Chasing Freedom Home (Malinding) Page 2

  ‘Nothing wrong with the young lady’s papers, Mr Bibby, but there’s a block on the young chap’s passport. Not valid, according to my information. If you’ll just step out, young man, you can wait in the office while we sort it all out. Mr Bibby and the young lady can go on up to the house, no problem. I’ll give you a call, Mr Bibby, when it’s all sorted. Won’t be long, I’m sure, sir.’ He opened the car door and beckoned to Ed to step out. ‘Come along now, we don’t want a big fuss and make a mountain out of a mole hill, do we?’ Ed sat still.

  ‘If there is a fault I’m sure it can be sorted out by ‘phone with the passport office tomorrow. I know it’s a valid document – I’ve lived and studied and worked here for ten years. My father was English and I have dual nationality.’ Frank dragged him out of the car and frog marched him into the guardroom.

  ‘Just wait in the waiting room, Mr Edwards’ and pushed Ed into a small cell and locked the door on him. Ed kicked the door without making an impression on the solid steel. He collapsed on the narrow bed and stared at the stained steel toilet on the opposite wall. It stank.

  What was happening to him? Forty-eight hours ago he’d had an idyllic life. Beautiful wife-to-be, imminent arrival of first child, nice house, good job, quirky little car. The only thing he’d expected to change was the car. A child might deserve a rather more solid motor. Nightmare. Absolute nightmare. He slumped back on the hard mattress and gazed up at the ceiling. Blood. There was blood on the ceiling. There was more, dribbled down the wall. He searched his pockets for his ‘phone. It wasn’t there. He remembered the scuffle with Frank. He hadn’t felt his pocket being picked, but then you wouldn’t would you, if the thief was skilled. His wallet was missing too. His slightly out of date passport had been confiscated by the guard; he had no money and no proof of identity. And the world had just gone completely mad.

  3

  Geoff Bibby drove the car into the garage. The door rattled down behind them. He looked across at his daughter. She sat, bolt upright, staring ahead, not registering that she was home. He unfastened her seat belt.

  ‘Come inside, love, and say hello to your mum. I’ll bring your cases in later.’ He led her to the door which opened into the kitchen.

  ‘Here she is, Karen. Jane’s come home. Say hello to your mum, love.’ Jane settled heavily onto a kitchen stool.

  ‘I want Ed. Where is he? When’s he coming home?’ Her parents looked anxiously at one another.

  ‘I expect he’s just attending to a bit of paper work, love. He’ll be here soon, that’s for certain.’

  ‘Why should he need a passport to travel about his own country? Why did I have to show that man mine?’

  ‘Just to be on the safe side, love. There’s a lot of bad characters about these days. You must know that. Frank’s paid by all the folk on the estate to look after us. He’s very good, very conscientious. As soon as Ed sorts his passport out he’ll be here in no time. Let’s get you settled in. Your mum’s got tea laid on in the living room. Go and get comfy. I’ll bring your cases in and take them up to your room.’ He went out into the garage again.

  ‘Hi, Frank. Geoff Bibby. Everything OK?’

  ‘Hi, boss. He’s settled down for the night, I guess. Not a happy bunny. Fortunately his passport’s ten days out of date so we’ve got him on that. I’ve been onto the Ministry and they’ve already sorted his job out. He’s not actually married Jane, has he? No? Good. Not a leg to stand on. They’ll collect him about 4 a.m. and he’ll be across the county border before he knows what’s happening. You’ve seen the last of that chancer, don’t fret. Give my regards to Karen. Bye!’

  Geoff smiled as he put the ‘phone back in his pocket. One problem solved and safely out of the way. He could get the deserted house repaired and back on the market. Jane wouldn’t want to go back there, and there was plenty of room in his house for her. He could make sure the half-blood baby would be adopted; a child fetched a good price nowadays, providing it had an English birth certificate.

