interested in betting. Hardly ever uses the phone. Doesn't even spend at the canteen.'

'The man's a saint?'

'It's like he's not even here.'

'Doesn't look like a hard man, but Needles is no pushover.'

'Macdonald's hard, all right, even if he's not big.'

'But you can handle him?'

'I won't be fighting him. What he wanted wasn't unreasonable. And he paid the five hundred straight away. Needles was taking liberties, so more fool him.'

'Who paid?'

'Some guy on the out. Said he was his uncle. Turned up at my sister's with the readies in an envelope.'

'Notes okay?'

'Do me a favour, Gerry, I wasn't born yesterday.' He drained his glass and placed it on the table. 'Thanks for the juice.'

'Thanks for dropping by.'