Jeb’s face was pale, but his voice had regained its edge. ‘Think you’ll go fast enough?’
Magnus nodded. ‘If there’s one thing island boys can do, it’s drive fast.’
He would have preferred to have been dressed in a prison guard’s uniform, but going back into the building to find one would take too much time and stripping the screw’s decaying body was out of the question. Magnus steered the van from its parking space. The cab smelled foul, but he kept its windows closed, even though he doubted that its glass was bullet proof. He glanced at Jeb. ‘Do you think the guy I hit with the fire extinguisher is dead?’
Jeb’s knees were folded tight, as if he were bracing himself for impact.‘Concentrate on getting us through the gate.’
‘I think maybe I killed him.’
‘Why would that bother you?’ Jeb took the penknife from his pocket and rolled it between his palms. Magnus remembered how the point of its blade had pierced an inmate’s neck, the arc of blood fountaining from the wound. Jeb said, ‘He was a piece of scum. He would have killed you, killed both of us, without blinking.’
‘Doesn’t it bother you?’ It was a question Magnus would not have dared to broach before, but the closed-in silence of the cab and the waiting troops made it seem imperative.
Jeb pressed the point of the penknife against the palm of his hand, testing the sharpness of the blade or the elasticity of his skin.
‘There’s no point in thinking about it.’
They were crossing the forecourt now and the soldiers had seen the van. Their eyes were on the vehicle, their guns resting in their arms. Magnus drove slowly, hoping the van’s insignia would make them think it was on official business. He felt the pure calm that always washed over him as he stepped on stage and into the spotlight, the fear that clenched his bowels before performances banished in the knowledge that, for good or for bad, it would all be over soon.
Jeb hissed, ‘Speed up.’
One of the soldiers, a young man with fair skin and red hair, stepped forward. He held up his right palm. Magnus slowed the van and held up a hand in greeting. ‘Smile, don’t let them see you’re nervous.’
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Jeb spoke through clenched teeth. His mouth was stretched into an expression that was more grimace than grin. ‘Put your foot down.’
‘Don’t worry.’
Magnus nodded at the soldier, one foot on the accelerator, the other on the clutch, keeping the van slow until they were almost at the main gate. At the last minute he pressed a hand to the horn and floored the accelerator. The van was slower to gain speed than he had expected and for one horrible moment he thought that Jeb was right, he had left it too late. Then he saw the soldiers diving out of the van’s path. He scraped the driver’s door against the gatepost, knocking its wing mirror off. Then they were out of Pentonville and into the streets beyond. Magnus turned the van left and let out a roar. He kept his foot to the floor, going as fast as he dared along the city street. Jeb squinted into the passenger-side wing mirror, looking to see if they were being pursued.
‘Anyone coming?’ Magnus asked.
‘Not so far.’
‘Stupid fucking squaddies, lock the gate if you want to keep folk inside.’
Magnus slammed his hands against the steering wheel, drumming out a victory tattoo, light-headed with the buzz of escape and freedom.
‘They were waiting on someone. That’s the only reason they’d have kept the gate open.’
It was as if Jeb’s words summoned the convoy. Two tanks flanked by soldiers turned out of a side street and drove towards them.
‘Oh shit.’ Magnus hit the brakes and slammed the steering wheel again, this time in frustration.
‘Keep calm.’ Jeb gripped Magnus’s arm. His fingers dug into the flesh, forcing him to pay attention. ‘They’re heading to the prison, not away from it. They might not know about us yet.’ He pointed to a side road. ‘Turn first right.’
Magnus did as he was told. He was still going too fast and the van swerved on to the wrong side of the road as he rounded the corner, but the street was deserted.
‘Okay,’ Jeb said, looking at the road behind them in the wing mirror. ‘Turn left at the end.’
Magnus obeyed him, taking the corner with more care this time.
He asked, ‘Are they behind us?’
‘No, I think we struck lucky. It looks like they weren’t interested in us. The squaddies at the gate mustn’t have radioed ahead.’
Magnus wondered if there were more bodies in the back of the van, prisoners who had never made it to their cells rolling from side to side, like slaves in the hold of a transport ship, each time he swung around a corner. That could have been his fate, locked in with men suffering from the sweats, watching them die one by one, and all the time being cooked alive inside the metal box.
‘Keep going.’ Jeb rolled his window down. Perhaps he was also wondering about the contents of the van, because he said, ‘We’ll ditch this fucking coffin asap.’
Magnus had grown used to the smell of decay inside the cab, but the fresh air blowing in through the passenger window was a relief. He opened the window on his side too and a breeze sprang in, ruffling his hair. They were alive.
Fourteen
It was only when he saw an old woman edging her way along the pavement with the aid of a Zimmer frame that Magnus realised what was wrong with the world beyond the van’s windows. The streets were too quiet for a sunny London afternoon. He said, ‘It’s too quiet.’
‘Not quiet enough.’ Jeb had been monitoring the road behind them in the wing mirror. ‘There’s a truck behind us.’
‘An army truck?’
‘No, a VW camper van full of page-three girls.’
Magnus put his foot to the accelerator. The streets were too small for the cumbersome vehicle and it was an effort to keep it on the road.
‘I thought you said you could drive.’
‘Lewis Hamilton couldn’t steer this thing any faster,’ Magnus said.
You are in a controlled zone, an amplified voice announced. Pull over and exit your vehicle.
Jeb said, ‘Keep going.’
Magnus glanced at the knife in Jeb’s hand and wondered if it would go to his own throat should he slow the prison van.
You are in contravention of martial law. The amplified voice was calm. Pull over and exit your vehicle or we will shoot.
There was a tight turn up ahead, an alleyway that they were never going to make. Magnus dropped down the gears. ‘I can stop and back up or we’ve got a choice between controlled crash and out-of-control crash.’
Jeb said, ‘Don’t fucking crash.’
‘Trust me.’
The knife hand twitched. ‘I don’t trust you.’
We are prepared to fire.
Magnus increased their speed.
This is your final warning. Preparing to fire in five… four…
He heard Jeb fastening his safety belt and wondered that he had not fastened it before.
… three… two…
‘Hold on!’ Magnus skewed the van across the road, hitting the mouth of the alley sideways, blocking it with the cab of the van. The windscreen cracked and stayed miraculously in place, but both side windows shattered, spraying the interior with glitters of flying glass. There was a second dunt and the inertia-reel seatbelt tightened across Magnus’s chest, as the truck pursuing them made contact with the rear of their van. The windscreen of the cab gave way and fell in on them in chunks.