The Big Breach - Index of
The Big Breach - Index of
The Big Breach - Index of
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<strong>The</strong> <strong>Big</strong> <strong>Breach</strong>; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments <strong>of</strong> http://www.192.comclunking <strong>of</strong> the heavy locks and the slapping <strong>of</strong> the flaps. Oneirritated prisoner banged his metal waste-paper bin against the celldoor and soon everybody joined in. I lost my temper too, and kicked mycell door so hard that I bruised my toe, making me madder still.A few prisoners who had not yet gone into their cells were putting up aprotest, Craggs the most vociferous. I heard Mr Richards hollering atCraggs, `In your cell, Craggs!' even his good humour tested to thelimit.`I'm havin' my fucking mug <strong>of</strong> water,' screamed back Craggs.`Craggs, get in your cell NOW!'<strong>The</strong> argument was hotting up and I hopped over to my flap. <strong>The</strong> screw hadslammed it shut with such haste that it had bounced back open slightlyand the spur floor was just visible. Mr Richards was standing in front<strong>of</strong> the hot water urn, blocking the furious Craggs. `Craggs, if you takeone step closer, you're down the block.'Craggs glared at Mr Richards and then rushed, leaping for his throat.Mr Richards just had time to press his belt alarm before the angryinmate was on top <strong>of</strong> him. Craggs' moment <strong>of</strong> vengeance and glory wasshort-lived. He was quickly overpowered by screws bursting in from theother spurs and was hauled <strong>of</strong>f down to the segregation block, never tobe seen again.<strong>The</strong> tension <strong>of</strong> the day's events was too much for Mockalenny. Thatevening at unlock for dinner he emerged from his cell wearing nothingbut his underpants, singing `God save our Princess Anne' to the tune <strong>of</strong>the British national anthem. He had painted his face with toothpastefor tribal war paint, had fashioned a head-band out <strong>of</strong> threads from hisblanket and was brandishing a pool-cue like a spear. <strong>The</strong> screws allowedhim get his dinner, still singing and waving his spear. When he hadeaten his meal and we were all banged-up once more, he was escortedfrom the spur and we never saw him again either.A few days before release, Mr Richards called me up for anotherprobation visit. Making my way over to the legal visits rooms, I wasexpecting to see the pretty young <strong>of</strong>ficer again. But this time it was asenior male <strong>of</strong>ficer who didn't smile or shake hands in greeting.`Tomlinson, here's your probation conditions.' He handed me a two-pagesheet. `You will not be allowed to leave the country after you arereleased and you will have to hand both your British and New Zealandpassports to the Metropolitan police SB. You will not be allowed tospeak to any journalists or any members <strong>of</strong> the media. If you do youwill be immediately reimprisoned. Do you understand?' I nodded, thoughI found it difficult to believe that they could impose such Stalinistconditions. `And finally, you will not be allowed to use the internetor e-mail.'`You're not serious,' I laughed. `Don't tell me, I am not allowed touse a telephone either, or read a newspaper, I suppose?'<strong>The</strong> probation <strong>of</strong>ficer glared humourlessly at me, and didn't reply.page- 195 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version <strong>of</strong> this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com