Story Episode 7

We had decided that we would travel to Crawley to see if we could meet up with one of G4S’s senior executives at their HQ, to tell them face to face about the activities of some of their rogue employees. Although G4S is not one of our favourite companies, the people in charge there were most likely to identify the men who had imprisoned us and deal appropriately with them. Also, because of the company’s South African connections, it offered the best hope for us of locating and freeing Ken and Tom.

We decided to leave the car at the pub, walk into Dorchester and then catch the train into London and then onto Crawley. Travelling by car would take a long time unless we went via the main roads and we were worried that the rogue G4S people might spot us on CCTV cameras and somehow intercept us.  Besides, we thought, the walk into Dorchester would do us good. 

We chose to travel from the Dorchester South station which would take us into Waterloo with a direct connection to Crawley.  Looking at the train times we saw that we would arrive at Crawley station at about 2.30 in the afternoon, hopefully getting to G4S HQ by 3 pm.  This was a bit later than we had originally envisaged. Maybe we should have started out a bit earlier, but hopefully there would still be a senior member of staff around to talk to us at this time.

Once on the train we settled into our seats and used Penny’s mobile phone to contact both my Head of Department at the University of the South of England and Dave’s departmental head at Barclays. Ted, my HoD, said that he hadn’t even noticed my absence until Penny had contacted him. I hadn’t missed any classes or meetings. Academics are (still just about) in the fortunate position of being able to work from home provided they had no onsite commitments. As I was free on Thursday afternoons and all day on Fridays nobody had regarded my absence as unusual.  By contrast Dave’s departmental head had been very concerned about Dave not being at work.  Dave had not phoned in sick and the thought that he might have followed Ken out of the door with money taken from Barclay’s accounts was starting to form in his boss’s mind.  He was much relieved to get Dave’s account of what had happened but also of course very concerned for Ken’s welfare.

We had with us all the envelopes with the files and reports to be sent off to the newspapers and other key addresses. We could post them in London as we were travelling there anyway and that would speed up their delivery. 

We had brought with us the morning papers. Given what had happened to us over the last few days we hadn’t been able to keep up with world events. As we settled down to read them with a cup of coffee we were somewhat taken aback to find that G4S was in the news again. Certain pressure groups were pushing again for action to be taken against them and Serco for misappropriation of funds on various government contracts. We hoped that this wouldn’t mean that G4S senior executives would be preoccupied in dealing with the media and so not have time to see us.

Unfortunately the train into Waterloo was delayed outside the station and we had to run in order to catch our connecting train to Crawley, so we didn’t have time to post the envelopes.  But as we hoped we did get to Crawley by 2.30 and we took a taxi straight to G4S HQ. Would there be someone available to talk to us?

Story Episode 6

We had now produced multiple copies of the files put together by the rogue G4S employees and written a full report of our findings.  These were ready to send off to the newspapers and everywhere else we could think of to make sure that, whatever happened to us, the story would get out.

Now we had to get hold of some big envelopes to put these things in, and some stamps to put on them ready for posting. Where should we go to do this? The problem with going to a small town was that there might not be a shop that sold big envelopes. In the end we decided that we must go to Dorchester. There was a WHSmith there that would have the envelopes and a post office that could sell us the stamps.

To speed things up I could fill one envelope to be weighed in the post office. We could then get the right value stamps for the remaining envelopes and then post them all later.

We parked in the car park near Waitrose and Penny and I headed off to Smiths. Dave stayed in the car. Luckily for us Smiths had twenty large envelopes in stock. We bought them all. I filled one envelope and we went on to the post office. Annoyingly there was a long queue and we were kept waiting for some time. Eventually we got our representative envelope weighed and purchased the stamps we needed.  As we were leaving we saw Dave running towards us. "Hurry up" he said. "I have just seen our jailer and another guy looking round the car park".  "If we don't make a quick break for it they will be onto us".

The three of us ran for the car as fast as we could and immediately took off with Penny driving.

"Bother" said Penny. "I think they have seen us". Sure enough as we exited the car park we saw the jailer's car backing out of its parking space ready to give chase. "I will try to give them the slip by going down cut throughs and back roads" she added.

And so it was that, although initially the other car managed to keep track of us, eventually Penny lost them and we were able to get back to the pub without being caught.

The next thing to do was to fill all the envelopes ready for posting, so we went back to our rooms and did just that.

"Now let's just have a nice pub lunch to help us relax and build up our strength" suggested Penny. There is nothing like a nice bit of steak and kidney pudding, washed down with a real ale, so I readily agreed.

Over lunch we discussed what we should do next. One idea that I had was to go to G4S's headquarters in Crawley and try to see the CEO or some other senior member of staff and tell them what had been going on. Although I don't particularly like the company, the people in charge there would be best placed to identify their rogue employees. I also remembered that G4S has a South African subsidiary so maybe they could help track down Tom and Ken too.

However it was probably too late to try to do this today. It would be very late in the afternoon before we could get to Crawley by which time almost certainly there would be nobody available to see us. Agreeing this Dave and I had another beer and Penny had a second glass of red wine.

