ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror(86)

“Come one, man,” Damien said. “We got six months together. I can’t be having a mute as a roomie.” The lad still said nothing. It was starting to annoy him now. “Just snap out of it! We can have a laugh in here, if you cheer up. We can be like brothers or something.”

“I already have a brother.”

“He speaks at last! Great, so you have a brother. What’s his name?”

“Davie.”

“Davie? Not as tough as just plain Dave, but not bad. So what’s your name, then?”

The lad looked at Damien and seemed to have utter distrust in his eyes. The answer eventually came, “Francis.”

Damien sniggered. “Now that is a queer name. I think I’ll call you Frankie; much better.”

Frankie shrugged, not seeming to care what he was called.”

Damien looked around the cell for conversation starters, for belongs of this boy that may share something about him, but the room was empty beyond a desk, chair, and the beds. “So what are you in for?”

“Drugs.”

“No shit?” said Frankie. “Me too. How long you get?”

“Three years.”

Damien whistled, impressed. “Wow! You must have been carrying big to get a stretch like that at your age.”

“A grand’s worth. I got done for assault too.”

Damien couldn’t fit the crimes to Frankie, he didn’t seem right for them. “So why are you a bloody shambles if you’re a drug dealing hard man? You should have it made in here.”

Frankie sat up in bed, and started to act a little more relaxed. “S’what I thought. I came here thinking I’d be respected for what I done, but they didn’t want to know.”

“You have to earn respect, man. You can’t come in playing the big’un till you know the lay of the land. Who’s top dog?”

“Conner.”

Damien nodded. “Conner West? I know that guy. He ain’t nothing. Give me a week and I’ll deal with him. There’re a few lads in here that work for my dad so I’ll have the backup.”

Frankie seemed to perk up. “You’re going to take out Conner?”

Damien shrugged. “Won’t need to. Once I have enough backup and support, he’ll just step off and let me take over. Like I said, he don’t have the minerals to take me on once I’m set up. You stick with me and you’ll have an easy ride.”

“I want Conner dead.”

“Okay,” said Damien, taken slightly aback by his cellmate’s vehemence. “Why?”

Frankie looked at him and seemed close to tears; there was a slight twitch on the lad’s face that must have been distracting to anyone having a conversation with him. “Because...”

Damien examined the expression on Frankie’s face and understood the problem. There was no need for full explanation because some things in prison were pretty clear: The strong prey on the weak, for one. Conner had been raping Frankie, and perhaps others too.

“That shit don’t go down with me,” said Damien. “You need to stick up for yourself though. I can’t watch your back twenty-four-seven.”

Frankie was obviously fighting back tears now. “Why would you want to watch my back at all?”

Damien wasn’t quite sure, and tried to work out the answer by speaking about it. “I guess I just don’t want to be stuck with a moping sod of a roommate all year. Maybe I could do with a few favours on the outside, too. I help you in here, you help me out there.”

“Deal!”

Damien laughed. “I never made an offer; it was just a hypothesis. Still, like I said, you need to defend yourself.”

“How? Conner has too many friends in here. He even has the guards helping him.”

Damien’s eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Warden McMillan lets him get away with murder. In fact it was McMillan who first started...”

“You’re kidding me,” Damien couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “The Warden?”

Frankie nodded. “He comes in here at night sometimes.”

“What the f*ck, man. That is messed up. I expect that kind of behaviour from a bunch of caged animals, but he’s a bloody adult with a life on the outside. There’s no excuse.”

“I think he’s a queer or something. Conner sorts stuff out fro him on the inside and McMillan uses him to keep people quiet about his...nightly visits.”