The Prisoner - A New Arrival Chapter 5

 

New Village Transport

    It was a bright sunny day, not a cloud in the sky, and not a breath of wind disturbed the air. It was the perfect summer’s day in which to spend the day on the beach. No.2, and his assistant No.12, a man of medium height, dark hair, dressed in a light blue blazer with dark grey piping made their way from the back of the Georgian house, down the steps, through the pair of gates to the road. And began their walk through the village, with No.2 happy to greet citizens as they passed-by.
    “I don’t quite get it” No.12 said.
    “You don’t quite get it, what is it do not you get?”
    “Why we are walking sir, when we could so easily take a taxi.”
    “I like to walk through the village on occasion, to take it all in, besides exercise is good for one” No.2 explained.
    “And we are attending this thing because?”
    No.2 stopped “I am Number 2, Chairman of the village, and it is my public duty to put in an appearance.”
    They went on their way, passed the statue of Hercules, up the steps, through a pair of turquoise gates opposite the Town Hall, and left, down the hill towards the Old People’s Home.
    “It’s lucky the tide has remained out for the past three weeks” No.12 remarked.
    “Yes, almost a month of perfect conditions” No.2 replied adjusting the old college scarf wound about his neck and shoulders.
    “Otherwise the competition would have been a complete washout!”
    “That’s right Number 12, keep looking on the bright side!”
    There was quite a throng of citizens on the beach, some had taken advantage of the colourfully striped bathing tents scattered about the beach, now in bathing costumes sunbathing, or paddling in the gullies of water along the beach. There was a small group playing beach ball, others relaxing in deckchairs, and several stood admiring the display of sandcastles which had been carefully crafted specially for the competition. But whatever people chose to do, everyone was enjoying the day, even No.2’s diminutive butler was out for a stroll in black tails and bowler hat, carrying an open black and white striped umbrella. No.2 and his assistant having reached the quayside took the steps down onto the beach and made their way across the sand.

    “I have to say the standard is very high, don’t you agree Number 12?”
    “Yes indeed sir.”
    “You did not enter the competition?”
    “No sir, you keep me far too busy to take part in such frivolous

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activity!”
    “You can forget the sir, this afternoon we are off-duty. You may call me 2.”
    “Thank you sir, I mean 2. But we should never be off-duty; we must be always on our guard and alert at all times” Number 12 told his superior.
    “What for?”
    “I’m sorry 2?” 12 asked, not understanding.
    “What for, why do you think we have the Watch? After all what’s the point in the village if we cannot enjoy it. Look at them 12, citizens going about living their day to day lives, all happy and contented. Then we give them something like this, and they enjoy themselves all the more. Stand with me 12, look and take at it all in, breathe it in.”
    “You give them a sandcastle competition” 12 said with an air of scepticism.
    “Simple pleasures 12, simple pleasures, they have been preparing for this day for the past three weeks.”
    No.2 is a man who believes in the village, who loves it with a passion, yet perhaps hates it even more seeing as to why he was brought here in the first place!
   “Look 12, here come the judges” 2 announced proudly.
   Three citizens, two women in their fifties dressed in bright striped capes and trilby hats, and a middle aged man in straw boater and piped jacket, each carrying a clipboard made up three judges of the awards committee. They came walking across the beach towards the line of sandcastles, as each of the contestants stood proudly by their creations.

    Two watchmen ushered the citizens back a pace or three in order to give the three judges plenty of room.
    The first sandcastle by No.34 a beautifully crafted Green Dome, a large construction complete with balcony, balustrade, and pair of eagles which topped the arch.
    “It’s very good” No.42 said, and the first judge made a note on her clipboard.
    No.128 the second judge agreed.
    “I wonder” said No.67.

    “You wonder?” asked the first judge.
    “I wonder if the annex could have been added.”
    A look of disappointment crossed the face of No.34.
    “The annex” said No.128.
    “That’s where No.2’s butler lives” added 42.
    Both the second and third judges studied the Green Dome from all sides, making notes on their clipboards.
    “The lack of an annex doesn’t take anything away from the Dome.”
    “I agree” 42 said and wrote a note on her clipboard.
    The expression of disappointment was replaced by a large smile.
    “Shall we move on?” 42 suggested.

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    The next sandcastle was that of No.274’s.

    “This is No.247’s he’s called it the Georgian house” said the first judge.

    The judges made a careful study.

    “It’s rather good, nicely detailed” said the first judge.
    “Complete with steps and a pair of gates” added the second judge.
    “The Georgian house, a little unimaginative I would have said” remarked the third judge making a note on her clipboard which looked to be an X.
    “Its No.2’s residence” said the third judge to the second, who both made equal marks on their clipboards.
    Next up was No.71’s sandcastle of a castle!
    “How unoriginal is this?” asked the first judge.
    “It’s a sandcastle of a castle” said the second.
    “It’s the hospital” said the third “It’s very well detailed, look there’s an ambulance outside and a patient is being carried inside on a stretcher.”
    “Oh yes” said the second judge eagerly “and there are other patients sitting in deckchairs on the lawn.”
   All three judges then wrote a mark on their clipboards, said well done to 71 and moved on.
    “Now what have we here?” 42 asked the elderly man wearing a white naval cap.
    “It’s a representation of the raid on the dry dock at St Nazaire in Normandie” the ex-Admiral explained.

    Two lines of turrets and fortifications of a harbour had been constructed either side of a dry dock by a shallow gully of sea water. There were two towers protecting the mouth of the harbour.
    “Why the plastic boat?” one judge asked.
    “That represents the obsolete destroyer HMS Campbeltown” the ex-Admiral explained “which crossed the English Channel to the Atlantic coast of France and was rammed into the Normandie dock gates. The ship had been packed with delayed-action explosives, well-hidden within a steel and concrete case, which detonated later that day, putting the dock out of service.”
    “It’s very good” said No.128, and all three judges were in agreement.  
    Moving along the line the three judges were astonished to be confronted by No.106 and his sandcastle of a full-size vehicle.
    “What is it?” No.42 asked the man standing beside it.
    “It’s an Austin Mini-Moke” No.106 said proudly.
    “How long did it take you to build?” No.67 asked.
    “A week and a half” 105 told the judges.
    One of the judges decided to test out the vehicle and sat on the front passenger seat, she was impressed. So was No.2 and stepped forward to examine the Mini-Moke sandcastle for himself.  