The pub has a good stock of novels that guests can borrow and I managed to find an old Georges Simenon Maigret book that was short enough for me to read in an afternoon. Dave said he would just watch TV in his room. Penny contented herself with a pile of women's magazines.

We agreed that next day we would go to Crawley. Only later did I wonder why Dave and I had not telephoned our bosses to explain what had happened to us. It probably didn't matter in the end as they would find out soon enough

Story Episode 5

Penny didn't arrive at the pub until quite late. Although it was past official closing time Stan gave her a big G and T and made her a nice sandwich.  Penny and I hugged each other, relieved to be back together again. We then went straight off to bed to try to get some sleep before what was going to be a busy next day.

What Dave and I had seen in the files earlier in the evening had been deeply disturbing. At the top of each file was the form that I had seen my interviewer using - the one where he seemed just to have put a tick in a box. In fact there were three boxes on the form, each saying "Confirm memory loss".  It seemed that each prisoner was questioned over three consecutive days to check for continued memory loss before being moved on.

Tom's file had ticks against all three entries. The next box said "Rendition to SA" and was also ticked. Underneath was written "Coronation Park, Joburg".   This rang a bell in the back of my mind. Then I remembered seeing a programme on BBC3 TV in which the black British DJ Reggie Yates had visited a squatter camp outside Johannesburg where poor white unemployed South Africans with no hope of jobs were living in squalor. The camp was known as Coronation Park.

Was the plan to dump Tom there? With his memory loss and the general confusion and helplessness of the residents he would effectively disappear.

I turned to Ken's file. This also showed the three ticks and a rendition comment with the words "Bethlehem, Pretoria". Presumably another squatter camp and some way from where Tom was. Both would now be in these camps and it may be hard to find them, but at least we had an idea.

Dave's file had three ticks but no comments yet about rendition or a destination.  Presumably he was still one day away from being moved on so it was lucky for him that we had escaped in time.

Looking at some of the other material in the files confirmed my guess that the rogue G4S guys had tumbled to our investigations into them and had then taken the action they thought was necessary. The files showed our places of work with various other comments about what we seemed to know.

 Next day Dave, Penny and I would have to get to work, photocopying the files and writing up a report on what we had discovered. Then we could produce multiple copies to send to our employers, the newspapers, G4S itself, maybe the Prime Minister. - all the outlets we could think of to make sure that the story got out whatever happened to us.

So that is what we spent all morning the next day working on. We would have to get some big envelopes and some stamps to post them off later. Should we go into Dorchester and risk being been or try to find a small village post office.  Stan said that, unfortunately, all the local village post offices had been closed down. To be sure of getting our news out we would have to risk a trip to Dorchester, or one of the other local towns.

Story Episode 4

I had managed to escape my confinement, along with a fellow prisoner.  We found that we were in Dorset, quite close to Dorchester. This was welcome news as I know the area well. I lived and worked down here for a while and my wife and I also still come down here quite often for short breaks.

My companion and I had stopped by the roadside at the crossroads and I had used the guard's mobile phone to contact my wife Penny. She will drive down and meet us at our favourite pub where we can stay, hopefully out of harm's way, for a day or two while we look into what has been going on.
As well as the food and drink that I took from the guard's room I have the files that I removed from the filing cabinet in the interview room. It was time to take a quick look. One will presumably be for my new companion so I can find out who he is and he can be reminded too as he is still currently suffering from memory loss.
Picking out the file with his photo on it I see that his name is David Graham. So I say to him "Hi David".  After a brief look of incomprehension he replies "Oh God, yes. But you can call me Dave." I introduce myself as Gray (short for Graham) and run through the plan I have agreed with my wife.  It will take her a while to get down to Dorset but I think we should get on our way in case our escape has been discovered and people are coming after us.
However I just want a quick look at the other two files to see who else has been kept at the prison hideaway. What I see in the next file makes me shudder. It is for Tom Smith who is one of my Master's degree students at the University of the South of England where I work in the Computing Studies department.  I have been supervising Tom's dissertation, although I haven't seen him since before Easter.  This hadn't worried me until now because Tom is a highly self-motivated student who doesn't need constant advice and guidance on his work.
But now I think I am beginning to understand what might be going on. Tom was working on a topic about stolen online payments when he thought that he had tracked down a rogue group from the security group G4S who were cheating their own company.  Now I don't particularly like G4S. They failed to provide the staff they had promised for the 2012 London Olympics, in 2013 they charged the government for tagging people who were not actually being monitored, including tags for people in prison or out of the country, and a small number who had died, and had done so since 2005. Worse than that, in 2010 G4S guards were responsible for the death of an Angolan deportee as he was over-zealously held down on the British Airways plane that was to take him out of the country. But it was interesting to discover that some of their employees might be ripping them off too. 
Because of my supervisory role I had started to look into the issue too and presumably the rogue G4S guys had realised that both Smith and Jones were on their case and had taken action against us.
The fourth file was for someone called Ken Miller. When I showed it to Dave he went white and told me that it was his line manager in the special investigations section of Barclay's Bank where they both worked. Ken had gone missing a few weeks ago and the bank thought that he had absconded with a large chunk of their funds. But before he had disappeared Ken had told Dave about the investigation he was carrying out. Probably the bank now thought that Dave had also been cheating on them. The rogue G4S guys could make the four of us look like the villains of the piece.

