Friday, 9 May 2014

Story Episode 3

I had now formulated an escape plan.  After my next meal I would request a bucket for toilet use. Having not drunk the drugged tea or water I would deposit it in the bucket. I would then be ready for the jailer when he came to my cell to retrieve the bucket, plate and cup.  I could knock him out with the table leg and make my escape.

Sometime later some food duly arrived, pushed through the partly open door. Bread, cheese and water again. I immediately called out to the jailer that I needed the bucket; actually that was true - and not just for a pee! He came back almost straight away and I made use of the bucket before eating, afterwards pouring the drugged water into the bucket.

Next I removed the loose table leg and carefully balanced the table against the wall.  I settled down on the bed ready for the jailer's return.

About an hour later I heard the door start to open. The jailer came in and was leaning over to pick up the paper cup and plate when I gave him a whack across the back of his neck with the table leg. He crumpled to the ground. As he did so something dropped from his hand. It looked like some kind of electronic key. I guessed that it might be the lock for my cell door and on checking I found that it was. I quickly went out of the cell, shut the door and checked that it was locked.

Next I went to the interview room, going immediately to the filing cabinet. It was locked but the key was in it so I opened it up and pulled open the top draw. Here I found only four files, a quick glance showing that each related to a different person - one of them me.  Looking at my name and the helpful photograph on the cover my memory started to come back to me.

I am Graham Jones - of course.  No time for a detailed look now - if I can get out of here there will be plenty of time for that later.

Rather than immediately trying to get out through what I was sure would be the exit I went down the corridor to see what was in the last room. The door was unlocked and, as I had expected, it was a room fitted out for the jailer.  There was a small bed, table and chair, fridge, kettle and hob. A cupboard with a few tins of beans and a packet of chocolate digestive biscuits in it. On the back of the door was a yellow coat of the kind worn by workmen. I took it off the hook and felt in the pockets.  A packet of paper tissues and, wow, a mobile phone! That will come in useful.

In the fridge was a small mineral water, two cans of lager and some bread, cheese, and some eggs - presumably my rations. I noticed a crumpled up supermarket bag in a waste paper basket which I removed and put into it the water, lager, bread and cheese and the digestive biscuits.

I was just about to leave when I noticed on the table a key just like the one to open my cell door. I wondered if by any chance another prisoner was being held in the cell next to mine.

Taking the key with me I tried it in the door. I saw a man sleeping on the bed, presumably drugged.  I took out the mineral water and splashed it over his face.  Slowly he started to come round. "What?  Who are you?" he said.  "Don't worry" I replied "I am a fellow prisoner and we are about to escape."

I took him by the arm and helped him down the corridor towards the exit. I put the yellow coat on him and pushed open the door. We were outside.

I found that we were in a woodland area with a dirt track running downhill away from the single storey building where we had been imprisoned. My new friend was still very groggy so our progress down the track was rather slow.  I suddenly realised that I was still holding the door keys. For some reason I thought let's get rid of these and I tossed them away in amongst the trees.

Five minutes further down the track surface became concrete and there was a car standing there - locked unfortunately. Presumably the jailer had the keys in his pocket.  Too late and dangerous to go back now, the jailer may have recovered - and anyway I had thrown away the cell door keys!

Soon the track came to a road junction. Should I turn left or right? On political grounds I decided to go left.  It was still slow progress but my companion was gradually becoming more awake and mobile. About half a mile further on we came to a crossroads and what I saw there really cheered me up.  One road led to Dorchester.  Some years ago I had worked in Dorchester for an IT company. It was there that I had met my wife, Penny. We still come back to this part of the world on a regular basis, staying at our favourite pub in a village not too far away.

Now was the time to phone Penny. Sitting down on the grass verge I punched in our home number.  When she answered I could sense a mixture of anxiety and relief. "Gray" she sobbed "Where are you? Where have you been? It's been two days and I have been worried sick. Nobody had any idea where you were." I told her that I had little time to explain now, but that I had been held prisoner in Dorset.  I asked her to pack the car with clean clothes, explaining that I also wanted some for a fellow prisoner who was with me - who fortunately looked about the same size and build as me. She should also bring the laptop printer and lots of paper." Meet me at our pub" I said. "Even if this phone is monitored they won't know where it is."
It would be good that only the two of us knew our rendezvous destination.  Things were looking up. "Oh, and bring plenty of cash. We don't want them tracing us through our credit cards".

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