On Tue, 28 Jan 97, a.p.williamson wrote:

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Hi All,

Chapter 23 of the RR for your delectation or otherwise......

Andrew

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Chapter 23

Saturday 19th November 1983
01:37hrs  Reception Area, Wentworth Detention Centre

Dennis entered the reception area first, critically aware of Myra Desmond
waiting in the shadows slightly behind him, the .45 trained on him.
Reception was dimly lit, and unmanned.  Dennis realised that Cynthia Leach
should have been on duty here around now.  Indeed, he had been on his way
to check on the overdue Leach when he had run into events in the armoury.
  "It's clear." he announced quietly, not bothered with concealing the
bitterness - or the fear - in his voice.  Myra followed him into
reception, with Reb Keane close behind.  Dennis noted that Keane was
limping slightly and seemed to be suffering pain from her recently injured
leg.  Still she held her revolver with an air of authority.  Dennis dimly
remembered that several weeks previously he had stopped to ponder what
went on in Reb Keane's mind.  Even in the short time that had passed since
then, Keane had become vastly more imponderable than ever.  Myra had moved
to check the entrance for any sign of gate guards.  Surprisingly the
gunfire in the armoury seemed to have gone unnoticed, sufficiently far
away from the cell blocks not to bring officers running.
  "Alright," said Myra, "Let's get the hell out of here.  Where are you
parked?"
  "On the other side of the fence.  There's no way you can get out there
  without being seen."
  "Watch us," she motioned towards the door, "just you walk out towards
  the gate nice and calm.  Don't even think of shouting for help.  I've
killed one screw tonight.." She left the threat hanging.
  "Look, this is stupid Myra.  You're only making things worse" implored
  Dennis.
  "It's too late screw,"interjected Reb, "We've got nothing to lose
anymore."

01:41hrs

Officer Pat Slattery sniffed the air as she entered the admin block.
An odour hung in the air, vaguely familiar to her.  Even as her mind
tried to place the smell, she turned the corner leading to the
armoury, and the answer came all too suddenly to her mind.  

01:42hrs

Dennis was surprised he had got as close to the gate as he had.  He was
vaguely aware of Reb and Myra skirting along close to the building.  He
had no idea if either woman had the will, let alone the ability, to shoot
him down in cold blood, but the memory of Cynthia Leach's body did not
encourage him to gamble.  Bob, the guard on duty, saw him approaching
and left his booth to meet with the officer.
  "Evening Dennis.  Something wrong?"
  Dennis judged that in the still conditions he was probably still within
earshot of the two prisoners.
  "Bit of a sore head mate.  Just getting some asprin from the car.  Let
us out eh."
  Bob unlocked the gate, letting Dennis through and following him over
to his car.  He watched as Dennis fumbled for his car keys, hearing too
late the sound of footsteps behind him.  He barely had time to turn around
before the butt of Reb Keanes pistol sent him spinning into
unconsciousness.
  Dennis looked down at his comatose colleague as Keane relieved both men
of their keys and wallets.
  "So what now?" asked Dennis, his bitterness at his own actions clear
in his voice.
  "Time we were leaving," replied Myra.  "Down on the ground."  Dennis
complied, letting Myra snap handcuffs taken from the armoury onto his
wrists.  He was aware of Keane starting the engine of his car, aware of
what was coming next.
  "Sorry." Said Myra as she smashed Dennis into unconsciousness. Behind
her she heard the shrill tones of the escape alarm, and knew that their
work had been discovered.

03:14 hrs  Armoury, Wentworth Detention Centre

Detective Inspector Grace pulled the sheet back over the body of Cynthia
Leach and stood up, pondering why so much of his professional life seemed
to revolve around Wentworth Detention Centre.  A couple of other officers
were moving their way around the armoury, collecting evidence of
what had gone on in the room.  He rubbed his eyes which were heavy with
abruptly terminated sleep.  What he wouldn't give to still be in bed
right now...The body of the prisoner, McFadden, was close by.  He dimly
remembered seeing her at the station fairly recently, but could not quite
place the offence....drugs maybe.  From the direction of the cell blocks
he could hear womens voices shouting questions, their confusion evident.
It had been established that the prisoners Keane and Desmond were missing,
along with an officers car and a couple of revolvers.  An APB was out on
the vehicle already, but Grace had the distinct feeling that this case
was going to be so easily wrapped up.  Another officer approached the
armoury.
  "Inspector Grace.  The governor will see you now."