    “Look said” No.128 “There’s something etched on the bonnet, and the license plate reads Taxi.”

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    The judges were impressed, and so was No.2 who closely examined the sandcastle for himself.
    “Do you know Number 12 I’ve just had an idea for how we can replace our fleet of old jeeps!” he took a small recording device from the pocket of his blazer and recorded a memorandum to himself.
    “Really sir? That is good news.”
    If the full-size Mini-Moke wasn’t remarkable enough, the final sandcastle was even more so….a diorama of the village.
    “How remarkable!” said one judge.
    “The bandstand, café, Town Hall, Bell Tower and all the buildings are perfectly sculpted” said the second judge.
    “And so well detailed, there’s a chap being pursued by the Rover machine” said the third writing something down on his clipboard.
    “The judges should knock points off for that!” No.2 commented.
    The judges walked away in order to confer, then after a few minutes later returned with the result.
    “In third place the Admiral with his World War two diorama.”
    The proud Admiral stepped forward, as the spectators applauded, to accept his third place rosette and the Judges congratulations, and to the applause of the crowd.
   “In second place, with his full-size Mini-Moke, Number 106.”
   No.106 stepped forward shaking the judge’s hand and taking his rosette, as the crowd applauded.
    “And finally in first place Number 234 with his diorama of the village.”
   No.43 stepped forward with pride to the applause of the crowd, shaking the judge’s hands and waving the red first place rosette in the air.
    “Finally, we come to the special merit award of 2,000 free work units, which goes to Number 106.”
   The crowd applauded No.106 as he stepped forward to accept the special merit award.
    And with that the crowd dispersed, the judges walked back to the quayside, leaving Number 2 and his assistant standing examining the Mini-Moke.
    “You seem fascinated with this sandcastle” No.12 said.
    “It’s not a sandcastle” No.2 replied. There was the spark of an idea visualizing itself inside his head “have No.106 brought to my office later this afternoon” he told his assistant.
    “Why, what has he done sir?”
    “Nothing, nothing at all. I simply want to speak to him” No.2 replied, turning and walking across the sand back to the village.

   That afternoon No.21 took a light blue coloured Willys jeep from the motor pool, taking along too strong arm watchmen with him to call on No.105.

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    There was a sharp and sudden knock to the cottage door, upon opening the door No.106 saw three men standing there “What do you want?”

    “We have come to take you for a ride, Number 2 wants a quiet word with you” No.12 told him.
    “And these two?”
    “He looked at his two companions “They’re here to help you into the jeep, should you resist.”
    “Me, what does Number 2 want with me?”
    “Come with me and we’ll find out together” No.12 told him.
    “I can’t for the moment, I’ve a soufflé in the oven.”
    No.256, a burly set man in a red and black striped jersey stepped forward, passing 106 into the cottage, in the kitchen he turned off the oven. A moment or two later he returned and nodded at No.21.
    “And now you can” No.12 said leading the way.
    The two men took 106 by the shoulders and marched him out of the cottage and along to the jeep, No.2 sat behind the wheel and started the engine. No.106 was bundled in under the grey canopy and they all drove off together.
    Stepping through the open gates No.12 led the way up the steps. 106 followed, the two Watchmen bringing up the rear, towards the impressive façade of Georgian house which had become No.2’s temporary residence. However there being no front door, No.106 was taken round to the back of the building and bundled in through an already open door where the diminutive Butler stood waiting, and into a small office.

    “Are there you are Number 106, do sit down” No.2 offered indicating the black leather chair.
    The two watchmen sat 106 in the chair and left the office, while No.21 stood close to hand.
    Number 2 sat in a brown leather chair, behind an oak desk.
    “My apologies for this, but my office in the Green Dome is currently under going reconstruction, and the decorators haven’t finished yet” No.2 said with a warm smile “perhaps you would like some tea.”
    The butler wheeled in the tea trolley and proceeded to pour out three cups of tea, bowed, and left the room.
    No.2 sat in his chair stirring his tea, No.21 leant up against a wall, and 106 sipped his tea wondering why he had been brought before No.2.
    “Now 106,” No.2 said enjoying his tea “tell me about the Mini-Moke.”
    “What makes you think I know anything?”
    “The sandcastle you created suggests you do. Tell me why you etched the image of a Penny Farthing on the bonnet?”
    “I don’t know, I think it was there all the time, and I just brought it out, it seemed right somehow, 106 told him.
    “And the Mini-Moke?”

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    “The Austin or Morris Mini-Moke was originally developed for the army by BMC, as a light military off-road vehicle, however its small wheels and low ground clearance made it impractical” 106 explained.
    “For the army, oh of course, you worked in the Home Office until…..”
    “Do we have to drag all that up again? I’ve cooperated, I’ve told you everything I know.”
    “Yes and now you have revealed a little more” No.2 said smiling “So the military gave up Mini-Moke.”
    “Before I was brought here plans were being laid down to make it a civilian version, as a run-about, and beach buggy, and was to have gone into production last year” 106 explained.
    “Good, you may go” No.2 said with a look of satisfaction.
    “Go, is that all?” said 106 placing his cup and saucer on the desk.
    “Did you want there to be more?”
    “No, no not at all.”
    “Then go and enjoy the day” No.2 told him.
    No.106 got up out of his chair to find the butler waiting to escort him out of the Georgian house.
    “What are you up to Number 2?” asked his assistant putting his cup and saucer down.
    “A special import, one more in keeping with the village than old Willys jeeps” 2 said with a wry smile, and picked up the receiver of the red telephone, “Number 2 here sir……….”

