‘Enhanced?’ I ventured.
‘That’s when a con’s been on good behaviour for at least three months. When he’s enhanced he gets all sorts of privileges, like more time out of his cell, better job, even more pay in some nicks.’
‘And how do you get put on report?’
‘That’s easy enough. Swear at a screw, turn up late for work, fail a drugs test. I was once put on report for nicking an orange from the kitchen. Diabolical liberty.’
‘So was your friend Pete ever put on report?’ I asked.
‘Never,’ Mick replied. ‘Good as gold, wasn’t he, because he wanted a visit from his tart. Well, he does his three months, works in the stores, keeps his nose clean, and Bob’s your uncle, he’s enhanced. Following Saturday his tart turns up at the nick to pay him a visit.
‘In open prisons, visits are held in the biggest room available, usually the gym or the canteen. And you have to remember, security isn’t like a closed nick, with sniffer dogs and CCTV cameras following your every move, so you can behave natural when you’re with your tart.’ He paused. ‘Well, within limits. I mean you can’t have sex like they do in Swedish prisons. You know — what do they call it?’
‘Conjugal visits?’
‘Well, whatever, it’s sex, and we don’t allow it. Mind you, a screw will turn a blind eye — when a con puts his hand up a tart’s skirt, but then I remember in one prison—’
‘Pete,’ I reminded him.
‘Oh, yeah, Pete. Well, Karen came to visit Pete the following Saturday. All’s going well until Pete asks about his best mate, Brian. Karen clams up, doesn’t say a word does she, then turns bright red. Pete susses straight away what she’s been up to: tart, having it off with his best mate while he’s inside. She lit his short fuse, didn’t she? So Pete jumps up and puts one on her. Karen goes arse over tits, and lands up flat on the floor. The alarm goes off and screws come running through every door. They had to pull him off Karen and drag him away to segregation. Ever been to segregation, Jeff?’
‘No, can’t say I have.’
‘Well, don’t bother. Diabolical liberty. Bare cell, mattress on the floor, steel basin screwed into the wall and a steel bog what don’t flush. Next day Pete’s put on report, and comes up in front of the governor, who, you have to remember, is God Almighty. He don’t need no judge or jury to help him decide if you’re guilty — Home Office regulations are quite enough.’
‘So what happened to Pete?’
‘Sent back to closed conditions, wasn’t he? Shipped off to Lincoln prison the same day, with another three months added to his sentence. Some cons, when they’re sent back to a closed nick, lose their rag, start breaking the place up, taking drugs, setting their cell on fire, so they never get out. I was banged up with a muppet in Liverpool once. Started off with a three-year sentence and he’s still there — eleven years later. Last time he came up in front of the governor for—’
‘Pete,’ I said, trying not to sound exasperated.
‘Oh, yeah, Pete. Well, Pete goes the other way.’
‘The other way?’
‘Good as gold all the time he’s banged up at Lincoln. Three months later he’s back enhanced, with all his privileges restored. Gets a job in the kitchen, works like a slave, six months later he puts in a request for a visit and it’s granted, with the exception of one Karen Slater. But he never wanted to see that whore again anyway. No, this time Pete applied for a visit from one of his old mates who was on the out at the time. Now this mate confirms that Brian is not only having it off with Karen, but now that Pete’s safely banged up in Lincoln she’s moved in with him. What a diabolical liberty,’ said Mick. ‘Pete’s mate even asked if he wanted Brian done over. “No, don’t go down that road,” Pete told him. “I’ll be taking care of him myself, all in good time.” He never went into no detail of what he had in mind, on account of the fact that in the end someone always opens their mouth. Must be the same in politics, Jeff.’
‘Pete.’
‘Well, Pete goes on being as good as gold. Cleanest pad, working all hours, never swearing at no screws, never on report. Result? Twelve months later he’s back at Hollesley Bay open prison, with only nine months left to serve.’
‘And once he was back at Hollesley Bay, did he try to contact Karen?’
‘No, didn’t put in a request for a visit. In fact, never even mentioned her name.’
‘So what was his game?’ I asked, slipping into the prison jargon.
‘He only had one game all along, Jeff: he wanted to get himself transferred to the enhancement block, on the other side of the prison, didn’t he.’
‘I’ve lost you,’ I admitted.
‘All part of his master plan, wasn’t it? When you first arrive at Hollesley Bay, which, don’t forget, is an open nick, you’re allocated a room in one of the two main blocks.’
‘Are you?’
‘Yeah, north and south block. But if you get enhanced — another three more months of behaving like a saint — then they move you across to the enhancement block, which gives you even more privileges.’
‘Like what?’
‘You can have a visit from a mate every Saturday. Pete wasn’t interested. You can go home once a month on a Sunday — he’s still not interested. You can apply for a job outside of the prison during the week — still no interest, even though it would of given him a chance to pick up an extra bob or two before he’s released.’
‘Then why bother to earn all those privileges if you don’t plan to take advantage of them?’ I asked.
‘Weren’t part of Pete’s master plan, was it? Trouble with you, Jeff, is that you don’t think like a criminal.’
‘So why was Pete so keen to get himself transferred to the enhancement block?’
‘Good question at last, Jeff, but for that you’ll need a little background. Pete ’ad already worked out that over on the enhancement block they ’ad five screws on duty during the day, but only two at night, on account of the fact that if a prisoner reaches enhanced status he can be trusted, not to mention how short-staffed the prison service is. And don’t forget that, in an open nick, there are no cells, no bars, no keys and no perimeter walls, so anyone can abscond.’
‘So why don’t they?’ I asked.
‘Because not many cons who’ve made it to an open prison are that interested in escaping.’
‘Why not?’
‘Logic, isn’t it? They’re coming to the end of their sentence, and if they’re caught, and nine out of ten of the morons are, you’re sent straight back to a closed nick, with extra time added to your sentence. So forget it, it’s just not worth it. I remember a con called Dale. What a muppet he was. He only had three weeks left to serve, when he—’
‘Pete,’ I tried again.
‘You’re such an impatient bastard, Jeff, and it’s not as if you’re going anywhere. So where was I?’
‘Only two officers on duty in the enhancement block at night,’ I said, checking my notes.
‘Oh, yeah. But even on the enhancement block you have to report to the front office at seven in the morning, and then again at nine each night. Now Pete, as I told you, ’ad a job in the prison stores, handing out clothes to the new cons, and supplying laundry once a week for the regulars, so the screws always knew where he was, which was also part of Pete’s plan. But if he hadn’t reported to the front office at seven in the morning and then again at nine at night, he would have been put on report, which would have meant he’d be sent back to north block with all his privileges removed. So Pete never once misses a roll call, his cell was always spick and span, and his light is always out long before eleven.’