‘See what you could have had,’ he called over, indicating his own body with a sweep of his hand. ‘You’re going to be thinking of me next time you’re with Shrek, aren’t you?’
Unable to help herself, Chandler cackled. She placed both hands on her hips. ‘You get a load of this, old man: your one and only chance to ogle at this fine specimen of womanhood. I bet it’s been a long time since you’ve laid eyes on anything this firm.’
He had to laugh. ‘I’ll tell Emily you said that.’
A poked tongue was her only retort this time.
A red gate barred the way beyond the reception security area, and they waited at least five minutes while additional checks were carried out. Beyond the gate they had to pass through a further four doors, no more than two of which were ever open at the same time. On the first of two floors, the second room on the eastern spur was a designated legal team area. No cameras or listening devices were allowed within its cramped rectangular space, though the panic strip was prominent around the width of all four walls.
A guard accompanied them through each separate section of the prison; at no point did they lay eyes on any of the prisoners. As soon as they entered the room in which they were due to meet with Lewis Drake, the guard spoke into his two-way radio and gave the okay.
‘I guess you’ve seen it all in your time, eh?’ Bliss said to the guard, a stout, muscular man who looked to be in his late forties. ‘The real dregs of humanity are kept in here.’
‘We’ve also had the likes of Assange and Archer,’ the guard said, offering a shrug that suggested it was all in a day’s work. ‘Not here in the HSU, of course. Behind these walls we’ve had men like Ian Huntley, Charles Bronson, even Ronnie Biggs. Huntley walked around with a target on his back, what with him being a nonce… IRA men were all the rage for a while; now it’s Islamists. I’m on the last year of my spell in this unit, and I couldn’t honestly tell you who was the worst. Your man Drake, though – he’s a real piece of work. Slippery bastard, so watch yourselves. One minute he’s charming you, the next he’s frothing at the mouth, wanting to tear your arms off.’
Bliss glanced at the table bolted to the floor and affixed against one wall. The steel loops used to restrain the prisoners looked impervious to even the most violent of rages. ‘Thanks for the tip,’ he said. ‘But we know Drake well enough.’
‘Oh, so you’ve bumped up against him before?’
‘Yeah. We arrested him. We are why he’s in here.’
The guard’s response was immediate. ‘I’m glad you mentioned that. It might well up his aggressiveness. He was in one of our other Cat A blocks originally, but his violent outbursts became impossible to manage. He’s a genuine escape risk as well, so the HSU is the best place for him. Odd thing is, since day one he’s refused all requests for visitors.’
‘We’re the first?’ Chandler said, her surprise evident.
‘Other than his legal team. Don’t know how you managed it, either, at such short notice.’
‘Friends in low places,’ Bliss told him.
The guard chuckled. ‘Yeah. I guessed it was something like that. Well, you’re welcome to him. Just one thing, and I don’t mean to come across as sexist or anything, but you need to be prepared for him, DS Chandler. The man has been banged up in one prison or another for more than two years, and despite his appeal he knows he’s never walking out of here. That’s something to keep in mind at all times. The only women he’s laid eyes on since he’s been away have been guards. But they don’t count for much, because I don’t think he even regards them as human, let alone women. It’s good that you’ve chosen to wear trousers, and I’d advise you to keep your jacket fastened. If you have to look directly at him, make sure you break eye contact often. Anything else and he’ll see it as interest on your part. He won’t be able to reach you, but he has a foul mouth and he’ll be looking to get a rise out of you.’
Chandler arched her eyebrows. ‘Thank you. I dare say I’ve heard worse. The day one of our more charming clients back home in Peterborough told me how much he’d like to cut my throat, wash my face in acid, set light to me, and then fuck my still-smouldering corpse, was a particular highlight.’
‘Bloody hell,’ the guard said, his voice no more than a stunned whisper.
‘That was one of her better first dates,’ Bliss said.
The three laughed; it was preferable to showing their anxiety. Chains or not, the thought of being trapped inside a room with somebody as psychotic as Lewis Drake was enough to set anyone’s pulse racing.
The door opened, squealing theatrically on its hinges. A moment later, wearing a yellow T-shirt and standard maroon jogging bottoms, in stepped the man himself – all five-eight and barely twelve stone of him. Even with a freshly shaved head and contact lenses having replaced his glasses, Drake was not an imposing figure.
His reputation for explosions of vicious and untamed violence, however, preceded him. Even without having interviewed him previously, Bliss would recognise this man for what he was: monstrous, and entirely lacking in either morals or conscience.
Thirty-One
The look of twisted amusement on Drake’s face was worthy of a photograph, to be used in a training exercise at a later date. Even after the prisoner managed to get
