I awoke on the Monday morning still unsettled from the previous day’s events. This new priest worried me. He was only one man, but coupled with Hammond’s own apparent immunity this was a risk I did not need. I would have to change my plan slightly, Hammond would have to be dealt with immediately. This very day in fact. It would mean losing a few prisoners to the block, but getting Hammond out of the way for good would be worth it.
I pondered on the best approach. I needed enough prisoners to make the attack overwhelming. That meant either at mealtime or during association. Association would be the time to do it, I could distract the other guards while some of my implanted prisoners did the deed. Doing it in association would mean that my dinner would not be disturbed.
As for the friar, without Hammond there and with all the other guards and prisoners already subsumed he could be dealt easily. With the prison take over starting from the chapel on Sunday morning he would be right in the thick of it, if it offered any trouble then I’d kill him quickly. Otherwise we could take our time with him.
These thoughts cheered me up a little and I actually enjoyed breakfast, despite the lumpy porridge. While being processed for transportation I considered the day ahead. It was time to step things up a notch. I’d sabotaged the witnesses already, but a sure way to get a mistrial would be through the judge and the jurors. I’d always planned to leave the judge until last and I saw no reason to change that, so for today it would be the jurors. I’d have a bit of fun and then sent back down to the cells.
I wonder how long they’d keep going if a juror died each day?
I was definitely in a good mood by the time we arrived at the courthouse. Even the weather had cleared up, allowing some winter sunshine into the cramped cubicle. I was also provided with an old newspaper and a cup of tea while I waited to be summoned. Time dragged on, the poor night’s sleep didn’t help. I was actually feeling quite sleepy when the cell door finally opened. Escorted between the two guards I was taken upstairs into the courtroom.
Something is not right.
I look around the court and it is empty. There are no jurors sat waiting for the proceedings to begin. In front of me there are no lawyers and their assistants. I look behind me, the public gallery is empty too.
I feel a little nauseous.
The only people in the room are the two guards flanking me and the two police officers by the door.
I suddenly realise that I’m feeling drowsy again. And sick in my stomach.
The tea! They put something in my tea.
I surged inside myself, manipulating triggers within my own brain. Seeking anything to counter the sudden tiredness that threatened to overwhelm me.
The judge entered the room. He is not the same judge as before. Cold eyes staring at me. The door between the police officers opens and more officers enter the room. I’m still frantically forcing my mind to ignore the siren call of whatever they put in my drink. I can feel my balance slipping.
The judge speaks, his voice seems to come from the far end of a long tunnel. I’m finding it hard to concentrate. The trial is over, he says, a mistrial has been declared. The jurors have been released from their service.
I’m still struggling inside, I can feel hands grip each of my arms. I split my concentration and cast my mind at the judge I just rebound off him, with a sinking feeling I try again. Once more I bounce
Finally I have some success against the drug inside me, my mind clears a little. The judge has continued speaking. Evidence in secret session of my association with known terrorists has come to light. I am being detained under the prevention of terrorism act. An application for my extradition has already been submitted and approved under emergency powers.
The police are closer, moving much too quickly, the guards are taking a firmer hold. With an effort I break free of their grip. Jabbing to one side I strike a glancing blow to one guard’s neck. Spinning I tackle the other lashing out with my mind as well as my fist. This one has no defence against me, he doesn’t even have time to cry out before collapsing to the floor.
I’m shaking the fog from me still as I turn again, this time stomping on the other guard who has started to rise. I cast my mind towards the policeman charging towards. There’s too many to take down at once, but two of them stagger, clutching their heads. The others keep coming and they’re too close. I block the baton strike of one and there is a burning in my side. I stumble.
Another tazer discharges into my side and I fall. A baton strikes against my neck as another burn blossoms. A scuffed boot is the last thing I see.
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