I said to Dave that we should be moving on. We could look at the files more closely once we got to the pub. So on we went, arriving at the pub rather tired but more confident that we could do something about our fate. We had rediscovered who we were and what we did, and we had a pretty good idea why what had happened to us had come about.

Stan, the landlord at the pub, knows me well and greeted us warmly. I told him that Penny was coming down and that we needed two rooms for at least one night. We had some food and drink and then went to Dave's room to take a closer look at the files. What we saw there was pretty scary and made us very concerned for the welfare of Ken and Tom.

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".

Story Episode 2

When I woke up I decided to scrutinise my clothing a little more. After taking off my shoes I removed my t-shirt and sweat pants to look at them more closely. They appeared to be brand new and not garments that had been worn by someone else and then washed. Turning them inside out I saw that the tabs which would have indicated who made them and where they had been bought from had been cut away. I noticed that my underpants were also black and again there was no indication of manufacturer or retailer. I put all my clothes back on again.

A little while later breakfast was delivered. To my surprise I was given a lukewarm paper cup of tea and an already shelled hard-boiled egg on a piece of toast. No knife and fork, not even plastic ones.

I started to formulate a plan. If I could get the toilet bucket I could put the tea, which I was sure would have been drugged, into the bucket with my pee. I could then be ready for my jailer when he came to remove my cup and plate. But before I could do this the door opened and the jailer told me to follow him. I was taken into the corridor and we turned left into a room further down in that direction. I noted that my room was at the end of the corridor – there were no further rooms to the right.  There were no rooms on the other side of the corridor, just a blank wall.  There were just four rooms to be seen, mine, another that we passed by next to it, the room I was taken to and one more room beyond that. Then, at the end of the corridor, a heavy looking door that looked like the exit.

Entering the room I saw a man all dressed in black sitting behind a desk. There was a chair facing the desk which he directed me to sit on. I noticed a filing cabinet in the corner. There was nothing else in the room, no paintings or decorations of any sort, just plain white walls. The jailer, who was also wearing only black, stood behind me.

“Name?” the man behind the desk barked.

“I don’t remember” I said.

The man appeared to tick a box on a form on the desk in front of him. “Take him back” he said to my jailer, whereupon I was escorted back to my cell with the door slammed firmly behind me.

After a little while I looked at the coffee table. If I could do it quietly I might be able to lever off one of the legs which I could use as an offensive weapon if I could get the jailer into my room when I was not drugged. I slowly got to work and through gentle rocking back and forth succeeded in my task. Then I carefully balanced the table on this and the three other legs up against the wall ready for when I needed it. After that I settled down on my bed trying to work out the best time to make my attempted escape.

Story Part 1 Awakening

I woke up suddenly.Was it the sound of a door slamming nearby perhaps?  I looked around me and found that I was in a cell about three metres wide and five metres long. The ceiling was quite high up with some light coming through a grill.  Where was I?  More worryingly who was I? I couldn't remember a thing about how I got here or who I was.

I looked at myself.  I was wearing a black t-shirt, elasticated sweat pants, white socks and slip on canvas shoes.  Would these have been clothes that I would normally have worn or had I been dressed in them by whoever had imprisoned me here?

I looked around the cell.  There was some bedding on the floor and a small coffee table.  Nothing else. I sat down on the coffee table.  What was going on? How had I got here and how could I not remember anything, not even my name?

Dejected, I  sat in silence trying to force some thoughts from my head but nothing much would come.  I wondered if my memory loss was permanent, caused by some horrendous neurological operation, or just temporary as the result of a drug of some kind. The latter I hoped.

After some hours there was a knock at the door which then opened only slightly and  I  saw that a paper plate with a slice of white bread and a piece of cheese and a paper cup with water had been pushed into the cell.  I walked over and got them suddenly feeling hungry and thirsty, wolfing them down. I felt tired, lay down on the bed and went to sleep.

When I awoke it was light and I saw that someone must have come into the cell while I  was asleep as the empty paper cup and plate had gone. I wondered if I had been drugged by something in the water.

I went back over things again.  I had a slight moment of hope as it came to me that the cheese was cheddar cheese. Not very nice cheddar cheese but I was cheered that I could recognise the type of cheese I had been given.

Then I realised that I needed to go to the toilet.  I banged on the door calling out that I needed the toilet.  After a couple of minutes the door opened slightly and a plastic bucket was thrust through the gap. I sat down on it and relieved myself.

Then I lay down on the bad and tried to think but to no effect.

Many hours later more water, bread and cheese was pushed through the door for me.  It looked like I was going to be on a basic and unvaried diet.  I ate and drank and then quickly went back to sleep. My last thought was, yes, they have put sleeping drugs in the water.