    Two green Scammel Highwayman transporters travelling in convoy, tuned off the motorway, and onto a long winding B road. On the trailers their cargo was covered by tarpaulin and secured by heavy duty ropes. It had been a long and tedious journey, but now they were approaching their destination. Ahead the driver and his mate saw the large wrought iron gates closed across the mouth of the dark tunnel.
    “You got the key?” asked the driver.
    “Yes I’ve got the key” said his mate.
    The first Scammel transporter came to a stop, and the second close behind. The driver’s mate climbed out of the cab and walked round to the front of the vehicle key in hand, unlocked the large brass padlock securing the gates and swung them open. The driver turned on the headlights, and lorry moved forward, the mate climbed back into the cab and the two lorries drove slowly along tunnel.
    In the now reconstructed and renovated Green Dome No.2 sat in a black global chair within a large, futuristic looking, purpled walled domed chamber, behind a grey curved desk. The yellow telephone began to bleep somewhat impatiently, he picked up the receiver.
    “Number 2 here.”
    “I thought you would like to know, the special imports are about to arrive” No.12 reported “I thought you would like to meet the delivery.”
    “Yes, yes I would, I’ll be right there” No.2 replaced the receiver,

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pressed a button on the control panel of his desk, and sat back in his

globe chair as it descended through the floor.
    At the bottom of the shaft No.2 climbed out of the chair and walked along a corridor. At the far end he stepped up onto on a round dais which then descends through the floor carrying No.2 down another dimly lit shaft at the bottom of which he stepped off the dais and in front of him a pair of steel doors which slid open at his approach. He stepped through and into a rock lined tunnel, at the far end was an old wooden door with a large rusty lock and rusty hinges. He took a large key from his blazer pocket, put it in the lock and turned it.
    “Ridiculous!” he muttered sliding the key out of the lock.
    There was an electronic hum as the old wooden door opened automatically revealing the large cavern beyond. No.2 stepped through the open doorway, the wooden steel clad door closed behind him; the electronic neon sign displayed the words WELL COME. The floor of the cavern was completely smooth, large stalactites hung from the ceiling. In a corner of the far side of the cavern were a bank of electronic switchgear cabinets, along with a control panel, large projection screen, and 6 banks of magnetic tape reels, all operated by figures dressed in white hooded robes.
    “Ah there you are sir” said No.12 crossing the floor of the cavern, he was accompanied by two such figures in white robes, their faces obscured by black and white theatrical masks. No.2 found the figures disturbing, as though they belonged to some secret society who meet in secret without knowing or seeing the faces of their co-members.
    “The transporters should be here at any moment sir” No.12 announced.

    Lights appeared at the mouth of the tunnel as the first of the two Scammel transporters entered the cavern with the second parking alongside it, this caused quite a commotion, and several white robed figures stood looking on. The two drivers and their mates stepped down from the cabs and confronted No.2 with a delivery note.
    “Sign here mate” said one of the drivers.
    No.2 looked at the invoice marked ‘Special Import’ “I’m not signing anything until I’ve seen the goods, what’s more I am not your mate!”
    “Alright governor, keep you hair on. Alright Sid, lets get the covers off.”
    The four men began to untie the ropes securing their loads; steel ramps were secured to the rear of the trailer, and the tarpaulins were removed from the four vehicles.
    “Well Number 12, what do you think?” No. 2 asked.
    “I’m impressed sir.”
    “And so you should be” No.2 said with a feeling of pride.
    On the trailer four gleaming white Mini-Mokes, two with white, yellow and brown striped canopies, the other two had orange and white canopies.
    “Right” said No.2 “let’s get the job organised, and the Mokes off-

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loaded.”
    The two drivers climbed aboard the trailers, whilst their workmates stood at the back of the trailers. Engines of two of the Mini-Mokes started, and were carefully driven backwards off the trailers, and were parked up side by side. The same with the other two Mokes.
    “Right governor, if you sign the delivery note, we’ll be on our way, we have a long way to go” said one of the drivers offering No.2 a pencil.
    His three colleagues tidied up and made secure the tarpaulins and ramps with ropes.

    “Oi Fred” the other driver shouted across the cavern “There’s a spare canopy here.”
    “Oh I’d forgotten about that.”
    “Forgotten about what?” asked No.2.

    “It’s a spare canopy, it’s marked on the delivery note, spare black and white striped canopy” Sid said pointing out the item.
    “What’s it for?”
    “Its convert’s one of the Mokes into a hearse” Sid explained.
    No.2 examined the delivery note “I don’t see the two Red Cross trailers marked down.”
    “We couldn’t bring those; they’ll be arriving separately in a week or so.”
    “All ready here Sid” the other driver shouted.
    “So if you’ll sign your number there.”
    “I’m not signing for anything, not until me and my mate, I mean my assistant have checked the vehicles over.”
    No.12 was doing just that “They’re a bit sporty, much better than the old Jeeps” he said climbing in behind the wheel of one of the Mokes.
    “They’re very nice, look at the wood panelling, they’ve made a terrific job of them” No.2 said poking his head under the canopy.
    “They’ve aerials but no radios” 12 observed.
    “That would break the rules, as well you know 12.”
    “Yes sir, quite” agreed No.2 climbing out and walking round to the front of the vehicle “the license plates read taxi.”
    No.2 checked the rear of each Moke in turn, all four fitted with a tow bar.
    A group of white robed figures had stepped forward and were also interested in the four vehicles.
    “Well that’s what they are, taxis, village transport, ambulance…..” No.2 told his assistant.
    “And a hearse” No.12 added, and releasing the two bonnet hooks he examined the 850cc engine.

    “The jeeps needed to be replaced, and what better to replace them with” No.2 said with pride.
    “With a Mini-Moke.”
    “Yes, it was originally designed as an all terrain vehicle for the

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army.”
    “Really.”
    “The army wanted a small, light vehicle which could be dropped by parachute. Unfortunately in designing the Moke they used an 850cc engine, and parts from a Mini van. The design’s small wheels and low ground clearance made it unsuitable as an off road military vehicle.”
    “It seems progress has taken a backwards step” 12 suggested.
    “How do you mean?”
    “Well a perfectly good off road vehicle like the jeep has been replaced by a Donkey!”

    “What’s that?” No.12 asked pointing to the bonnet of one of the new taxis.
    “It’s the village emblem” 2 replied.
    “Village emblem, we’ve never needed an emblem before, who thought that one up?”
    “The general purposes committee.”
    “A Penny Farthing with what looks to be a canopy.”
    “Yes.”
    “What’s the thinking behind it?”
    “Does there have to be thinking behind it? It’s a logo, or trade mark. It will be on everything, including the tinned village food” No.2 announced.
    “When you two are completely finished, we’ve got to be going” Sid shouted.
   No.12 closed and secured the bonnet of the Moke “Just a minute sir, this one’s got a black front bumper.”
    “So it has” observed No.2.
    “What about it?” Sid said aggressively, suggesting that they could soon match that up with a bit of white paint.
    “What about our four Jeeps?” No.2 asked.
    “What about them?” Sid asked uninterested.
    “Are you taking them back with you?”
    “I’ve got no return note for any Jeeps, you’d best keep them.”
    “But we don’t need them now” No.2 told the driver.
    “Not my problem mate!”

