Dark Side of the Street - Jack Higgins [22]
They sat Chavasse in a cubicle and he waited impatiently, the voices on either side a meaningless blur and then the door opposite opened and Jean Frazer came in. She was wearing a white nylon blouse and a neat two piece suit in Donegal tweed with a pleated skirt. Strange, but he had never realised before just how attractive she really was.
Her ready smile faded as she sank down into the chair opposite. "Paul, what have they done to you?
Her voice sounded slightly distorted over the amplifier and he smiled. "Do I look that bad?"
"I wouldn't have believed it possible."
He cracked suddenly, a savage, cutting edge to his voice. "For God's sake, Jean, what do you think it's like in here? I'm not Paul Chavasse playing a part and going home nights. I'm Paul Drummond doing six years for armed robbery. I've been inside four months now. I think like a con, I act like one. Most important of all, I'm treated like one--tell Graham Mallory to stuff that in his blasted pipe."
There was real pain in her eyes and she reached out to touch him, forgetting about the glass. "I feel so damned inadequate."
He grinned. "A good thing there's glass between us. You look good enough to eat, never mind the other thing."
She managed to smile. "Do I?"
"Now don't go making any rash promises. They'd only get you into trouble. After all, I do anticipate getting out of here sometime. How is Mallory, by the way?"
"His usual charming self. He told me to tell you to get a move on. Apparently he could use you elsewhere and thinks this business has gone on long enough."
"The answer I'd like to send him is completely unprintable," Chavasse said. "But never mind. We'd better get down to business. We're only allowed ten minutes."
"How are you and Youngblood getting on?"
"Fine--in fact I managed to stop someone sticking a sharp implement into him this morning."
"I thought they put people in prison to prevent them doing that sort of thing?"
"That's the theory--worked out by people who don't know what they're talking about as usual."
"Have you found anything out about the Baron?"
He shook his head. "I've heard his name mentioned in general gossip amongst the other prisoners, but he's as much a question mark to them as he is to me. I tried to talk about him with Youngblood--told him I'd heard the Baron had got Saxton and Hoffa out. He seemed to think the whole idea was fairy tales for the kiddies."
"So you've really wasted your time?"
"Not on your life. Youngblood's on his way out of here. I've never been so certain of anything in my life. He hasn't said so in so many words, but everything about him confirms it. His general manner, the remarks he makes and so on."
"You've no idea how or when?"
He shook his head. "Not a clue. There is one thing. He seems to be feeling his oats a bit at the moment. I think something's in the air."
She shook her head. "It doesn't make sense, Paul. I've read the file on this place. He couldn't get out-- nobody could."
"He's going to go, there's nothing surer and I'd like to be there when he does."
"You'll stop him, of course."
"Not on your life, angel," Chavasse grinned. "He doesn't know it yet, but I'm going with him."
There was immediate dismay in her eyes, but as she opened her mouth to reply, a prison officer approached. "Time's up, miss."
She got to her feet. "Goodbye, Paul. Look after yourself."
"You, too," he said and turned and followed the Duty Officer out.
Meals at Fridaythorpe were taken in a small canteen on the second floor of each tower block and when Chavasse arrived, lunch had already started.
The officer in charge signed for him and he went down to the counter and filled a tray quickly. Youngblood was sitting at the first table near the wall and he waved, pointing to a vacant place next to him.
"A sister, eh?" he commented as Chavasse