I stared at him from the comfort of my chair "You know he hasn't."
"I see his cottage has been made ready for him. A real home from home."
"It maybe a comfortable cottage, fitted with all mod cons. But at the end of the day, it's still a cell!"
"The helicopter isn't due for another two hours" the Supervisor said checking his watch for the umpteenth time "he'll be on it of course."
"There will be hell to pay if he isn't" I said.
"I expect he'll get the same treatment as everybody else here."
"I expect so."
"He won't like that. You know how he puts his own self importance above everyone everyone else."
"Then we'll have to bring him down a peg, won't we?"
"If you say so" the Supervisor replied, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.
"I do."
The helicopter did arrive, two hours later, and it's unsconscious passenger carried out and laid on a stretcher, which was then placed in a Red Cross trailor, and towed behind a Village Taxi, and taken to a certain cottage in the Village.
Oh my head....that was one hell of a party last night. Wonder how I made it home? The man staggered to his feet, went into the kitchen and holding his head under the cold tap let the cold refreshing water run through his hair. He picked up a tea towel and dried his face, turing his attention to the telephone. He picked up the receiver and a charming female voice asked "Number please."
"Park Lane 3472."
"Where?" the Operator asked.
"Park Lane 3472" the man repeated.
"Where's Park lane?"
"It's in London, next thing you'll be asking me where London is!"
"I'm sorry sir, but I cannot connect you."
"Why not?"
"I can only make local connections."
"But Park Lane is local, well fairly local. What exchange is this?"
The telephone went dead. He tried to get the Operator again, with no success. He walked across the room, to a window, drew back the curtain, and there is was, well it wasn't London!
The telephone began to bleep somewhat impatiently, No.2 picked it up. "Yes sir. No, it went very smoothly......he arrived an hour ago.......no sir, he's been allowed to go out and explore his new surroundings, he's very confused which is not unusual.......I'll invite him over for some supper later on, I'll de-brief and brief him then.........Yes I kinow he could be difficult......yes sir, I realise that he will have to be handled very differently."
Suddenly the pair of steel door opened and the Supervisor came rushing into No.2's office. "It's not him!"
"Who isn't?"
"The Prisoner Number Nine, it's not him! I've had him under surveillance ever since his arrival here, and it's not him!"
"You could have saved time by using the telephone."
"I was in a panic, I am in a panic, and soon you'll be in a panic!"
"The Prisoner, Where is he now?"
"In his cottage, where else can he go?"
No.2 pressed a button on his desk and the wall screen came to life showing the interior of the cottage 9 Private. Inside a man was making himself a cup of tea. No.2 pressed another button and the camera zoomed in on the man in the kitchen.
"See, it's not him!"
"Well I can see that for myself. Who is he?"
"How should I know?"
"Has anyone spoken to him?"
"The telephone Operator, a waitress at the Cafe, and a window cleaner."
"So just you and me know he's the wrong man?"
"Yes. What are we going to do about him?"
"Nothing!"
"Nothing?! There's going to be hell to pay for this."
"Not if we keep our nerve."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you ever heard of the story "The Man In The Iron Mask?"
"Of course, by Aleandre Dumas, about to identical brothers........"
No.2 picked up an 'L' shaped telephone "Number 246...that's right, the Blacksmith!"
The man struggled, oh how he struggled. His screams ringing out...."Why, why are you doing this to me? Where am I? Why have I been brought here? What's that, it's made of iron...you can't possible be going to.......God no, please God, don't do this.....you've got the wrong man.....!
"Yes, I know" said No.2 "That's why we're doing this!"
"My name is Curtis......"
The iron mask was fitted, red hot iron rivets were hammered in to seal the mask, and the Balcksmith sworn to secrecy under pain of death.
"If this ever gets out......." said the Supervisor.
"It better hadn't. For both our sakes, other wise we'll be changing places with the Prisoner in the iron mask!"
"Who do you think he is?"
"I didn't ask!"
"He said his name was Curtis."
"Why do you think they sent him here?"
"I don't know. But he's here now, and here he'll stay."
"You should question him."
"What give him some friendly persuasion you mean?"
The Supervisor looked at the forlorn figure spawled on the floor "I'd give it a day or so, let him settle down to his new surroundings. Your idea of a cell in the Bastille is a good idea."
Number 2 smiled "Yes, I do have some good ideas don't I."
A man sprawled on a stone slab floor. There was a bed in the corner, a table and chair, and a bucket. The mans head felt heavy, he touched it, the iron was cold, the man screamed, and screamed again......why...why....why?!"
Be seeing you
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