  ‘Jane, love. Good news. There is a problem with Ed’s passport; it's a few days out of date. Frank managed to get him transport, even at this late hour, and he’s on his way to Passport Control House, in London, to get it sorted out. They’ll just ring his employer for a reference, it’ll do over the ‘phone, issue him with a new passport and he’ll be on his way back here late tomorrow afternoon. He’ll have managed to charge his battery up by then and you can expect his call anytime now. See, no problem. Are those biscuits for me?’ He settled into a comfortable char and smiled at his daughter. ‘I know all this is a worry, love. But security matters these days. This new government’s worked miracles in just a few months. Immigration is under control – no visa, no job and you’re back to where ever you came from without your feet having touched English soil. Work-shy scroungers don’t get any cash; we’re not paying rent for low-life types like that. If they can persuade some do-gooders to subsidize them, well we can’t make that illegal immediately but they’ll have to depend on food-banks and most of them have been closed down because of bad behaviour by their so-called clients. Hard working families, that's what it's all about nowadays. Fair shares for all, so long as the folk who get them have worked for them. Benefits everybody. Oh, and they did something about wasting millions of pounds on elections nobody ever turns out to vote at. They passed a bill delaying the next election for ten years, with an option for another five unless a referendum is called and one hundred per cent of the electorate vote for an election. We’ve got fifteen years of stable government. Brilliant.’ He had the notion that his daughter wasn’t listening to him, but she needed to know the facts.

  ‘I want to go to him.’

  ‘Of course you do, love. But he’s on his way to London. They’ll find a safe house for him to stay in – freshen up, have a bit of a kip, a bite to eat. I don’t know where he’ll be; that’s the point of a safe house. Rest easy, he’ll be back here before you know it. Why not try ringing him? Borrow my ‘phone.’ Jane seized the ‘phone and dialled Ed’s number. No reply. She tried, again and again, but without result.’

  ‘Good sign, love – he’s got it on charge like I said. He’ll ring you as soon as possible. Why not get a bit of shuteye? You’re near your time; you’ve got to look after yourself, haven’t you? Come on Jane, upstairs. Your mum’s got your old room ready, pop into bed. When there’s any news you’ll be the first to know. I think we might get you to the clinic for a check-up tomorrow. You’re under a lot of stress and that’s not good for the baby. Your mum and me, we’ve got to look out for our first grandchild. Makes sense love. Trust your old dad!’

  Jane was halfway up the stairs when her waters broke. She made it to the bathroom at the top of the stairs and collapsed onto the toilet.

  ‘I can’t do this now. Ed should be here. He said he’d be here. I want him.’ Karen took charge.

  ‘Could be hours before anything happens. You’re not due yet? Could be the shock of things. He should have checked that you were surrounded by serenity. All these goings on can’t have helped. We’ll get you to the clinic and your dad will send Ed a text to tell him what’s going on. First things first. Bit of a clean up, love, then carefully back downstairs and into the car. It’s only five minutes to the clinic.’

  ‘I want Ed.’

  ‘Of course you do. It’s all his fault. He should have checked his papers were up to date. Come on, carefully, carefully. There’s your dad now; put this coat round your shoulders. Good girl. Off we go. Steadily, Geoff. More haste, less speed.’

  4

  The blindfold was removed and Ed blinked in the light. His handcuffs were removed and he was pushed onto a chair which faced across a wide desk. Opposite him sat an elderly man in a plain dark blue uniform. There were no identity badges to be seen. The man was slowly turning pages in a thick file. He spoke without looking at Ed.

  ‘Edward-Lamin Edwards. Funny sort of name that. Place of birth, Malinding village. Never heard of it. Mother, Sirra Ceesay. Fathe
r, oh dear, father, unknown.’ Ed reacted.

  ‘My father was Edward Edwards. He was English, a retired teacher. Check your records properly.’ A guard pushed him back into his seat, and kept a painful grip on his shoulder.

  ‘Father unknown. Identity document; an out of date forged passport. Clever forgery, I’ll give you that. But it’s a forgery. Employment? None. Sacked for using forged documents. But stupid, wasn’t it, trying to pretend you were a scholar at Oxford. First class degree? You just might have got away with pretending a Third at some ex-technical school in Cumbria that nobody had ever heard off. Or maybe, a postal degree from some pretend university correspondence course in Texas? We saw a couple of almost convincing ones last month. But a First from Oxford? Wasn’t Cambridge good enough for you? So, young man, brave try. But what’s this? You got some respectable girl pregnant? Drunk was she – or drugged? That how you got to fuck a nice white girl? That’s rape, lad. Rape; statutory life sentence. These days life means life. Mind you, that’s going to change very soon. Changing it to a death sentence next month. No problem; you don’t need to go to trial for forgery and illegal entry; I can deal with that sort of thing. Then, in a few weeks’ time we can re-discover the rape and bring you to court for that. That’s what we’ll do. Anything to say?’ Ed started to protest but an arm round his throat reduced him to a choking stutter.