    Finally No.2 put pencil to paper and signed the delivery note and handed it to the driver.
    “Right lads, we’re on our way out of here” Sid said walking back to his lorry.
    “Just a minute, do you think you’re leaving” said No.2 “what about security?”
    Sid opened the driver’s door “Don’t worry about that mate” he said climbing into the cab “we’ve all got top security clearance for a job like this. We’ll most likely be back next week with the trailers.”
   The drivers started the lorries engines, turned the vehicles around, and back along the tunnel.
   “Right No.12, better get the drivers introduced to these taxis and on

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the rank.”
   “Righto Governor!”

   “What did you say?”
   “Right away Number 2.”
   “That’s better.”

    Three female taxi drivers collected three of the Mini-Mokes from the motor pool, and having given them the once-over, they drove them from the motor pool through the village to the taxi rank. The three Mokes already looked very much at home, and quite the part in their shiny white paint and candy-striped canopies. They caused quite a stir amongst the citizens.
    The fourth Mini-Moke was collected by two watchmen who were under No.2’s instructions to give the vehicle a thorough off-road test. Into the woods and along the tracks, then out into countryside, and finally back through the village, down the slipway and out onto the sand of the estuary.
    Two men busied themselves with folding down the canopy.
    “I’m going to enjoy this” 256b said climbing behind the wheel.
    “Who said you were driving?” 256 protested.

    “Well we’ll take it in turns; you drive through the woods, and taking the track out into the countryside. Then I’ll give her a final spin on the beach” No.256 said with a smile.
    “And if we get stuck?” 256b asked.
    “Well one of us will have to get out and push, won’t you! Now get in and let’s go” No.256 said switching on the engine.
    The Mini-Moke performed well on tarmac as 112 expertly drove the taxi at speed through the streets of the village, sounding its two-tone horn to warn pedestrians and cyclists alike of the taxis approach. They took the track leading from the back of the Town Hall into the woods. There had been no rain these past weeks, and the going was good, even on the soft ground, and showed no signs of its four small wheels becoming stuck in the soil due to its low ground clearance. But true to form the Moke was better suited to the hard ground of the rutted track leading into the countryside and towards the mountains.
   With 256 now behind the wheel, he drove the Moke back along the track, through the woods and through the village, turning heads of pedestrians as it passed by. One citizen tried to flag the taxi down, but it simply drove passed.
        “Well I’ll be damned” said No.38 cursed turning to other pedestrians “did you see that? He didn’t stop, I’ll complain to someone about that you see if I don’t!”

    “They looked to be in a hurry” No.27 observed.

    “You think they’re after someone?” 213 said
    “Bound to be” 27 agreed.

    “Just as long as it’s not us!” No.63 added.

  The Mini-moke carried on down road passed the Town Hall towards

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the Old People’s Home, then reaching the bottom of hill slowed and took the hair-pin bend just before the Old People’s Home. Turning on the siren, then taking a sharp right hand turn and down the slipway onto the beach, putting his foot down hard on the accelerator.
    The officer of the watch-No.28, together with No.2, and his assistant stood watching the large wall screen, in the domed chamber of the Control Room, as the Mini-Moke sped out across the wide expanse of the sandy estuary.
    “So far so good” remarked the officer of the watch.
   “The sand’s hard, the tides been out for weeks” said No.12.
   “Yes, but it does get softer the further you go out” the officer of the watch replied.
    Numbers 256 and 256b were enjoying themselves, the moke sped across the hard sand, the driver pulled hard on the steering wheel, first left then right, the vehicle responding well, leaving tracks in the soft sand but showing no sign of bogging down. Ahead was a shallow gully of water, the Moke headed straight for it splashing through it, sending water cascading into the air drenching the Moke underneath, its two-tone siren still sounding as the vehicle survived the water test, and continued on its way out across the sand as though in hot pursuit of an escaping prisoner!
    “A satisfactory test I should say” remarked the officer of the watch turning away from the screen.
    “Indeed, the Mini-Moke is the perfect vehicle for the village” said No.2 wearing a satisfied grin on his face. He was also wearing a badge.
    “Serving as a taxi” said the officer of the watch.
    “And ambulance, once the Red Cross trailers arrive......” began No.2
    “And as we have witnessed as a pursuit vehicle for security to use” added No.12.

    “Well quite” No.2 finished mounting the steel steps onto the mezzanine, the pair of thick steel doors opening automatically, he paused and said looking again at the screen “Just make sure that when those two clowns have finished fooling about, they return the Moke to the motor pool and give it a good wash and polish!”

     “If you don’t mind my asking, what’s that?” the officer of the watch asked pointing to the white disc pinned to the lapel of 2’s jacket.
    “It’s a badge” No.2 replied, we’ll all be wearing them soon.
    The white badge was 2 inches in diameter, with a black Penny Farthing bicycle on it along with the red numeral 2.
    “Here” said putting a hand in his pocket “you may as well have yours now.”
    The officer of the watch took the offered badge, black with a white Penny Farthing and the red numeral 28.
    “I’m to wear my number?” asked the officer of the watch.
    No.12 smirked.
    “No need to smirk 12, you might as well have yours as well” 2 said handing his assistant his badge.

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This had not gone unnoticed by other members of the watch.

   “Its easier for matters of identification, now we’ll know who everyone is” No.2 said.
    “I don’t understand the reason for the canopy sir” 12 said pinning the badge to the lapel of his blazer.
    “The canopy keeps the rain off, and it’s symbolic!” was all 2 said.
    “Symbolic of what sir?”
    “Of the protection we offer” 2 said.
    On the wall screen the Moke could still be seen racing across the sand, splashing through water turning this way and that before finally turning back towards the village and back up the slipway.

    The next day No.2 attended a meeting within the Town Hall with members of the General Purposes committee. On the agenda were a number of proposed changes that were to come to the village which were quickly approved and adopted.

