Seizure by Nick Oldham

the prison guard, who entered the gym and took care of the mess.
    â€˜Brief’s back to see you.’ The screw did not enter Deakin’s cell, stood a respectful two feet outside on the landing. The authorities had learned it could be a dangerous place.
    Deakin was on his bunk, grinning as he tabbed through the camera holding the digital photos from the recent beating he’d supervised. Jamie Last, brother of Dick Last, was a very nasty mess – at least on the surface. Deakin’s two men, the ones he shared a cell with, had done a good job but not gone too far. They were pros and knew how to deliver any degree of assault. Deakin knew Jamie would soon recover. This was just a warning of what could happen should his brother Dick – and Jack Sumner, his partner in crime – get awkward over financial matters.
    Deakin sighed at the interruption and propped himself up. ‘He’s back again?’
    â€˜Yeah, you know where to go,’ the officer said.
    â€˜At least he can deliver the photos,’ he said and swung himself down from the bunk. He was puzzled as to why Baron should be back so soon. Still, he thought, solicitor’s privilege.
    He exited the cell and made his way along the metallic landing, trotting down a staircase into an association area where a number of inmates were watching a big-screen TV. Deakin gave the TV a cursory glance. He had his own TV and DVD in his cell. He saw they were watching some crass mid-morning bollocks but as he turned away he heard a name he recognized spoken by one of the presenters. His head jerked back to the screen and as if drawn by a magnet, he threaded his way between the seated prisoners and stared open-mouthed at the screen. He was in the way of several people, but not even the man he pushed out of a chair in order to sit in his seat complained. He was riveted by what he was seeing. When the piece came to an end, he turned and demanded, ‘Who’s got the remote?’ Another prisoner held up the black box. ‘Rewind it back to the start of that interview.’
    There was no question as to why. The man just did it, using the digital rewind facility that came with the satellite package.
    Deakin watched it again, all the way through. Then he rose in a sort of trance and made his way through the gaol to the screws’ office on the ground floor landing. After a cursory search during which the digital camera wasn’t even challenged, he was shown through to the interview room where Barry Baron waited impatiently.
    â€˜Couldn’t they find you or something?’ Baron said sarcastically, making a show of checking his watch, then regretting it when he saw the expression on his client’s face.
    â€˜Yeah, I went out for a fucking stroll,’ he snarled. ‘What are you doing back so soon?’
    â€˜I said I knew there was something,’ Baron explained. ‘Which, if it’s combined with something else, could give you that something you want,’ he said mysteriously.
    â€˜And as we’re talking in riddles, there’s something else just come to my attention which could go into the pot. But what say we cut the crap and say what we mean, OK? We both know this room isn’t bugged, not like next door, and we can speak freely.’
    â€˜Trust no one, is what I say,’ Baron said. ‘But, yeah, we should be OK in here.’
    Deakin said, ‘Just get on with it and stop fartin’ around . . .’
    Baron smiled grimly. ‘Johnny Cain’s due to appear shortly at Preston Crown Court—’
    â€˜I know – so?’
    â€˜You know lots of things about Johnny Cain, don’t you?’
    â€˜Enough to send the bastard to prison for a thousand years . . .’ Then the realization hit Deakin. ‘Fuck me, that’s a good idea.’
    It had been another extra long day for Henry Christie. On the previous evening he’d been late at work, then very late