  ‘No? Then, Edward whatever your real name is, I sentence you to five years hard labour. Oh, nearly forgot the paperwork.’ He tore a sheet of paper from a pad, stamped it twice with a rubber stamp, scrawled a signature across the page and handed the paper to one of the guards.

  ‘We’ll do three more then break for lunch. OK, boys?’

  They handcuffed him again, and shackled his legs. He was led, stumbling, out to a black van and manhandled into the back. He was fastened to a chain running the length of the vehicle. There were four other prisoners already inside. All were young, all were black and all showed signs of having suffered recent physical assault. No one spoke. The driver was chatting to one of the guards who leaned against the cab of the van.

  ‘Doing anything tonight?’

  ‘Thought we’d try that new Sushi bar. Our Danny went with his new girlfriend and said it was very nice. They’re going again at the week end.’

  ‘What’s Danny doing now?’

  ‘Got himself a new job with security. He’s one of the Watchers.’

  ‘Jammy bugger! Watching T.V. all day, sat on his backside. Still, he’s a clever lad.’

  It was hot inside the van, and there was a stink of urine. Ed struggled to keep from soiling himself. At intervals three other men were loaded into the van and eventually it drove off.

  A short drive. The sound of heavy gates opening, then closing again behind them. The sounds were repeated; then the van stopped and the engine was switched off. Another long wait. Finally, the back doors were opened and the human cargo was dragged out, still chained together. Armed guards watched as they staggered out of the van, trying to stand up.

  ‘Almost look human, don’t they? Think they can talk?’

  ‘No chance. Monkeys just jabber jabber. There was that one last week that tried to speak, remember? Couldn’t understand a word it said. Not natural for these to talk. Get them moving.’ They were hurried into a large, well furnished, room and lined up in front of a desk. A man behind the desk started to speak without looking at them.

  ‘Welcome to Harden Detention Centre. You will be held here until you are either deported or sent for trial. If you are offered deportation take it. The alternative of standing trial is not advised, keeping in mind the imminent return of the death penalty for serious crimes such as those you will be convicted of. You have a right to make an observed ‘phone call and to request the assistance of a lawyer. Those are your rights. Sadly, the one ‘phone which was for use by detainees has been out of service for several months – ever since this facility opened in fact. Also, and even more regrettable, no lawyers have as yet given their services to this establishment. It seems that all those offered this less than lucrative employment have decided to keep their reputations intact. Odd, you may think, but that’s the way it is. Ah, and you’ve missed today’s meal by about ten minutes. You’ll find buckets of water in your cell. Mind you don’t drink from the piss-pots by mistake. Hard to tell the difference at times. Take them away.’ They were half led, half dragged along a corridor and down a flight of steep stone steps to a room. There were two narrow windows high on one wall. A musty smell greeted them. Although it was broad daylight the room was gloomy and cold. There was no furniture, other than two large metal buckets, one at either end of the room. One bucket had an enamel mug fastened to it by a short piece of cord. The prisoners were left, still chained together, and the door closed quietly behind them. Ed studied the length of chain which linked them. They had assumed that their individual chains were fastened to this, but that was not the case. It had simply been passed through each man’s arms and legs so that when they were dragged along they were thrown off balance and the difficulty of keeping on their feet so as not to be trampled distracted them from attempting escape. He pointed out to his new acquaintances this fact and they quickly pulled free from that element of their captivity.

  ‘Great, we’ve got a weapon to use against them now’ said one of the captives.

  ‘Great; we’re still chained hand and foot and did you notice they’ve got guns?’ said another. They could at least find a small space of their own. Several, including Ed, made use of the toilet bucket. Others took a drink, surprised to find that water in the drinking bucket was clean and fresh. Eventually all eight men settled down, backs against the wall. Some chatted in a desultory fashion, others simply stared into space. The room grew darker and colder. Night fell quietly on them.

