Capital Offence

Chapter 10

Thursday 30th May

27 days left

At six thirty the following morning two unmarked police cars pulled up outside Barlinnie Prison and dropped off four men in dark suits. They moved rapidly through the empty dismal painted-brick reception area and were made at home in an interview room, where cups of tea or coffee were offered and rejected.

“Are you ready chentlemen?” asked Murdo McDonald, the prison Governor, in a voice which still betrayed a hint of South Uist, in the outer Hebrides - an island renowned for spawning a score of competing doctrines offering every fine distinction of hellfire and damnation.

“I’m going alone,” said Jamieson Maclean, quietly, but firmly.

Howe spoke up, first addressing the two police officers who were guarding the PM. “You can wait next door.”

The two men protested, uncertain of their ground, but acutely conscious of their responsibility to the Prime Minister. Howe continued. “Confidentiality is paramount. The PM’s in safe hands. This is a high security prison.”

Maclean nodded. The men reluctantly moved back through to reception.

“OK so far,” said Maclean. “I want to see him alone - face to face - and in private...”

“Well...”

“...and that means - not in here.”

Maclean looked up at the surveillance camera in the corner of the room, then across to the large mirror occupying one wall. The Governor and Howe exchanged worried glances.

“You could use my office, but I’m still concerned about your security...”

Jamie couldn’t believe the Governor’s office didn’t have some kind of security surveillance.

“We’ll meet outside,” announced Maclean. “There must be an exercise area.”

“It’s overlooked - from several directions!”

“Well, move the men who’re in those areas. This is a prison isn’t it? You can tell people where to go? Keep them away from any areas which might compromise confidentiality. You can keep an eye on things on the security cameras, but make sure no-one else is allowed to watch.”

Howe and the Governor looked at each other again - each trying to work out what Maclean’s agenda was. The Governor nodded slowly.

“I would need to haff armed men in adjacent areas.”

“That’s a good idea,” agreed Jamieson Maclean calmly. “And unless something untoward happens - which it won’t - there’s no need for them to know why they’re on standby.”

The Governor looked at Howe for agreement.

“Giff me fifteen minutes.”

*      *      *

As Jamieson Maclean walked out through the plate glass door on to a muddy football pitch, his heart was pounding. At the far side, just in front of the posts, stood a slouched figure, hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. It took forever to walk across the intervening grass.

The man they called Pearson looked so familiar - the years hadn’t disguised his physical shape. In fact, thought Jamie, he and his brother were still helluva like each other! They could have swapped clothes now, though Jamie’s might hang a little looser on his brother. As he walked on, his brother returned his gaze.

“Stop,” said Dave, quietly, and Jamie halted with four paces to go. They stood and stared into each other’s heads.

“I was going to put my arms round you,” admitted Jamie - the emotion of the situation having caused him to forget for a moment that they were being observed.