The large room was lit by halogen tubes that hung from the ceiling in perfect symmetry. Ten metal tables were spaced evenly around the room, with an uncomfortable stool bolted to the underneath. Occupying most of them was an assortment of some of the most dangerous and vile criminals in the UK and all of them had their eyes firmly trained at the doorway.
On Sam.
‘You got thirty minutes.’
The guard gave Sam another shove before casually stepping to the side of the room, joining a colleague to cast a disinterested eye over proceedings. Sam scanned the room, meeting the hate filled stare of most of the prisoners, all of whom were hunched over metal trays containing unappetising food. As he walked towards the lone food counter, he noted the table at the far corner of the room.
A large man with a thick white beard sat, his hands clasped on the table and an air of authority about him. To his left sat a small, weasely man, with greasy hair pasted to his head and a thin, whispy beard. To the right was a specimen. Despite being seated, the man towered over the other two, and was twice as broad. The sleeves of his jumpsuit were rolled up, and his brown forearms were covered with ink. All three of them watched him, their eyes following his every step.
With the rest of the table empty, Sam assumed that a seat at that table was by invite only.
Sam approached the counter and lifted one of the metal trays, his stomach rumbling despite the food presented to him. A slab of unidentifiable meat, boiled potatoes, and some discoloured vegetables, accompanied with a plastic spork and a carton of orange juice. Despite the clear lack of care in the nutritional value of the meal, Sam was famished and he walked calmly and confidently to the nearest empty chair, placed the tray down, and sat. The other occupants of the table froze, either in disbelief or fury and Sam shovelled a potato into his mouth before fixing them all with a stare.
A cold, unnerving stare.
Clearly, it took them by surprise and Sam afforded himself a small, inward chuckle as a number of them broke it instantly. He had no intention of causing trouble on his first night, but the prison held no fear to him.
And he was hungry.
As the volume in the room began to grow, the interest in his arrival declined. The meat, which was passable chicken, tasted great and as Sam took his final mouthful, he noticed Sharp enter the room, sending another hush across the room like a shockwave. The deputy warden shot him a scowl and Sam replied with a bored raise of his eyebrow.
But then Sharp nodded to the far side of the room.
Instantly, the large, tattooed man slammed his cutlery down and stood and Sam sighed. As the hushed room watched on in a mixture of shock and bloodthirsty pleasure, Sam tracked the rising sound of the man’s heavy footsteps as they hurtled towards him.
As expected.
Just as the man’s shadow filtered over his plate, Sam could hear the extra emphasis the man placed on his final step, indicating he was shifting his body weight. Sam twisted his body to the left, evading the fist which crashed into his dinner like a sledgehammer. Sliding out from the stool in one, swift motion, Sam turned to face the hulking inmate, whose eyes were wide with fury, as if Sam’s evasion was a personal insult.
Sam held his hands up.
‘Look, let’s not do this tonight.’ He offered, but the man growled through his teeth and swung another fist. Sam ducked, before planting a hard knee into the man’s ribs, driving the wind out of him. As soon as he did, the entire room erupted into a chorus of cheers, as if they were watching their favourite wrestling show. As the man hunched over to gather his breath, Sam wrapped his hand around his bald head and slammed him face first onto the table.
As the man doubled back in a state of shock, Sam turned around in time for another fist to connect with his right cheekbone. Sam shook the blow, and the other man who had framed the older gentleman in the corner swung another. This time, Sam dropped a shoulder, allowed the man’s arm to fall across, before grabbing it with both hands. As he pulled the greasy, runt of a man towards him, Sam lifted his body up, flipping the man over and watching as he collided back first onto the cruel edge of the metal table.
Before Sam could turn his attentions back to his first attacker, a sudden pain erupted from his ankle, shaking his body and dropping him to the floor. As he jolted uncontrollably, he could make out Sharp and his officers surrounding the three of them, to a chorus of jeers from the crowd baying for blood.
While he hadn’t pissed his pants, Sam could confirm that Sharp was right.
The electric shock hurt like hell.
As Sam’s breathing slowly returned to normal, Sharp loomed over him, a cruel smile of crooked teeth across his face.
‘Trouble on your first night, eh?’ He shook his head. ‘What are going to do with you?’
With a snap of his fingers, Sharp stood back, and Sam could feel the hands of the guards wrap around his wrists. As he was dragged across the floor like a mop, his brain began to unscramble and the last thing he saw before being hauled from the room, was an impressed smile on the face of the bearded old man, whose goons he’d just dispatched.
As he was led down the hallway, Sam didn’t know if that was such a good thing.
Chapter Ten
A week had gone by and Singh hadn’t heard a single thing.
No reports on how Sam was surviving in Pentonville, or any updates on how he’d been assimilated into prison life. While Ashton had been forthright with her demands for Singh to distance herself