   A week later saw the arrival of two, two wheeled wooden sided Red Cross trailers complete with white canopies, together with a number of bicycles. Metal large frames had been attached to the rear of the bicycles and they were complete with candy striped canopies, these to be attached behind the seat of bicycles and the canopy affording protection to cyclists against the elements. One of these specially designed canopies was attached to the postman’s Penny Farthing bicycle. However this proved to be impractical for the rider, making the contraption top heavy and was quickly removed! Also a large consignment of black and white striped signposts topped with an orange and white striped canopy, under which were blue painted numbered signs with the number of each private cottages, or signage depicting for example, the Labour Exchange, Town Hall, hospital, Café. More than that, citizens were served notice to attend the Town Hall, where they would each receive a badge which they were to wear at all times. The badge denoting a citizen’s personal number, and make for instant identification.

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Chapter 4

 

Benjamin Stone

    The sun makes it all shine like a new pin. And the day began like most days in the village. Already people were promenading around the pool and fountain in the Piazza, whilst others were enjoying themselves in a game of Croquet on the village green. Citizens all dressed in bright coloured attire, striped capes, straw boaters, piped blazers, some went about carrying open umbrellas acting as parasols against the sun. Cyclists peddled their bicycles this way and that, a man riding a tricycle rang his bicycle bell when pedestrians got in his way.
    “Good morning, good morning one and all” began a cheery female voice over the public address system “congratulations on yet another day. It’s another day of sunshine and blue sky, although there is a danger of intermittent showers later in the day. Here is a special announcement, the local Town Council, and remember it’s your local Town Council, has announced a great new sandcastle competition which is just three weeks today.”

     There was a sudden disturbance of the violent kind. Two men had started an argument, about nothing at all. They grappled with one another, punches were thrown resulting in a split lip and a bleeding nose. One got the other in a deadly Dervish death grip that struggling against it sent the two men ending up in the fish pond.

   Suddenly there was the sound of a siren, and a light blue Jeep was quick on the scene. Two men in grey overalls, white helmets and white gloves and boots jumped out brandishing white truncheons, leaned over the low stone wall, and hauled the two men out of the water. They were quickly bundled into the back of the jeep and driven away.
    No.4 had been watching the scene from a nearby bench “What will happen to them?” he asked one of the citizens watching the scene.
    “They’ll be given treatment” No.90 told him.
    “At the hospital.”
    “No, in the Therapy Zone” No.90 said sternly.

    The Therapy Zone is a cold dank place, with no mod-cons although there is running water! Candles light the interior of the cave, where a hermit has lived since the war. A figure dressed in robe and cowl sits at a table filling three opium pipes. Suddenly there is a commotion outside and two men are dragged into the cave and pushed onto the floor.
    “Be calm friends, be calm” the hermit said to the two men as the security men left.

    “Where are we?” asked No.50.

24

    “We are all friends here” a man in a straw boater said “this is the Therapy Zone. Come, smoke a pipe, and the village will look a different place” said the hermit.
    “What smoke that filthy muck, not on your life!” said No.52.

    “You are both troubled, here I can take your troubles away, for a few hours at least” was the hermits offer.
    50 and 50b looked at each other, the one tipping the other the wink, they got up and made a dash for the opening of the cave and the night beyond. Just as they reached the mouth of the cave, a steel door slid shut, effectively cutting the two men off from the outside. The hermit stood facing them, an opium pipe in both hands.
    “You were brought here for a reason, smoke a pipe or not, you are going nowhere, this is the Therapy Zone, where I shall bring out your worst fears.”

   It was a chilly, grey Wednesday morning, and just after breakfast it began to rain. It was the kind of morning that one wished to remain indoors behind a comfortable desk. But go out into the damp and cold he must, because an appointment had been made and must be kept.
    A short walk in the chill air was a bracing one for Benjamin Stone as he made his way along to the bus stop to catch the C15 which would take him into the city. He only had to stand waiting for a couple of minutes before a green and cream single-decker bus appeared out of the gloom. He stuck out a hand, the orange indicator flashing the bus pulled over and came to a stop, the door opened and he stepped aboard. Paid his fare, took his ticket, and a seat about half-way along the bus. He glanced at his watch it said 9:31, the bus had been on time. Surprisingly there were no passengers which he thought strange considering the time of day. The bus was usually filled with people on their way to work. The fact of the matter was he was the only passenger, but surely others must have taken the previous bus, they do run a regular service. So he thought no more of it, and settled himself down to enjoy the ride, wiping the condensation off the window with a gloved hand so he could see out.
    The bus began to slow down, and pulled up at a bus stop, no-one got aboard. The driver closed the electrically operated door, and the bus went on its way. It travelled a mile or so, then stopped at another bus stop, the door opened. Looking out of the window he saw a woman and child standing there. The woman waved her hand, the door closed once more and the driver steered the bus back into the traffic, cars, vans, other busses all heading in and out of the city. The bus stopped again, a tall man in a long raincoat, and wide brimmed brown hat got onto the bus.
    “Do you know the way?” the man asked.
    The bus driver muttered something incomprehensible, took the man’s fare and dispensed a ticket.
    The man had a smile on his face and walked along the bus as the

25

door closed. The driver glanced in his mirror, engaged first gear, released the clutch while pressing down on the accelerator, and turning the steering the bus merged once more with the traffic. The sudden movement of the bus momentarily sent the man off balance forcing him to grasp hold of a leather strap hanging down from the roof. After steadying himself the man in the wide brimmed hat walked passed the seated Benjamin Stone, who looked at the tall man from the corner of his eye, who sat in the seat behind him.
   Leaning forward in his seat the tall man said quietly “Do you know the way?”
    Benjamin Stone, a man of medium height, dark brown hair, 34 years of age, an altogether unremarkable man, looking out of the window at the buildings as they passed by, was taken aback for a moment at hearing the quiet voice in his ear. He turned his head slightly, he didn’t turn round because he had no desire to see the man’s face underneath that wide brimmed hat.
   “I don’t know what you mean” he said almost clandestine, as though he didn’t want to bus driver to see him in his mirror speaking to the man sat behind him.
    “Do you know the way?” the man asked once more.
    “The way, the way to where?” Benjamin asked in reply.
    “If you don’t know the way………” the man began.
    “But surely the way lies ahead” Benjamin suggested.

