Doing Time 2

I squint, eyes adjusting to the glare from the ceiling light. The sound of my cellmates voice is familiar but I’m confused, the face doesn’t fit the sound. I peer at him and think I can see traces of a face that I know, but I’m not sure so I keep staring, uncertain. The owner of this face hasn’t shaved for a long time. He has lost a chunk of hair on one side of his scalp and there is a large purple scar where it used to be. One eye is closed with fluid weeping from it; there is a deep red scar across his cheek. The nose has been broken more than once and seems to be just clinging to a face that has numerous other badly healed cuts. He holds his arms out, “you going to give me a hug” he says.

I’m confused. “Jack? Is that you Jack?” I shout above the wall of noise from the other prisoners, He nods and speaks, his voice raw as if ready to break. “I knew you’d come for me I’ve been waiting for you, waiting for you to come Luke, I knew you’d come ”. I move forward and he grips my shoulders, pulls me in to a feeble hug, The stench from his body is powerful, I choke – pull away and gaze at him, I breathe, tears well up in my eyes, vision blurring. I want it to be Jack, my head is saying no, no, this can’t be him but my heart knows its Jack, my brother, Jack, I’ve been searching for him.

My brother, my big bear of a brother. Always my protector, the man with a huge heart, warm and compassionate with legendary strength has been reduced to this - a beaten, abused husk of the person he used to be. He’s obviously been tortured, battered and starved. I move back into his embrace and feel his bones under the scrawny body, hear his wheezing as he tries to talk some more to me. “Tell me your story Jack, Tell me what’s happened” I say.

Now that the guards have gone the noise around us has subsided. Some prisoners are still keening or wailing and a few continue to shout obscenities but the noise from the trays being dragged across the metal bars has stopped and we no longer have to shout to be heard. I try to block the stench from the open squat toilets, Jack sees me gag and passes me a filthy cloth to cover my nose, “you get used to it” he mumbles.

With the cloth pressed to my nose I sit on the stool and Jack sits on the bed. “Talk to me” I say, reach out and take his hand in mine, he winces and I realise some fingernails are gone. We stare at each other for a while, Jack has tears streaming down his face and he struggles for air. Then, with a low moan he closes his eyes, starts rocking and begins to talk, his voice is raspy and I strain to hear him.

“Remember the grand idea we had?” I nod, we were so happy. So confidant. The plan was for Jack to travel through African countries scouting for opportunities, ideas that we could use to expand our business, offering unique travel destinations, adventure tours, specialised exploration, the ultimate adrenalin buzz was what we were looking for. Jack’s Rugby playing days had made him a household name and with my legal experience in negotiating and marketing, we were convinced we couldn’t lose. Jack dropped his head into his hands, “You and I were going to get rich” he said, “We just needed to find the right opportunity.” Well, Luke he said, “I found it, I found our El Dorado”.

“But I wish I hadn’t”, his voice is cracking with emotion. “Its why I’m here”.

Jack positions his feet carefully on the floor before pushing his scrawny body further up on the narrow bed, he fails on the first attempt, waves me away and push’s down on his feet again. This time he lifts his body back further on the bed, bum shuffles and leans against the wall, sighs ... starts talking again.

“I’d been on the road for a month, looking and listening and getting a bit discouraged, so far there had been nothing I’d seen that stood out as a really special adventure, the ”Top Gun” adventure our client’s had asked for. I had been in Somalia for a week and after a day of relentless heat and grime needed a drink and some company so wandered into bar not far from the hotel I was staying in. The barman was a big happy Irishman named Shaun, business was slow so we chatted for a while. I told him why I was here and that I was looking for adventure that was “off the edge”, something that our young, wealthy clients would pay big money for.

Jack paused; talking was clearly painful for him. His chest rose and fell as he sat motionless against the wall. His eyes opened and he looked at me for a few moments before continuing.

What sort of adventure the barman had asked, The grittier the better I told him, there must be an element of danger, a chance to show off physical and mental strength and it’s essential there is a reward for winning. Some of them have been in the military, have survival skills and are familiar with guns. They were bored with the Safari treks and survivor type tours. This needed something much bigger than that. It had to be really special, maybe not even legal. The barman listened carefully as he dried the beer glass’s, then glanced over at 2 men talking quietly in a booth at the rear of the room and said “ If that’s what you really want then talk to Ivan and Zachariah over there, tell them I sent you over and what your looking for. He suggested I bought some beer and snacks for them to ease the introduction

Jack closed his eyes and squeezed some pain away from his face. His breathing was shallow and slow – he face pale. I waited for him to start talking again.

“So I ordered three beers and a bowl of banana and rice, the local delicacy in Mogadishu, then wandered over to their table, told them I was looking for adventure and that the barman had suggested I talk to them. One had looked over at Shaun, acknowledged the nod from him while the other kept his eyes on me, appraising me. We exchanged names and shook hands and sat a while till the beer and snack bowl arrived. They were both big muscular men with shaven heads, tattooed arms and necks. Zachariah seemed to be the alpha and asked me to expand on what it was I was looking for and what my clients really wanted. I told him they were looking for real adventures, where a man could use his strength and cunning to beat the odds. I told them these were mainly ex military men who had survival skills they wanted to use and were willing to pay for the action.”

Zachariah glanced at Ivan , they exchanged a nod, he looked back at me and smiled, “ I think we can help you” he said.