03:17hrs  

The door of the squat was old and rotten, giving way easily when Myra
put her shoulder to it.  She entered cautiously, making sure the place
was as deserted as it looked.  The air smelt stale, indicating that they
were in luck.  Opening the door immediately inside the door she stepped
inside.  She clicked on the battery torch she had found in the glove box
of Cruickshanks car during the trip into the city, illuminating the room.
It was of a similar size to her cell at Wentworth.  The single window was
boarded up, lacking glass.  Conscious of attracting attention, she
clicked off the torch, relying on the little illumination that spilled in
from streetlights.  She had chosen a door as out of sight from the
street as possible, but was under no illusions that this could be a
permanent hideout - the cops would get round to checking places like this
all too soon.  The whole escape had gone so badly wrong.  Another two
people were dead.  Myra would shed few tears for Cynthia Leach, but Lynn
McFadden had put herself on the line for them.  She had never intended
for anyone to get badly hurt in the escape - the plan had been for Leach
to play the role which Cruickshank ultimately had - she bitterly
regretted having to hit Dennis, someone she considered to be a good
officer, but needs must...They had dumped the car a couple of miles away,
leaving the keys in the ignition in a neighbourhood where, as Reb had
assured her, it was almost certain to be stolen before the cops had a
chance to find it.
  "I thought Wentworth was bad." Keane had entered the squat, wrinkling
  her nose in disgust at the smell which pervaded the room.
  "It won't be for long," replied Myra, "we just need somewhere to lay
low, take some time to think."
  "Didn't go that well, did it?"  Beyond the barest directions, the two
had barely spoken since leaving Wentworth behind."
  Myra nodded.  "Never does.  If it had we'd have been able to lay low
for a few days until the heat had died down.  As it is now, we'll be
wanted for the murder of a screw.  Come tomorrow morning our faces'll be
on the front of every newspaper in the state."  She could see that Reb
had come to the same conclusions.
  "So what now?" asked Keane.
  "We have some decisions to make.  Try and track down those murdering
scum and more than likely finish up back in Wentworth, or worse..."
  "I ain't goin' back to that dump"
  "....or we try and get out of the country.  Let go of the past and go
  on living.  You're so young, you could still have a good life.  I know
what I'm going to do.  It's up to you how you carry on"
  Reb looked indecisive, the prospect of freedom tempting her.  "What
  about you?" she asked, suspecting the answer.
  Myra answered coldly.  "I've lost everything I ever lived for.  Even
if it costs me my life, I'm going after Simpkins"

03:19hrs  Governors Office, Wentworth Detention Centre

Anne Reynolds had answered the phone at home some 90 minutes earlier
with the feeling of impending trouble which such calls always produced.
She had taken little time in getting herself to the prison, any weariness
she had felt at being roused from sleep dissipated by the adrenalin of
proximate tragedy.  By the time she had reached Wentworth it had been
confirmed that Leach and McFadden were dead, and the recovering Dennis
Cruickshank had affirmed that Keane and Desmond had escaped.  She was
acutely aware of the implications for her own position of these events -
particularly so soon after the Stevens tragedy.  Indeed, Dwyer was on his
way to the prison at this very minute.  Even with the documents she had
used to manipulate the Minister the last time her job had been
threatened, she knew she could not possibly hope to avoid action this
time.  All she could hope for was damage limitation.  In the desk of her
drawer sat the letter from the Department offering her the place on the
select committee.  Was there more to the offer than met the eye.  It was
with a contemptible familiarity that she greeted Grace.  The detective
wasted no time.
  "Another triumph for prison reform Mrs.Reynolds."
  Anne could find no reply, instead opting for a question.  "Has any
more information come to light?"
  "Best guess is that Miss Leach went into McFaddens cell and taken
hostage.  The knife that killed her was prison standard.  Can you suggest
why she would have gone to the cell."
  "It could be any number of reasons.  There were...allegations...made
against her in a previous position of assaults on prisoners but nothing
was ever proved."
  Grace nodded.  "Anyway, Cruickshank confirms that it was Leach who
shot McFadden, and that McFadden fired the shots that hit Leach.  It was
Desmond who stabbed Leach."
  "Stupid....any sign of them?"
  "Nothing yet.  They'd do well to give themselves up though.  Two people
are dead already, and my officers aren't going to take nay chances on
being number 3."
  There was a knock at the door, and Pat Slattery announced that Judy
Bryant was outside.  The prisoner was shown in, still in her nightwear
and wrapped in an aging dressing gown.
  "You're aware what has happened?" asked Anne.
  Judy nodded.  "I take it you knew about their plans?" she continued.
  "You don't really expect me to lag do you?" replied Judy.
  "I want an answer damnit," There was real anger in Anne's voice.  
  "Alright, I knew she was thinking about escaping, but I swear I never
knew the details."
  "Judy, much as it pains me, I don't believe you.  You are Myra Desmonds
closest friend in this prison.  Now, I will lay it on the line to you.
Myra and Reb are in real danger if they do not give themselves up.  If
you care for either of them at all, then please tell us anything you
know.  Do you have any idea where they've gone?"
  "I'm sorry Mrs.Reynolds, but I can't help you."
  "Very well.  On your head be it.  Take her back Mrs.Slattery."
    After the prisoner had gone, Anne turned to Grace who had remained
  silent throughout the exchanges.
  "What do you think?" he asked.
  "I think she knows more than she's saying, but you and I both know
we'll get nothing out of the prisoners."  
  Grace shook his head sadly.  "I'm wasting my time here.  I'll be in
touch if there's any news."
Grace left the office, just seconds before Slattery returned to announce
the arrival of the Minister.
  "Into the fire" said Anne to herself.  

