The Devil You Know by Neil Lancaster

Author:Neil Lancaster [Lancaster, Neil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

37

FRANKIE HARDIE WAS in his cell, staring at the TV which was not switched on. His thoughts were rushing like static electricity as he thought of his brother, dead on a slab somewhere. Just over a year ago, Frankie was part of a big family. A respected family with serious influence and plenty of money, and now look. He was the only one of them left, and he was in this putrid fucking cell in the shite-hole that was Shotts jail. His pa died in a shitty old graveyard. Tam Junior was gone, presumed dead having escaped from jail, and his wife and kids had heard nothing from him since then. Now Davie was gone. Shot by a fucking sniper during an escape attempt, and all because someone thought he was going to drop the dime on them. Something about someone big and powerful who was tying up loose ends. Frankie knew things that the cops would want to know, but he didn’t know everything. There were gaps. He knew his old man had some big bit of evidence stashed away somewhere, but was he going to help the cops? Could he be that person? It had been imprinted on him from day one that you never grassed, and you never helped the police, but things had changed. He was the last of the Hardies, and if he didn’t help the cops, then the bastard who put his brother in the morgue would get away with it.

He didn’t look up at the familiar rattle of keys in the cell door. ‘Grub’s up, Frankie,’ said Mr Jeffries, his head poking around the cell door.

‘Awesome,’ said Frankie, standing up, his voice flat and laden with sarcasm.

‘Stovies again, unfortunately, but most of the guys are back in their pads now. Grab your food and then straight back in, eh?’ said Jeffries, who opened the cell door wider.

‘Jesus,’ said Frankie, shaking his head, the cloud of depression thickening around his head. He couldn’t even have his bloody food out of his cell, since they’d risk-assessed him after his brother got topped. No new intelligence of hostile intentions, no need for full segregation, but meals in his cell and only out for necessities like showers and healthcare had been the decision by Cole, the head screw. They’d offered him rule 43 with all the nonces, but he’d told them to fuck off. He was a Hardie. Hardies didn’t hide away with all the paedos.

He had to turn to one side to get past a silver-haired, tattooed elderly con he’d not seen before, who was disconsolately pushing a dirty mop along an even dirtier floor, a tiny roll-up somehow attached to his lower lip. What sounded like twenty types of music, from rock to hip-hop to country, was blaring out from twenty cells. It all made for an unpleasant and febrile atmosphere, only made worse by the sour and unpleasant stench of the spice that was clearly reducing his co-inmates into whatever oblivion they were seeking.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.