stopped outside enormous gates and Vermeulen was led round to the main entrance. The sign said ‘Wormwood Scrubs’ and Vermeulen recognised the prison from the bus. He lived just two or three miles from here and for a while he had a job in the hospital next door. A small side gate half opened and the tall Englishman walked ahead of them and his long gait meant that the guards had to hurry Vermeulen along to keep up.
They stopped at a guardhouse, where forms were quickly exchanged, quiet words spoken and shackles attached to his feet. They continued their progress through the prison, accompanied now by two armed guards in front and two more behind, as far as he could make out. He was able to walk in the shackles, but not without considerable noise and some discomfort as they chaffed against the rough material of his trousers. Down a long corridor with barred windows along one side, through a double set of locked doors and into an enormous room, which felt like an empty factory but in the gloom Vermeulen could make out no distinguishing features, although there appeared to be some large machinery against a far wall. The small group marched across the rough concrete floor to the centre of room, their footsteps and Vermeulen’s chains echoing against the distant walls. As they reached the centre, the tall Englishman turned abruptly and walked towards the Belgian.
He had a pistol in his right hand, which he slowly raised, holding the barrel against Vermeulen’s temple. The Belgian struggled, but the two guards had little trouble in holding him steady.
‘You are of no use to us now, Vermeulen. The truth is that we do not trust you. You have reached the end of the road.’
There was silence in the room, broken only by Vermeulen’s panicked breathing and the echoing sound of the safety catch being released. The Englishman waited. The Belgian’s eyes were wide open, as was his mouth. No sound came out. Vermeulen slumped to the floor.
The Englishman circled the body, prodding it once with his shoe before turning to the guards.
‘Take him away.’
ooo000ooo
When Captain Edgar came to visit Arnold Vermeulen later that morning, he found the Belgian lying on the metal bed curled into a foetal position. When he saw Edgar enter the room he instinctively moved away from him, so that by the time the door shut he had forced himself into the back of the bed, against the corner of the two walls. They were alone.
‘Please relax, Vermeulen.’ The Englishman spoke in a quiet voice, but Vermeulen had no trouble hearing it.
‘Didn’t quite go to plan before, sorry about that.’ He gave the impression of not being very sorry at all. He drew up a chair close to the bed, very close to Vermeulen. The Belgian was unable to get any further away from Edgar. ‘Plan was to pull the trigger, you would just hear an empty click and realise that the pistol was not loaded. I would then tell you this is what would happen to you if you did not do exactly as we ask of you. Any tricks, anything less than total co-operation and that would be your fate. Except, of course, next time the pistol would be loaded. Only thing, we didn’t count on you fainting down there, which is why I am making this little speech now.’
Vermeulen nodded eagerly.
‘I just wanted you to realise quite how serious we are. You told us on Wednesday that you have met Magpie once. So she knows who you are. That means that without you, we cannot get to Magpie. So you are working for us now. And that means no tricks, no using the secret warning signals that you no doubt have agreed, nothing clever. When you start your transmissions, you do it by the book. If you use any device like a warning word to let them know that you’ve been turned, we will find out. Just do everything that we ask of you. If you don’t, you now know exactly what the consequences will be.’
The Englishman stood up, looking around the room as he did so. ‘Bit grim in here. This is where you were
They stopped at a guardhouse, where forms were quickly exchanged, quiet words spoken and shackles attached to his feet. They continued their progress through the prison, accompanied now by two armed guards in front and two more behind, as far as he could make out. He was able to walk in the shackles, but not without considerable noise and some discomfort as they chaffed against the rough material of his trousers. Down a long corridor with barred windows along one side, through a double set of locked doors and into an enormous room, which felt like an empty factory but in the gloom Vermeulen could make out no distinguishing features, although there appeared to be some large machinery against a far wall. The small group marched across the rough concrete floor to the centre of room, their footsteps and Vermeulen’s chains echoing against the distant walls. As they reached the centre, the tall Englishman turned abruptly and walked towards the Belgian.
He had a pistol in his right hand, which he slowly raised, holding the barrel against Vermeulen’s temple. The Belgian struggled, but the two guards had little trouble in holding him steady.
‘You are of no use to us now, Vermeulen. The truth is that we do not trust you. You have reached the end of the road.’
There was silence in the room, broken only by Vermeulen’s panicked breathing and the echoing sound of the safety catch being released. The Englishman waited. The Belgian’s eyes were wide open, as was his mouth. No sound came out. Vermeulen slumped to the floor.
The Englishman circled the body, prodding it once with his shoe before turning to the guards.
‘Take him away.’
ooo000ooo
When Captain Edgar came to visit Arnold Vermeulen later that morning, he found the Belgian lying on the metal bed curled into a foetal position. When he saw Edgar enter the room he instinctively moved away from him, so that by the time the door shut he had forced himself into the back of the bed, against the corner of the two walls. They were alone.
‘Please relax, Vermeulen.’ The Englishman spoke in a quiet voice, but Vermeulen had no trouble hearing it.
‘Didn’t quite go to plan before, sorry about that.’ He gave the impression of not being very sorry at all. He drew up a chair close to the bed, very close to Vermeulen. The Belgian was unable to get any further away from Edgar. ‘Plan was to pull the trigger, you would just hear an empty click and realise that the pistol was not loaded. I would then tell you this is what would happen to you if you did not do exactly as we ask of you. Any tricks, anything less than total co-operation and that would be your fate. Except, of course, next time the pistol would be loaded. Only thing, we didn’t count on you fainting down there, which is why I am making this little speech now.’
Vermeulen nodded eagerly.
‘I just wanted you to realise quite how serious we are. You told us on Wednesday that you have met Magpie once. So she knows who you are. That means that without you, we cannot get to Magpie. So you are working for us now. And that means no tricks, no using the secret warning signals that you no doubt have agreed, nothing clever. When you start your transmissions, you do it by the book. If you use any device like a warning word to let them know that you’ve been turned, we will find out. Just do everything that we ask of you. If you don’t, you now know exactly what the consequences will be.’
The Englishman stood up, looking around the room as he did so. ‘Bit grim in here. This is where you were
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