by Arnie
Licking his lips and wiping his hands on his suit jacket, Goniff took a seat and smiled eagerly at the parole board. The hard looks they were giving him made his smile falter, and he glanced down at his hands.
His hands.
They were what stood between him and the price tag demanded by another inmate's protection. His magic hands that could slide a mark's watch, key, money...whatever you wanted...from his pocket with no one the wiser. Masterson had realised the potential young Rodney had had and offered him a place in that protected circle. The price being that he stole for Masterson - and only for Masterson. Goniff's survival instinct had meant that he'd said yes, and quickly before the offer was withdrawn. He hadn't had cause to regret it...yet.
But Masterson's next 'assignment' for him - stealing from the Governor? While Goniff was sure he could do it - best pickpocket in London, he'd been! - he wasn't sure he wanted to do it. His mind toyed with the possibility of a set up by Masterson as he answered the parole board's questions, his face shining with innocence. Finally his ordeal was over and he was dismissed to sit outside as the parole board considered his case.
Sinking back into his chair, he wiped his sweaty hands on his jacket again. Nervous, that's what he was, and he had cause to be. If he got caught stealing from the Governor of the prison, solitary would be the least of his problems. In fact, solitary for the rest of his prison life would be the best he could hope for. And that wasn't exactly likely. If Masterson had set him up to fail on purpose, Goniff couldn't see the point. But then, Masterson hadn't had a point when he'd thrown Rizzo to the wolves - and Rizzo's fate was one that no one envied. Denied protection from any inmate, under Masterson's orders, Rizzo had finally killed himself to escape from his hell. And Goniff didn't blame him in the slightest.
Hastily, he glanced around for something to distract himself with. He really didn't want to dwell on the possibilities his future held right now. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the door swing open again. They couldn't have finished thinking it over already, could they?
"Lieutenant, we're quite capable -"
"I'm telling you. You let this man out, and you'll be making a mistake and should be in prison yourselves for gross incompetence."
The door swung shut behind the soldier and Goniff watched him settle his cap on his head before leaving through the main door. The glimpse of freedom caught at Goniff's breath and he wished, with all his heart, that he was free to walk out of that door. No matter what the price tag was for freedom, he'd pay it. His mind was jerked back to his current situation by the sound of his name being called, and he went back into the room with his heart in his boots. He just knew the soldier, the lieutenant, had been referring to him.
An hour later and Goniff was back in his cell and back in his prison uniform. Parole denied. He cursed to himself before considering his options, then his shoulders slumped as he realised he was out of options. He was going to have to steal from the Governor and hope...pray...that he didn't get caught.
A bang on the door got his attention. "Come along, Rodney. The Governor wants to see you."
His heart almost stopped beating at that point. They couldn't know already, could they? Hurriedly stumbling after the prison warder, he followed him down the walkway and towards the offices, his stomach churning with nervousness.
Once there, he was surprised to see the lieutenant he'd seen before. Indignation rose up in him. "'Ere! That's the bloke what scuppered me parole!" he exclaimed, unthinkingly.
The look in the Governor's eyes was glacial, but the lieutenant didn't seem to mind, judging by the amused look on his face. "Sit down, Rodney. Thank you, Governor."
Annoyed and showing it, the Governor left his office. As the door shut behind him, with rather more force that was necessary, the lieutenant offered Goniff a cigarette.
"You're quite right, you know," the authoritative voice murmured, "I did scupper your parole. However, I can offer you the chance to get out of here."
Goniff lit his cigarette and pocketed the matches as a matter of course. Aiming for a show of bravado, he shrugged slightly. "How's that then?"
"It's quite simple. Come work for the Army."
Goniff looked up. The hazel eyes that met his were serious, and determined. If he said yes, he suspected he'd be getting himself into another dangerous situation, but if he said no, he still had Masterson to deal with. His survival instincts kicked in once more. If it was a choice of this lieutenant and Masterson, he'd trust his chances with this lieutenant any day of the week. "Okay." Short, sweet and to the point. And hopefully not filled with the desperation that was gnawing at his insides.
"Good. I'll get the paperwork sorted. You'd better change out of that uniform. I'm leaving in half an hour."
At the doorway, Goniff turned, curiosity prompting the question. "Where are we going?"
"We'll be stationed in England."
"Okay." He turned and followed the prison warder back to his cell. England was good. He liked England, although he now considered himself to be an American. England was far enough from Masterson though, and that was what counted.
The End