03:36hrs Wentworth

Dennis Cruickshank had a splitting headache.  He had regained
consciousness in the sickbay at Wentworth, rapidly putting the events
of the previous hours into coherent order.  The police had taken his
statement and left him.  Across the room, Bob lay sleeping, having
recovered shortly after Dennis.  He was surprised by a knock on the
door, and the entrance of Heather Rogers.
  "'ey up love.  They caught you at last then?"
  "Very funny.  I came as soon as they called."
  "Aye, a bad business.  Reckon I got off light."
  Heather nodded.  "Pat told me the full story."  
  "Have you seen the governor?"
  "No, but I did see Dwyer on his way in to see her.  He looked like he
  meant business."
  Dennis sighed.  "God help us all."

03:39hrs Wentworth

  "You can't be serious!"  Anne was out of her seat, shouting at the
Minister.
  "I assure you Mrs.Reynolds, I am perfectly serious.  Regardless of
any....arrangements we have had in the past regarding your position, I
can no longer tolerate the status quo at Wentworth.  Tomorrow morning a
departmental crisis squad will arrive at Wentworth to assume
responsiblity for security matters.  You will remain in charge of
administration, for the time being until we see how the situation
develops."
  "That's intolerable, I'll...."
  "Resign? Feel free Mrs.Reynolds.  It'll save me the trouble of
justifying your continued employment"
  "What your proposing will destroy any credibility I have within this
prison, and I will not stand for it!"
  "There is another option Mrs.Reynolds."
  Anne nodded.  She had anticipated this.  "You mean go and sit on the
select committee and discuss prison reform, while you employ strong arm
tactics in Wentworth?  What kind of hypocrite does that make me?"
  Dwyer smiled.  "It's the best offer you're going to get."  He stood to
leave, "Your choice of course."
  "You set this up didn't you.  I thought I detected your fingerprints
on that job offer."
  "Let's just say, the possibility of your being out of Wentworth is not
one that worries me.  Don't take too long thinking about the offer
though.  You never know when a better candidate will come along."  He
smiled again, and Anne saw victory in his eyes.

05:17hrs

Reb's mind was a whirl of confusion.  The options Myra had outlined to
her throwing up two such stark choices.  Could she really run away,
forget about taking revenge for Deirdrie.  Did she owe her mother so
little loyalty?  She knew that to continue her hunt for revenge probably
meant years more in Wentworth at the least, so much more tempting to
slip away overseas, start a new life for herself.  Her mind slipped back
to a handshake that seemed so long ago....a promise to look to the
future.  Was the future worth sacrficing the past?  Twenty years from
now when she looked in a mirror and saw Deirdrie Keane looking back at
her, would her betrayal have been worth it?  She heard Myra enter the
room behind her, turned to meet her.  She knew, even before Myra put
it into words, the question forming on the older womans lips.
  "Alright Reb.  What's it gonna be?"

He used to bring me roses.....

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