    “You’re on your way to work.”
    “Yes.”
    “You have a black leather document case, I have one like that” the man said and held up an identical one “Would you like to make a swap?”
    “Swap?” Benjamin asked turning his head a little more to see the black leather document case.
    “Mine for yours” the man suggested.
    “Why should I want to do that?”
    “Because you know the way” the man said with a smile.
    “But I don’t know you, you could be just anyone. You sit there and calmly ask me to swap my case for yours. What’s in it anyway?” he asked turning and looking at the face under the hat.
    The man had a narrow face, with sharp features, “hatchet faced,” with a grim expression.
    “What day is it?” the hatchet faced man asked.
    “Wednesday.”
    “Then they’re spam” the man replied, his grim expression suddenly replaced by a broad grin.
    “Spam?” Benjamin asked.
    The man tapped his black document case and said “Spam sandwiches.”
    “I don’t like spam.”

26

    “What’s in yours?” the man asked from below the brim of his hat.
    “Blueprints!”
    The hatchet faced man had his chin on the back of Stone’s seat, his eyes looking down at the zipped black document case on the seat.
    “Now why did I say that?” Stone asked himself trying not to betray his thoughts then said “I think this is my stop” easing himself out of his seat, he picked up his document case and pushed the bell for the bus to stop.
    The bus didn’t stop! In fact the bus had failed to stop at any bus stop remaining on the route. The driver had been keeping his two passengers under observation in his mirror.
    Stone rang the bell again, and again, and once more “I say driver I want to get off.”
    The bus driver made no response.
    He walked to the front of the bus and told the driver in no uncertain terms to stop the bus and let him off. The driver simply ignored his request. But then the bus stopped in traffic at a set of traffic lights. This was his chance, and he took it, pressing the emergency button he waited for the door to open…..it didn’t! He pressed the button repeatedly.

    “Open this door” Stone demanded of the driver.
    The bus driver turned his head, and nodded to the back of the bus.
    “I’m afraid he won’t do that.”
    “And why not?”
    “Because I told him not to!” the hatchet faced man replied “Not until you have exchanged document cases” and to help emphasize the point he produced a gun from his coat pocket “nerve gas.”

    Benjamin Stone looked startled “You’re going to kill me?”
    “Not unless you force me. This is a nerve gas gun” the hatchet man explained.
    “One squirt you’re paralyzed, two squirts you’re…….dead, or you could simply exchange document cases. Which is it to be?”
    The hatchet faced man pressed the stop bell, and the bus pulled smartly to the side of the road at the next bus stop. He walked smartly to the front of the bus and nodded to the driver, who opened the door and let his passenger off.
    “This is H48 to control” the bus driver said into a small radio transmitter “the plans for the electronic defence system have been acquired; the courier is on his way now.”
    The green and cream bus pulled smartly into the road and went on its way.

     “So it was you No.52 who let your bag get swiped!” No.90 said.
    “It wasn’t my fault. I simply got on the wrong bus.”
    “You should have taken a taxi” was the suggestion.
    “I realised that a long time ago.”
    “And so they sent you here. What did they do, put you in charge of

27

the secret files?!”
    “You’re mocking me” 52 said accusingly.
    “My privilege, do you know what happened to those plans after you lost them?”
    “No, how could I?” 52 protested.
    “Shall I tell you?”
    “You’re going to anyway, so just get on with it.”
    “They were brought here to the village, but we need the electronic engineer who put the plans together.”
    “Too bad” No.52 said with a wry smile.
    “We need the inventor of this defence system. Tell me where he is, and I’ll put a good word in for you with Number 2.”
    No.52 thought for a moment.
    “If you don’t tell me openly, I’ll simply take what I want to know.”
    “He’s at the research establishment at Stavely” 52 admitted.
    No.90 shook his head.
    “Well that’s where I was to return the plans” 52 admitted.
    “You do not know where he is, this electronic’s expert?”
    Reluctantly 52 shook his head, he knew what was coming.

    “Don’t tell him!” No.50 shouted.
    “Shut up, I’ll get to you in a minute.”

    “You know what you are don’t you Benjamin.”
    Benjamin Stone stood looking at the floor.
    “Look at me Benjamin, not at the carpet, but I said I’d have you on the carpet, and here you are.”
    “It wasn’t my fault sir” Benjamin protested.
    “If it wasn’t you’re fault I don’t know whose fault it was” PR12 said from behind his desk.
    “I carried out my instructions to the letter.”
    “Yes, but you got on the wrong bus. How did you make that mistake?” PR12 wanted to know.
    “I was waiting at the bus stop, and the bus came along and I get onto it.” Benjamin explained.
    “You were instructed to order a taxi the night before” PR12 said “you were fiddling your expenses I expect, you kept the money and looked to be reimbursed for the taxi fare when you took the bus!”
    “Sorry sir.”
    “You will be Benjamin, we had better return you back to general duties.”
    “General duties sir!”
    “Its all you’re good for Benjamin. Now get out of my office.”
    If there were two things which got Benjamin’s back up it was not having been issued with a code name, and it was others using his first name for his surname. As he left the office, closing the door behind him, he turned facing the door he pulled a face

28

    “And that was your worst fear, being reduced to general duties?” No.90 said with an air of disappointment turning to No.50 “and what about you?”
    “Now don’t you start on me, my instructions were to pick a fight with him.”
    “No you didn’t, I was the one who picked the fight!”
    “On whose instructions” No.90 asked.
    “On Number 2’s instructions, after which he would see I was released and put back into circulation” No.50 explained.
    “Is that a fact?”
    No.90 turned his attention back to No.50 “So what have you got to hide?”
    No.50 looked nervous “N…nothing, nothing at all.”
    “Everyman has something to hide, otherwise there would be nothing to find” 90 said staring 50 in the eye.

