Captives

FIFTY

It was smaller than a man's thumb nail and Nicholson held it between the thumb and finger of his right hand with surprising delicacy.

The microchip was square and the entire complex structure was encased in smooth plastic. Nicholson laid it on a piece of black velvet that lay on the work top, allowing his visitors to get a better look at the tiny object.

'Is this some kind of joke?' Fairham asked.

'Why should it be?' the Governor asked irritably.

'You promised to show us a way of relieving overcrowding. Is this meant to be it?'

'The idea was first perfected in America. A number of states are already using it,' Nicholson declared.

'But that didn't work,' said Fairham.

'Ours is a different system. The microchip is inserted into the gastrocnemius muscle of the prisoner's leg.' He looked at Fairham with scorn. 'The calf muscle, to keep it simple.' He held the other's gaze for a moment then continued. 'The operation takes less than fifteen minutes. It's carried out under local anaesthetic, there is no pain to the prisoner. No side effects.'

'What does it do?' Clinton asked, his eyes fixed on the tiny square.

'Once inside the prisoner's leg it gives off something called a Synch-pulse,' Nicholson said. 'A tiny electrical charge which in turn produces a signal that can be picked up by monitoring equipment here at the prison. It's like a tracking device.'

'What range has it got?' Merrick asked.

'Fifteen miles at the moment,' the Governor told him. 'The modifications that are being made to it will probably increase that range by anything up to thirty miles.'

'And what is the object exactly, Mr Nicholson?' Anne Hopper enquired, looking at the Governor.

'An end to overcrowding, Miss Hopper,' he said. 'The thing you all seem so concerned about.'

'How the hell can that,' Fairham jabbed a finger towards the microchip, 'help with overcrowding?'

'The device is placed in the leg of certain remand prisoners,' Nicholson explained. 'They can then be released from Whitely and monitored on our electronic equipment here. We know where they are twenty-four hours a day.'

'And what if they move outside the range of the tracking device?' Clinton murmured, his eyes still fixed on the device.

'We don't allow that to happen,' Nicholson said. 'The prisoners are picked for the operation according to the severity of their crime. Everything is explained to them, including the fact that if they do travel beyond the range of the device they'll be re-arrested and prosecuted for attempted escape. They usually co-operate. It's in their own interests to do so. Many of them prefer this to being stuck inside for twenty-three hours a day. Some are even working while they're on the outside waiting for their trials.'

'Do I detect a note of compassion in your attitude, Mr Nicholson?' said Fairham, contemptuously. 'You actually sound as if you care about what happens to the men who undergo this operation.'

'It gets them out of my hair, Mr Fairham,' the Governor said, 'it means that my officers have fewer prisoners to deal with.'

'How many men has this been tried on so far?' Clinton enquired.

'Ten,' Nicholson said. 'And all of them have been successful.'

'And what is your definition of success, Mr Nicholson?' Anne Hopper wanted to know.

He looked at her impassively.

'Not one of them tried to escape,' he said. 'They all reported to the police station they'd been assigned to and they all went on to stand trial.'

'When is the device removed?' Clinton asked.

'As soon as the trial is over.'

Clinton stood back and nodded, looking at the microchip then at Nicholson.

'Well, I must say I'm impressed, Mr Nicholson,' said the MP.

'Me too,' Merrick echoed, 'it seems a great step forward.'

Fairham merely prodded the device with one index finger.

'Who does the operations?' he wanted to know.

'There are a number of doctors involved,' Nicholson told him. 'None resident at the prison.'

'That's a pity,' Anne Hopper intoned. 'It would have been interesting to meet them.'

'The work is still in its infancy, Miss Hopper. They're not too anxious to be put in the limelight just yet,' Nicholson told her.

'Why? In case something goes wrong?' Fairham said, challengingly.

'As I said, the work is still relatively new. Until it's completely perfected we'd rather keep it quiet,' the Governor said, glaring once again at the other man.

'I can understand that,' Clinton said, smiling, it seems to be successful though, Mr Nicholson. Full marks to you. We'll be reporting this as very satisfactory progress when we return to Whitehall.'

'Satisfactory?' Fairham snapped. 'This man is using remand prisoners as human guinea pigs and you call that satisfactory?'

'I think you're being a little over-dramatic, Mr Fairham,' Clinton said, smiling patronisingly.

'It is preferable to the alternative of being locked up twenty-three hours out of twenty-four,' Merrick echoed.

Nicholson smiled triumphantly at Fairham.

'What is your view, Miss Hopper?' the Governor wanted to know.

The woman shrugged slightly.

'I suppose I would have to agree with Mr Clinton and Mr Merrick,' she said. 'As long as the patients are volunteers and the risks are explained to them before the operation, I can see no objection myself.'

'You appear to be out-voted again, Mr Fairham,' Nicholson said, smiling.

'I'd like to know a little more about the actual mechanics of the project,' Clinton said. 'How the tracking devices are built, what the operation entails, how the prisoners are monitored. That kind of thing. I will have to make a report to the House, you understand?'

Nicholson nodded, his ingratiating smile spreading.

'Certainly. If you'd like to come back to my office we can discuss it there,' he said, looking at Fairham.

The other man was flushed with anger.

The Governor turned to lead the small procession out.

'We've only seen a small part of the hospital wing,'

Fairham observed. 'I'd like to inspect the facilities here before we leave.'

Nicholson retained his air of calm.

'Of course,' he said, leading them towards a door at one end of the room. It opened out into the infirmary. There were half a dozen prisoners in the beds; other men in white overalls moved among them, performing their duties. One was mopping the floor, another dispensing pills. A third man was pushing a trolley, collecting dirty laundry. Patients and workers alike gave the Governor and his visitors only cursory glances. More lingering looks were reserved for Anne Hopper.

A warder stood at one end of the infirmary, standing by a thick metal door.

Nicholson looked towards him, hoping that none of the visitors noticed the look of apprehension on his face.

He stood back as the visitors moved among the men, speaking to them where possible, usually meeting with only perfunctory grunts in answer to their questions. The Governor caught the eye of the warder at the far end of the infirmary and the man nodded almost imperceptibly. A silent answer to an unasked question. The Governor licked his lips, aware that they were once more dry.

Come on, hurry up and get out of here.

One by one the visitors returned to join him.

They're not going to ask.

Fairham looked to the far end of the infirmary.

'What's through there?' he asked, pointing at the door.

'The morgue,' Nicholson said quickly. 'It's where we keep any prisoners who die until they've been identified, or until arrangements can be made for their burial.'

Fairham nodded slowly.

Come on, come on.

'I think we've seen enough now, Mr Nicholson,' Clinton said.

Fairham was still gazing at the door.

The Governor licked his lips again.

'We'll go back to my office, then,' he said.

At last Fairham tore his gaze away and filed out in front of Nicholson. The Governor glanced back at the solitary warder and nodded.

As he walked out he let out a sigh of relief.

He would return here as soon as the delegation was gone. For now, at least, it was still safe.