One Away

by Allan Prior

Genres: Mystery; Suspense

Synopsis

One away...' is the traditional cry of warders on Dartmoor. Tam Bass heard it as he lay in the grass. To carry out the intricate plan for his escape Tam had to run - and run to a pre-arranged rendevous on the other side of the moor. But as his brothers Ruben and Peter flashed past the meeting point on their motorbikes, there were already signs that something was wrong - that the Bass brothers had started a dreadful chain of events that they were now powerless to stop...

Release date: October 24, 2013

Publisher: Mulholland

Print pages: 144

Sample

TAM LAY in the grass and watched the warders running towards the crane, tilted crazily fifty yards away in the quarry. He could see Stiffy’s hand moving, like an actor’s. The warders stood round him in a ring, dogs around an alley cat, bristling, prepared to be outwitted. Tam remembered Stiffy’s warning and lowered his head. Keep it down, Stiffy had said, if they see you you’re done, we’re all done. Tam fanned the moor-sweet air down into his burning lungs, tried to harden his shaking legs. Stiffy had said the fifty-yard dash would be the worst: if any of them looked away from the noise of the rock falling it would be the end. Nobody had, but the danger was only half over. He had done his bit; the rest was up to Stiffy.

Tam lifted his eyes again. Stiffy was still talking but now he was pointing towards the fall of rock. The warders were not looking at Stiffy any longer, they had turned towards the heavy cloud of white dust where the fall had been. They seemed to hesitate, their carbines were still at the ready, but they had stopped blowing their whistles. Tam felt his bowels contract in a spasm of excitement. Two of the warders were walking slowly, suspiciously, over to the cloud of white dust. The others stayed in a circle, around Stiffy, who was still talking and waving his hands. Tam felt, for the first time in his life, a wave of gratitude for a gorgio. Yet Stiffy was being paid, Ruben had arranged that. A gorgio would do anything for money, even in jail they were ready to earn it. Stiffy was different because he was prepared to take a risk for his share. Tam didn’t have to like Stiffy but he had to admire the way Stiffy had behaved after he climbed down from his crane, never moving anything except his hands, never giving the warders an excuse to succumb to their hysteria, reassuring them, soothing them, never ceasing his flow of talk. Tam admired Stiffy’s cunning, he savoured the satisfaction and contempt behind it. For a gorgio, Stiffy would have made a good gypsy, except that no gypsy would have taken money for such a task.

Tam looked around the bowl of the quarry. The working-parties were all standing quite still in the sun, warders and prisoners, looking at the ring of men around Stiffy and at the white cloud of dust. No work had been done since the thunderclap noise of the rock falling. The men strained for a better view but nobody moved his feet. The warders guarding the work-parties were angry and afraid, they were fingering their carbines, waiting for a signal. The work-parties were all below Tam, his run had been uphill, but the nearest warder was only fifty yards away. He had not looked Tam’s way when the noise of the rock-fall had reverberated round the quarry. As Stiffy had predicted, he had looked towards the crane. They all had. Tam peered at the young warder and hated him. The young warder’s carbine was pointing at his work-party, but he was looking at the two men in uniform cautiously circling the rock-fall below. The fat one, the gorgio Tam knew as the Chief, hitched his carbine into a slung position and clambered slowly back down the rock towards Stiffy. Tam swallowed, his eyes watered, he turned his gaze down. In a moment he would look up, in a moment he would know whether it had worked.

Tam opened his eyes and breathed deep. Two burning eyes looked back into his. Tam put out his hand to strike the golden lizard from the tiny rock but it did not jump at the nearness of him. He let his hand fall. No movement, Stiffy had said, no matter what happens lie still. He grimaced. The lizard was wiser than he was.

Tam raised his eyes over the fringe of grass. The fat warder had joined the circle and was pointing his finger at the crane and then at the slowly dissolving cloud of white dust. Stiffy was still talking, faster than ever. His movements were freer now, more urgent. He was demanding something of them, they were looking at one another and then at the fat warder. Suddenly the man put his whistle to his mouth and blew three short blasts. Tam suddenly felt ill, he gave way to the sickness gladly. In a moment he would have to run, no matter what Stiffy had said, he could not lie there and wait until they found him. If they start to blow their whistles again they’ve rumbled it: that was what Stiffy had told him. He raised his head, dizzy but sure of what he had to do. He would run hard across the moor, towards the ridge, there would be cover then. He might prove them all wrong, he thought despairingly, he might even get off the moor. Now was the time to run.