    “If you don’t get a wiggle on darling you’ll be late” the brunette haired middle aged woman told her husband, who was still hiding behind the morning newspaper.
    “There’s no rush, I’ve time for another cup of tea yet” he told her.
    “It is a quarter to.” She told him as she began to clear the breakfast table.
    There was a sudden clatter of the letter box, and the sound of post dropping onto the rug.
    “There’s the post” she said and went off into the hallway to retrieve the three brown envelopes and one blue envelope “Three bills and something for you, its marked urgent.”
   Putting the newspaper down he picked up the blue envelope and looked at it.
    “Whoever would be sending you something that’s urgent?” she muttered opening the first brown envelope, it was the gas bill.
    Opening the envelope he brought out the half of a postcard of Trafalgar Square, curiously it was cut at an angle. On the reverse side it simply said ten thirty.
    “What’s that?” his wife asked putting down the final demand, and opening the second brown envelope.
    He quickly put the half of the postcard back into the envelope, and the envelope into his wallet. Looking at the wall clock he went into the hallway collecting his grey overcoat, umbrella, bowler hat, and briefcase.
    “You’re in a hurry all of a sudden” she said waving a final demand from the electricity board “what about that second cup of tea?”
    “Not now Norma, I’ve got to go, or I’ll be late” he told her opening the front door “goodbye” he said closing the door, and with that he was gone.
    Little did Norma Jenkins know at the time, standing there watching her husband leave, the final demand for the rates in her hand, that it

29

would be the last time she would see him.
    It was but a short walk to the railway station, one he had taken many times on his way to work, but this morning it was different. He was sorry for his wife, she had had much to put up with over the years, and now he was about to leave her to it. And yet there was nothing for it, no other way out not after what he had done. Walking down the road towards the station a car passed him, and stopped a few yards ahead. He walked on, his mind on other things. The half of a postcard nestled in his pocket. Obviously it was a recognition signal, so they knew they had the right man, without it he would be going nowhere. But when would the other half of the postcard be presented to him so that the two halves could be joined. On the platform at the station, or on the train? Perhaps the picture meant he had to go to Trafalgar Square and be met by someone there.
    “Excuse me sir, I wonder if you can help me?” a voice asked
    This brought George Jenkins back from deep in his own thoughts, to be faced with a gaunt looking man, with a long thin face, and dressed all in black.
    “Well I don’t know, what do you want?”
    The man said nothing, he simply stood there brandishing a strange looking gun. Pulling the trigger a vapour cloud was released, and George Jenkins stumbled forward and collapsed onto the ground.
   One undertaker opened up the back of the hearse and together they took the coffin out and laid it on the ground, placed the unconscious body inside and replacing the lid put it back into the hearse, then drove off.

    “Who knows where you would be now, what say you Number 50. It’s not very nice behind the iron Curtain, especially for defectors. Once you’ve told them all they want to know, they leave you to live out the rest of your life in misery, so lucky for you we managed to get to you first!”

    There was a sudden announcement over the public address system “Would Number 4 please go to the Labour Exchange where Number 2 is waiting. I repeat, “Would Number 4 please go to the Labour Exchange where Number 2 is waiting.”
    No.90 looked at the man’s badge “I think that means you.”
    “Then he can go on waiting as far as I’m concerned.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Because I’ve no intention of going.”
    “I would if I were you, it doesn’t do to keep Number 2 waiting you know.”
    “As if I care!”
    The foyer of the Labour Exchange was a hive of activity, workmen were busy putting up a number of framed slogans on the walls. “Humour is the very essence of a democratic society” read one,

30

another “Of the people, by the people, for the people,” taken from one of the Abraham Lincoln quotes. “And the government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the Earth. ... The ultimate rulers of our democracy are not a President and senators and congressmen and government officials, but the voters of this country” 1863. Then a more curious one, “Questions are a burden to others, answers a prison for oneself,” he’d have to think about that one. And “A still tongue makes a happy life,” the meaning of which was not difficult to grasp, keep your mouth shut and you’ll be alright, or words to that effect.
    “Ah there you are Number 4, sorry about he mess. If you would step this way” No.2 said pointing the way towards the manager’s office with his umbrella shooting stick.
    As No.4 stepped behind the counter, avoiding the workmen, the grey haired man standing behind the counter at “Enquiries” looked on him with suspicion.
    “Don’t worry, I’m not after your job, I’m not after any job!”
    No.2 stood at the manager’s door with a hand on the door handle, he turned it and both men stepped into the office.
    Through the door were a set of steps leading up to a pair of thick steel doors, they opened and the two men stepped into a large domed, green walled chamber. A few feet in from the wall, another circular wall, but made up of a number of dark and light grey arches, which gave the room a sort of German expressionist look as in films of the 1920’s, such as ‘The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari.’
   Crossing the floor No.2 sat down in a chair while No.4 approached the semi-circular grey desk, behind which stood a man a grey morning suit, on the lapel of which was a badge denoting the No.20.
    “Now Number 4, if you would just fill in the questionnaire” he said indicating the sheet of paper on the desk with a pen.
    No.4 looked at the single sheet of paper, and took the offered pen.
    “Its not difficult, just indicate what you like to eat, to drink, what you like to read, what you were, what you’d like to be. Any illnesses, disabilities, race, religion, politics” the manager told him.
    “You don’t want to know much do you? Why not ask him sat over there, he knows all the answers!” No.4 said in protest, “I’m issuing a nolle prosequi!”

    “You mean you refuse to cooperate?” asked the manager.
    Turning, No.4 marched briskly across the floor, up the ramp, and out through the opening steel doors, out through the manager’s door, and out of the Labour Exchange and into the bright sunshine of the village.
    “You didn’t put him through the aptitude test” No.2 said casually.
    “No” came the reply.

31

Chapter 3

                                                   The Interrogation

    No.4 lay in a hospital bed on ward ‘A’, sitting up he appeared to be the only patient. He threw back the sheets and swung his legs out of bed.
    “And where do we think we are going?” he heard a voice ask.
    “We are not going anywhere, I’m getting out of bed, and I want to go home” he said grabbing the dressing gown at the end of the bed.
    “Now get back into bed, you’ll have to wait for the doctor” the Sister ordered.
    “Why, there’s nothing wrong with me” No.4 insisted putting on the dressing gown.
    “I think the doctor will be the best judge of that!” the Sister informed him.
    “Where are my clothes?” he demanded.
    Two burly set orderlies in white coats appeared on the scene and taking hold of the Prisoner forced him down on the bed. A nurse in a plain white dress appeared carrying a kidney dish containing a syringe The Sister quickly took the syringe and injected a strong sedative into the patient’s left arm.

