He went straight to her office to report back on the interview, explaining that George Barras had also been present.
‘What did you think of him?’ she asked.
‘Cocky. Arrogant. Thinks he’s got away with it again,’ Jack said. ‘I made sure he knew we were onto him, and his wife is now on the radar of social services and the domestic abuse agency.’
‘Well, thank you for that,’ Armani said, apparently pleased with the way things had gone. ‘Now, I’d like you to check over the suspects we have earmarked in this gang war operation. It’s likely all down to turf boundaries, but the last knife attack was outside a primary school. You have the details on your desk; draw up a priority list of those who have criminal records for violence, then others who are known to us.’
Jack nodded and went back to his desk. There was a stack of files beside his computer, but before he tackled them he decided to write up his report from the Barras house.
He took the file from his briefcase and began to put the pages back in order. He knew he had been lax by not reading everything before speaking to Mrs Barras, but he still didn’t know why he’d been sent to interview her at all. Once he got the file sorted, he read through the details of the previous assaults. The first one was comparatively minor: Mrs Barras had a bruised arm and red cheeks from being slapped by her husband. He admitted he lost his temper and received a caution for common assault but wasn’t charged. The second incident had been called in by a neighbour who heard Mrs Barras screaming and rang 999. When police arrived, they noticed Mrs Barras was clutching her stomach and had bruising on her legs and arms. They suspected George had kicked and punched her, so arrested him and took him to the station to be interviewed.
With her husband out of the way, the officers spoke with Mrs Barras again but she was still adamant she had fallen halfway down the stairs and landed badly in the hallway, which was why she screamed so loudly. George told the same story at the station and was released without charge.
Jack then looked at the most recent incident where Maria Barras was taken to hospital and George Barras was again arrested. He read the attending doctor’s statement, which had an envelope attached to it with a paper clip. Jack opened it, and inside were photographs of Maria’s broken fingers, split lip and extensive bruising to the right eye, with the doctor expressing concerns about damage to the cornea. Lastly were two photographs of the scalp with a large area of hair torn out by the roots. Jack leaned back in his chair. This was clearly a vicious assault and no accident.
Jack turned on his desk computer and entered George Barras’s name and date of birth on the criminal records database. As expected, he found the caution for common assault and two other incidents where George hadn’t been charged. He was about to close it when he noticed a ‘next page’ marker at the bottom of the screen. He pressed it and discovered George also had an assault charge against him from five years earlier. The case officer was DS B. Armani.
‘Well, well,’ he said to himself. He still didn’t know what Armani’s agenda was, but now he was determined to find out.
Chapter 14
The prison staff had organised a farewell drinks party for Janet at the local pub that evening. She had been on duty all day and was touched by the surprise announcement. Another few days and she’d have served her time... then she’d be off to New Zealand. But she couldn’t start to relax yet; she still hadn’t quite fulfilled her part of the deal made with Josh. Sachet eight would have to be administered today.
Arriving home after her shift, she spent time clearing away her drug equipment, taking everything that could be incriminating and dumping it all in a bin two streets away. She then changed into a smart black cocktail dress before joining everyone at the local pub. They had taken a small room above the main bar. A wobbly trellis table brimmed with wine and titbits, and all available staff had gathered to thank Janet for her work at the prison. They had all chipped in and bought her a silk scarf as a farewell gift. As she had a glass of wine and chatted about New Zealand, for a second she almost forgot what she had done.
Just after shift change on the affectionately named ‘nonce wing’, the night officer, Don, did his rounds, peering into every cell through the door hatch to make sure everyone was alive and well. As normal, most were reading, sleeping or masturbating. Middleton, however, was seated on the edge of his bed, bent forwards with his head between his knees and his knuckles dragging on the cell floor.
Don smirked. ‘Trying to give yourself a blowie, Rodney? Oi, Middleton, stop mucking about and get in bed. Now!’ When Middleton didn’t respond, Don called for a second officer. The cell door was opened and they entered, again instructing Middleton to do as he was told. Losing patience, Don pushed hard on his shoulders to make him sit up, but he rocked back, frozen in that grotesque shape, hitting his head hard on the cell wall before coming to rest on his side, head still between his knees and his hands down by the side of his feet, his fingers frozen in claws. They could now see bloodstains on the thighs of his trousers. ‘Jesus, what the fuck’s wrong with him?’
As the Governor stepped up to make his speech, Janet downed her umpteenth glass of wine.
‘Janet, love. What can I say? Our loss is New Zealand’s gain.’ His speech continued in the same meaningless vain, mainly because he’d never actually met Janet and didn’t know anything about her.
After he’d finished and everyone could thankfully go back to drinking, a call came through from one of the on-duty officers, requesting Doctor Zardari return to the prison. As he passed, Janet asked what had happened. ‘I don’t know,’ Zardari smiled. ‘But the prisoners are no longer your responsibility. You forget about them and enjoy your night.’
The male duty nurse fumbled with the naloxone kit, desperately trying to remember what Janet had done a week earlier. The vial was prefilled so all he needed to do was attach the needle, but his fingers refused to work and he dropped it onto the floor saying that he’d now need another as that one was no longer sterile.
‘Fuck that,’ Don snapped as he picked up the needle and handed it back. ‘Look at him. You ain’t got time to worry about health and fucking safety.’
The nurse finally attached the needle then stabbed it into Middleton’s leg and pushed the fluid in.
‘You’ll be all right any second now, Rodney. This stuff works fast.’ The nurse was expecting Middleton to snap back to life, straighten up and maybe even punch him for wasting his fix. But nothing happened.
‘You must’ve done it wrong, you idiot,’ Don snapped.
‘I didn’t,’ the nurse insisted. ‘He’s supposed to be OK!’
Don shook his head. ‘Does he look OK? Do something else.’
‘He might need another dose.’ As the nurse prepped a second dose of naloxone, Don cut Middleton’s trousers to expose the injuries that were bleeding through. The bleeding, oozing ulcers were repulsive and, once exposed, they stank.
‘Fuck me!’ Don slapped his hand to his mouth, trying to control his gag reflex.
‘God, they’re infected.’ The nurse gasped. ‘They’re all infected. I don’t understand. He fell. That’s all.’ As the nurse injected Middleton for a second time, the bodycam on Don’s shoulder was recording everything. Middleton’s bizarre frozen shape, his petrified, panicked eyes, his bleeding ulcerated thighs and his total lack of response to the naloxone. The male nurse raced from the cell shouting that he was going to call an ambulance. Middleton’s breathing became more and more laboured, and his face became distorted by excruciating pain. Every muscle in his body was tightening and freezing, including his heart.