His legs would not obey him.

Tam reached slowly down and pinched his right thigh. It hurt. So this was the way it would end, they would come and nose him out like a ferret noses a shushey, he would lie waiting like a trembling rabbit, he wasn’t even going to make them sweat for it? He raised his eyes again and looked down, sick with self-disgust. The fat warder was blowing his whistle again but something new had happened. Every eye in the quarry was looking his way. The fat warder was waving his arms and shouting but the words were lost in the echoing quarry. Tam waited for the cry of one away! but the words were still impossible to distinguish. Tam supposed they were telling him to come down quietly, not to give any trouble – they hated and feared trouble – and he wondered blankly who had seen him run. One of the other prisoners probably; it would have taken about this time for a tip-off to percolate through to the Chief. Tam pulled his leg very slowly under him. He was not surprised that it moved this time. He had been given an order. He had forgotten how to move unless he was given an order.

Behind him, a horse neighed. Tam fell gently forward again, on to his face. He understood, now. The fat warder was shouting at one of the riders, one of the circle of horsemen ringing the quarry. Stiffy had not planned for this, he had not expected the riders to come in so close. It was impossible to take care of everything, Stiffy had said, all you do is plan and after that it’s luck. There’s luck of two sorts, yours and theirs. If you get yours, you’re away.

The horse neighed again. He knows I’m here, Tam thought, but his rider doesn’t, his rider doesn’t know his own horse. Tam smiled, in bitter contempt. A gorgio and a horse, they’ve forgotten about horses, all they know about are guns, and wheels that move in oil. Tam could hear the rider on the ridge behind him silencing the animal, so that he could make out the Chief’s words. The strength came slowly back into his limbs as he heard the word that Stiffy had said they would use, if everything went well. It came a second time, more clearly than before. Ambulance, they were sending for an ambulance.

Tam began to sweat for the first time, but it was a sweat of strength. It seeped through the harsh wool of the prison shirt and trickles of moisture ran down his belly. He let his leg muscles relax and tightened them again. They responded. He could run now, if he wanted to, but he didn’t want to. Any mug can run, Stiffy had said, look at the mugs that do it. It takes a wide merchant to lie still. Tam bit off a blade of grass and slowly chewed it into a juicy ball. He could lie still now.

The horse neighed again, and the rider slapped his muzzle. Tam could hear the creak of leather and the click of the spur, as the rider brought his horse forward. The Chief was still shouting, he was asking the rider to telephone. Tam tried not to think of the horse, it was well known that if you thought about a horse he always neighed. It was the rider he had to fear; if he came any nearer it would be all over, he would have to run. Tam knew what he would do then. It was no part of Stiffy’s plan but he would pull the rider from the horse and ride it to the ridge. If he had to kill the rider he would do it. He had killed a man before and he had no special feelings about it, if it was that man or himself. He tried not to think of the carbine on the rider’s shoulder.

The fat Chief down in the quarry stopped shouting at the rider and began to wave his arms angrily at the working-parties. The warders in charge of the parties shouted too, their voices striking viciously but happily at the men, chivvying them back to work. Nothing was wrong, after all. Nobody was away.

Behind Tam the rider swung round, then down the track towards the telephone box on the ridge. The horse neighed a last time in protest before the rider moved out of Tam’s hearing. Below, the Chief was shouting new orders, but his voice was no longer frightened, there was a different kind of urgency in it. He hurried over to the rocks and began to move the smaller ones with his own hands. After a moment he gave up and shouted angrily at Stiffy. Stiffy climbed into his crane as squads of prisoners and their guards doubled across to the fall of rock and the cloud of slowly-clearing dust. Their shovels rang sharply on the stone, and Tam could see a new gang bringing long planks of wood from the barrow-paths, to use as levers. Very slowly, the crane moved a large rock, gripping it in steel fingers and swinging away from the group. At this there was another fall and the men, prisoners and warders, jumped clear. The Chief shouted and the party returned, rather more slowly, to the rocks. Tam breathed deeply, in relief. They were doing what Stiffy had said they would do; they were beginning to dig.

