But the Ashcroft assignment had changed their lives.
Sworn to secrecy, they’d become guarded around friends and she’d been adamant that it was the stress and pressure of running such a facility that had exacerbated his MS.
But they didn’t need to worry about that anymore.
Harris’s retirement had been confirmed that morning, a day after the entire prison was decommissioned. Anna had wept in his arms when he’d returned, her husband shaking from the bullet with which he’d ended Sharp’s life.
There would be an investigation, one which Harris had demanded himself and as a man of the utmost integrity, Anna was sure he would be cleared of any wrongdoing. But until then, she was just pleased to have her husband back.
She waited until he shuffled beside her and then slid her hand into his, smiling warmly as he gently rubbed his finger against her wedding ring.
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ Anna said, looking out over the water.
‘It’s good to be home.’
Anna tilted her head against his shoulder and then the two of them continued their stroll around the lake.
Eight guards had died during the riot, and a further seven of them had been critically injured. Along with over ten prisoners found dead, including Chapman and his crew, Harris knew that the investigation would be a long and arduous experience.
The government would sweep it under the rug and the rest of the guards who had operated under Sharp’s misguided regime were also facing the full strength of the law. They would be sent down, and along with the other inmates, they would be scattered UK wide across numerous prisons.
No one would ever know the truth.
The thought of that did eat away at him, but Harris knew his priorities needed to be elsewhere. His treatment plan for his multiple sclerosis had been enhanced, with stronger medicine being recommended to keep him mobile.
They couldn’t cure it.
All he wanted was to move on, spend the rest of his years with his wife, and try to live as comfortably as possible.
With the warmth of the sun covering everything with a joyous glow, he held Anna’s hand tightly and they shuffled around the lake, happy to be spending another day together.
* * *
After a few drinks with the commissioner, Sam had thanked him for his hospitality. Stout had been surprisingly understanding of Sam’s mission, acknowledging that at times he even envied the freedom with which Sam operated. But having dedicated his life to the letter of the law to such an extent that he ended up leading it, he would never condone the actions Sam had taken.
There was a justice system for a reason and despite Sam’s selflessness and bravery, there could be no walking away from the path he’d gone down.
Both of them accepted that, but Stout did imply he had a few favours to call in before he stepped down. Due to Sam’s courageous actions that night, Stout would push for him to see out his sentence in a minimum security facility, offering him more freedom and a real chance of rehabilitation.
Perhaps even the chance for parole.
Stout escorted Sam through the New Scotland Yard building to the holding cells and told him that the next day he would be transferred to HMP Huntercombe near Nuffield, on the outskirts of Oxfordshire. A category C prison, which would afford Sam more freedom than Ashcroft ever did, along with a safer environment. Stout promised him he would talk to Judge Barnes personally, to push for a transfer to a category D prison, where Sam would be offered the freedom of the prison, along with the chance to keep his head down and maybe see the other side of a cell again.
Sam shook his hand and with the horror of Mac’s death heavy on his mind, settled down for a rough night’s sleep.
The following morning, Sam was woken by two officers who allowed him the opportunity of a shower before his transfer. They bundled him out through the back of the building, out of the public eye, and signed him over to the transport guards who seemed in awe of their prisoner.
‘This isn’t another switcheroo, is it?’ Sam joked, although his audience were clueless as to his ordeal at Ashcroft.
As part of the Met’s ‘Green Initiative’ the secure van was electric powered, and Sam stepped into the back and settled down for the near fifty-mile journey. Despite the heavy traffic, it only took them an hour to make it through to the M40 at Denham, which they stayed on for a few junctions, passing through Beaconsfield, Handy Cross, and Lane End until they turned off at junction five.
As they entered Nuffield, Sam felt the smoothness of the road change, the narrow country lanes causing a number of stops as the large van pulled into the predetermined gaps to allow cars through.
On the home stretch, one of the guards rattled his knuckles against the metal partition, yelling to Sam that they were twenty minutes out.
Before Sam could respond, he felt the engine of the van die and the vehicle roll to a stop.
It wasn’t unexpected.
Sam had enemies and he’d wondered if an irate officer or an Ashton sympathiser would tip someone off to his route. Luckily, the officers in charge of the journey had allowed him to sit in the back uncuffed, realising that he wasn’t a threat.
Sam could hear them bickering in the front seat, with little confidence that either of them would survive an attack.
As one of them got out of the van, Sam heard the sickening thud of a blow to the head, and then the officer colliding with the side of the van. More shouting, as the attacker demanded the other officer get out of the car and Sam knew it was at gunpoint.
Protecting