  5

  ‘Give me my baby; I want him, please let me have him. He’s mine. Mine and Ed’s. Please let me hold him. My beautiful baby.’ Jane sobbed into her pillow. The birth had been easy, the child had cried loudly and long. The midwife had whispered something to Jane’s mother then hurried away carrying the child.

  ‘She’s just gone to check him, make sure he’s all right. He’ll be back as soon as the consultant has had a look. Nothing to worry about. Try and rest, pet.’

  ‘There’s no need to check him, he’s perfect. Please, Mum, let me have him. I’ve not properly seen him yet. And where’s Ed? Ed should be here to greet his son. He’ll be so proud. Mum, do something. I’ll get out of this bed and find himself if you don’t. Honestly.’ Her mother hurried away and found Geoff in a huddle with the midwife and the consultant.

  ‘I don’t like this, don’t like it at all’ the doctor frowned. ‘There’s nothing the matter with this child. He’s in fine health, great pair of lungs on him. All he needs is a good long suck on his mother’s breast.’ The midwife looked anxiously at the grandparents.

  ‘Doctor’s right, Mrs Bibby. I don’t like this at all. Jane’s mother was quietly furious.

  ‘You think we like it, do you? You want my daughter, my only child, to be reminded every day of the bastard who raped her? You want this, this yelling lump of black filth to be attached to her for the rest of her life? What chance would she stand then of finding the right sort of man? You’ll do what me and my husband tell you to do. Kill the child, sew my daughter back up properly so she can be a virgin again and the next time she comes here will be as the lawfully pregnant wife of a respectable white man. Now, do it or we’ll report you to the Department. Now.’ She turned on her heel and walked back to the delivery room, followed by Geoff.

  ‘I’m buggered if I agree with this’ said the consultant. ‘I am not putting down a perfect baby just because his grandparents think he’s the wrong colour. Look, Annette, get this child out of here. Find him a bottle, get him sucking... Then leave him to me. Go and look after your other mothers. I’ll deal with this when the screaming stops.’ Jane had obviously just learned of the supposed death of her child. Another doctor ha
d been on hand to sedate her, and eventually the screams subsided, then stopped completely. Jane was hurried to a waiting ambulance and driven to another institution a few miles away. Geoff and Karen drove home in silence. A cosmetic surgeon had been summoned to perform an urgent piece of surgery on her vagina and labia – just tidying things up a bit down there, as he described his task while making out a hefty bill as reward for his delicate work.

  ‘You’d never know she’d ever been shagged in her life before.’ He photographed his handiwork and labelled the file ‘secret’ before returning to his comfortable riverside home.

  6

  ‘Breakfast, gentlemen?’ The armed guard ordered them to stand against the wall, hands above their heads, while two other guards shackled the prisoners’ legs to the long chain.

  ‘Good boys. You’re learning. There’ll be more lessons, just pay attention and do as you’re told. Follow Mr Jones out through the door, turn left, carefully up the stairs and stop when you all get to the landing. Can you remember all that? O.K., Mr Jones, lead the way please.’ Slowly the chain gang made its way out of the cell, stumbled up the stone staircase, and came to a ragged halt on the landing, facing another steel door. My Jones threw the door open and the line made to follow him through. Hell broke loose. The armed guard stuck his gun into the back of the first prisoner and fired. The man collapsed. Another shot was fired into his head. More guards, most armed, poured through the doorway. The survivors were forced to their knees, flinching as the blood of the murdered man trickled across the concrete floor towards them.

  ‘Oh dear. A slight accident, Mr Jones? They moved before you instructed them to?’ The official who had greeted them the night before frowned as he looked down on the body.’ Let these gentlemen bury their comrade, and then they can have their breakfasts. The last one in line can scrub the stains off the floor. Soon as you like, boys.’ He wiped a trace of blood off his shoe on the body, and walked away. The body was unshackled and the last man in line was released from the chain. The remaining prisoners were instructed to drag the body of the murdered man out into the prison yard. The last man looked at the pool of blood, then glanced round for something to help him clean the floor.