Tam lay and watched them. He watched while they waited for the ambulance, and when it came, waved it with many directions down into the quarry, glad of a simple job, easily accomplished. A tall, fair man in a civilian suit came with the ambulance, besides the prison doctor, who carried a bag. The tall man walked around the fall; once he looked up thoughtfully, to the fringe of the quarry, and beyond to the ridge and the ring of motionless riders. He nodded his head briefly and spoke quietly to the Chief, who remained at attention all the time. When the tall man spoke to. him Stiffy did not wave his arms. Stiffy seemed wary, and ill at ease. Tam understood, this was another crisis. After a time the tall man waved work on, and for a while he watched the gangs moving the rocks. It was slow work, and Tam had only Stiffy’s word they could not move it in time. He squinted at the sun. It was falling low behind the ridge. Shadows were slowly falling across the bracken, purple, from gorsebush and outcrop of rock. There was an hour to kill. Tam tried to think of something that would make lying down on his face seem easier. He thought of Olwen.

He thought of her body first, because he was young. Olwen lying next to him that night it all started, as they had lain whenever they met on the road – how many years, four or five? – ever since he was fifteen. Olwen had been the first; there had been others, of course, but only one Olwen who whispered the gorgio words all the time he made love to her. Ruben said, what did he expect, she was a Welsh romani, and warmer than most. The sweat began to prickle along Tam’s back as he thought about Olwen, and his loins stirred. He was glad of that, glad of the sudden muscle and tension. Towards the end, in the prison, he had not been able to want. The urgency had gone, the constant denial had robbed his will. Now, at least, he could hunger. Olwen, he spoke the name softly to the unblinking fearful lizard, Olwen smooth that night in the hayfield, choking back her scream as the first blow from the butt-end of the shotgun struck him between his shoulder blades, Olwen pulling her skirt around her as the laugh rang out, Olwen terrified and tearful as she saw what he had done, the farmer’s hands twitching in the dirt of his own field. Olwen running with him back to the vardo, back to Ruben; and his brother listening quietly and looking at Olwen with contempt, as he stammered out his story before the police came. Tam had not been able to bring himself to tell Ruben it was his fault, not Olwen’s, that they were in the hayfield. He was in trouble and he had come running. He always ran to Ruben.

Tam rubbed his forehead along the rough serge of his prison jacket. Ruben had not been able to save him from this. Wait, Ruben had said at the trial, if we get through this we’ll find a way. Now, at last, after so many nights and days, Ruben had acted. The men down in the quarry were hauling at the heavy stones because Ruben had decided they should. His power reached even this hopeless place. Tam felt better just for thinking of him.

Below, the men looked tall in the lengthening shadows. The far-off ridge broke the sun’s edge and the quarry fell into purple shadow. The men tugged at their collars; night came swift and cold on the moor. Tam studied the men around the rock-fall. They had stopped working, and were listening to the tall man. When he had finished, he got into the ambulance and it drove slowly away. The prisoners watched it go. As soon as it was out of sight the Chief began to shout orders. The working-parties formed into files. They were doing what Stiffy had said they would do, they were getting the prisoners back before nightfall. This was the last risk.

Tam breathed and pressed his face into the grass. He could hear the chink of the prisoners’ boots as they marched towards him up the quarry path. The sound grew louder, and he opened his eyes and saw the young warder’s boots ten paces from him. The warder was bringing his men around the rim of the quarry. Stiffy had said he might do that, if he did it meant they had the luck, not him. Tam closed his eyes again. His throat tickled, his eyes smarted, he wanted to shout and weep, as he had shouted and wept that first night in a cell. He waited for the cry of discovery, but it was another sound he heard, that of a blow, and a curse. The warder’s boots disappeared; his voice rose as he swore at two of the prisoners. He cried their names triumphantly, he knew who they were. The men didn’t reply; they marched sullenly on, the young warder close behind them.

Tam breathed out slowly. Stiffy had thought of that too, as he had thought of everything else.

Below, a guard had been set, as if on a tomb. Two warders stood at fifty paces. It was exactly as Stiffy had predicted, all the prisoners would be sent away, a rescue-gang would come out. By then, well, he knew what would happen by then. Have one for me, Stiffy had said, a little blonde, young, and don’t forget it’s always free when you’ve been in here, first night out.

Tam watched the sun slowly fall behind the tor. The sweat had dried on his shirt and he was beginning to chill. At last, he could no longer see the warders guarding the rock-fall, but one called to the other, and Tam recognized the awe in his voice. The warders thought they were in the presence of death. If they think you’re under there, Stiffy had said, they won’t worry too much about you. He had grimaced: not till they find you ain’t. Tam rose quickly to his feet, and a feeling of pure joy shocked through him. He looked at the rock. The lizard had gone.

RUBEN REVVED the engine of the Norton and listened to the sound. It c. . .