With his anger still festering, Garston checked that the revolver he was carrying was properly concealed, making sure it could easily be reached when the time came.
When he ordered them to glove up, Errol fished a pair of rubber gloves out of his pocket and began inserting his large, calloused hands into them. To his annoyance, Angela raised her rubber-coated hands and wriggled them at him. “Already done,” she said, smugly.
“Smart arsed cow,” he mumbled. If he hadn’t needed her for the breakout, he would have slapped the smirk from her face.
After what seemed like an age, the doors finally slid open on the third floor, announcing their arrival with a pleasant ping. Garston poked his head outside, cautiously checking left and right.
The corridor was clear and he signalled for them to step out of the lift.
“Right, you two,” he said, pulling the flimsy white mask out of his pocket. “No fuck-ups from here on in or we’re all done for.” As he spoke, he carefully tugged his surgical mask up over the lower half of his face, making sure it covered him from the nose down.
The freight elevator they had used was located on the opposite side of the building to Winston’s room, but the advantages of using it outweighed the lengthy walk they now faced. Firstly, its use was restricted to hospital staff so it didn’t get half the foot traffic that the public access elevators did. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, it was only about forty yards away from the exit that led out to where Mullings was waiting with the getaway car.
As they set off, Garston found himself hoping that none of the officers who’d been on duty last week, when he’d accompanied Clarke on his legal visit, would be around today. Even if they were, it shouldn’t matter as long as he kept the mask on. He glanced sideways, checking that Angela had done the same and that her scar was properly concealed.
She had and it was.
Being a thicko, Errol had somehow managed to put his mask on upside down, and they were forced to make a brief stop so that Angela could sort it out for him. Garston used the respite to pour a thick line of coke along the back of his hand. Lowering his mask, he inhaled greedily until there was nothing left.
The insufflation brought with it a wonderful new sense of awareness, and by the time they were approaching Winston’s room, with Errol pushing the annoyingly squeaking wheelchair beside him and Angela trailing just behind, a wonderful feeling of calmness had descended over Garston. He knew it was a cocaine-induced euphoria, but he really didn’t care. They were going to pull off this incredibly audacious breakout, and they were going to do it without a single fucking hitch.
He stopped outside Winston’s door, smiling at the stern-faced policeman standing nearest to him. The disinterested looking man was leaning against the wall, looking like he might nod off at any second. Thankfully, he wasn’t one of the officers who’d been present last time. Neither was the short woman with the brunette bob who stood a few feet away, looking equally bored.
“Hello,” Garston said with forced cheerfulness. “We need to whisk the patient off for a few last-minute tests before he’s released.”
“No problem,” the male officer replied, stepping aside to let him in.
“Actually, he was rather aggressive towards me the last time I spoke to him,” Garston said, affecting an air of concern, “so I was wondering if you two would come inside with me, just in case he gets any funny ideas.”
“Do you have any reason to think there might be a problem today?” the female cop asked, responding to his question with one of her own.
Garston shrugged with uncertainly. “Well no,” he said hesitantly, “but if the last time was anything to go by…”
While she didn’t actually go as far as calling him a ‘wuss’, the female officer’s scornful expression implied that that was exactly what he was. “Sorry,” she said, looking anything but. “One of us has to remain outside at all times.”
Garston frowned. This engagement wasn’t going the way he’d envisaged it would. “But it would make me feel an awful lot safer if you both came in,” he said, trying to pander to her ego. As he spoke, he noticed Errol’s hand was casually drifting behind his jacket towards the revolver that was tucked into the rear of his waistband.
The brunette seemed impervious to his charms, and all he got for his efforts was a raised eyebrow that told him she wasn’t going to put herself out for him. She was obviously a rug muncher, he thought, trying not to let his frustration show.
“Tell you what,” the male officer said, looking hot and uncomfortable in his blue NATO jumper. “I’ll come inside with you if it makes you feel safer, but Shazza will have to remain out here. And before we go anywhere, we’ll need to radio in and get permission to move him to another part of the building.”
Garston felt himself becoming flustered. “But –”
“It’s part of the security protocol that’s been agreed by the hospital hierarchy,” the officer called Shazza said firmly.
Garston decided that he really didn’t like her.
Snatching a quick glance through the glass pane in Winston’s door, Garson spotted his uncle slouched on the bed, looking like the caged animal he was. Sitting in an armchair to the right of the door, the third and final police officer was browsing through a magazine. Garston immediately recognised him as the man who’d inspected Clarke’s ID and then shown them into the room last Thursday.
Shit!
Garston felt his heart rate spike a little. He took a deep breath and told himself not to panic; everything would absolutely be fine as long as