    It might be thought that at some point No.4 would regain consciousness in his hospital bed, and in normal circumstances that would be correct. Certainly he was still dressed in pyjamas and brown dressing gown, yet he was sat upright, and his arms and were restrained by thick leather straps round his wrists and ankles. He looked about him, he was no longer in the hospital that much was evident, but in an orange walled domed chamber. A few feet away a stainless steel trolley laid out with medical instruments. The pair of steel doors opened and a tall gaunt man in a white coat entered the chamber, the doors sliding shut behind him.
    “How is it with you man?” a Scottish voice asked.
    “Oh just hunky-dory” was the reply as 4 turned his head to look at his companion.
    “You don’t look very comfortable” the man in a white coat said.
    “You’ll no doubt be pleased to learn I’m not” he said struggling against the leather restraints.
    The man in the white coat approached the chair “Don’t struggle that man, you’re cutting your wrists!” was the doctor’s advice.
    “What do you care?”
    “I don’t want you to hurt yourself, that’s why I’m here. Shall we begin?”
    “Begin what?”
    “I am going to ask you a series of questions, and you are going to

17

provide the answers.”
    “Does Number 2 know about this?”
    “If we wait for him we’ll never get anything done. Now, who sent you here?”
    “What?”
    “It’s not a difficult question” he repeated it “who sent you here?”
    “No-one sent me here, I was brought here, but I’ll go away as soon as you like.”
    “You mean leave?”
    “Yes.”
    “Leave the village?”
    “Yes.”
    The man in the white coat laughed “Leave, I wouldn’t have you leave for the world. Now Number 4 time is pressing so we had better get on.”
    “So you know who I am, now do you mind telling me who are you?”
    “I could be a friend!” the doctor said.
    “You don’t seem very friendly if you don’t mind my saying.”

    The doctor approached No.4 taking a scalpel from the breast pocket of his white coat and inched it closer to No.4’s eye “Then if not a friend man, who am I?”
    “The enemy!”
    “That’s right laddie.”
    “Well just as long as we know where we stand.”

    The Prisoner rubbed his wrists against the leather restraints chafing and abrasing the skin and causing them to bleed. The idea being the one pain cancels out the other.
    “You’re hurting yourself again laddie, stop it, that’s my job.”
    The Prisoner did it all the more, and the more it hurt the more he liked it. The doctor prepared a syringe and cut open a sleeve of No.4’s pyjama top injecting him with a serum, and then waited for a few moments for the drug to begin to take effect. Then a second drug was administered, the effect of cocktail of drugs on the Prisoner made his head swirl, he began to perspire, he felt sick inside. The drugs were having an effect on his mind conjuring up fearful images. His eyes widened he struggled even more against his restraints, he began to see things, demons, burning fire, there was a wall and beyond the wall a city lay in ruins. He closed his eyes tight shut but the visions remained in his head, he was here, then he was there in a deserted street in Berlin. He fought, struggled and finally managed to shut the image out of his head by thinking of something else…Elsa he remembered Elsa……
    “Open your eyes laddie.”
   The Prisoner kept his eyes tight shut, living with the pain from his wrists and the memory of Elsa. The doctor slapped him hard across the face and Elsa was gone.
    “Open your eyes and look at me.” the doctor ordered.

18

    The Prisoner slowly opened his eyes, he saw a face, a face so

familiar to him it could have been his own……it was his own but like looking into a mirror!
    “What do you see?”
    “I….I see me, that’s me, you’re me” he rubbed his wrists against the leather straps “You’re not me, I’m me.”
    “You” said the doctor “are your own worst enemy, otherwise you wouldn’t be here” he removed the mirror “we’ll have to do something about those writs if you refuse to cooperate!”

    The doctor turned to the trolley and selected another syringe filled with a dark red liquid “Now….what were you doing in East Germany?”
    “I was never in East Germany” he said using the pain from his wrists to block out the memory.
    “That is a lie, but I won’t hold it against you because I like a challenge, there’s no fun in it if my subjects talk too soon. But you will tell me, in the end you’ll want to tell me”

    A third injection as the needle entered the Prisoner’s upper arm, the plunger depressed.
    “It doesn’t hurt any more the Prisoner said.”
    “Doesn’t it?”
    “No” he said and his lips formed a smile, and a happy look came over his face “I’m high.”
    “Are you?”
    “I’m higher than you.”
    “You don’t say.”
    “I do say.”
    “Then tell me about Klaussmann?”
    “Who?”
    “You heard the question. Did Klaussman give you anything?”
    “I don’t know any Klaussman.”
    “East Germany, you were on assignment there.”
    “I’ve never been there.”
    “Where, where haven’t you been?”
    “You’re a funny man, I like you.”
    “Did Klaussmann give you the formula?”
    “Funfair.”
    “Funfair, you went to the funfair, Spreepark is that where you went?”
    “Ferris wheels, roundabouts…..do you like candy floss, I like candy floss.”
    “You went the Spreepark funfair, Klaussmann passed something to you.”
    The Prisoner struggled to suppress old memories; he worked his wrists against the blood soaked leather restraints.
    “Did Klaussmann give you a book?”
    “Why are you doing this?”
    “I’m not, you are. Do yourself a favour, tell me what I want to know

19

and this will stop.”
    “You’re funny, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about” the Prisoner laughed.
    “Then I’m sorry for you” the doctor said, the pain of a small scratch as the needle of the syringe was pushed into his arm and the plunger pushed.
    “About three minutes is usual” the doctor said.
    “Three minutes?” the Prisoner asked.
    “Until the drug takes effect, what shall we do in that time?”
    “We could have a cup of tea.” The Prisoner said sarcastically.
    “With biscuits perhaps.”
    “Elevenses” the Prisoner said with a smile.
    “No biscuits” the doctor told him.
    “Then it’s after three in the afternoon” No.4 announced enjoying his small victory.
    “Oh very clever, it is the afternoon, but what day do you think it is. How many days have you been in this chamber?”
    “I……”
    “Well come on clever laddie, how many days have you been in this chamber?”
    “One…….two….no, no just half a day, I was in the hospital. Half a day no more.”
    “You are wrong, three days you have been in this chamber, restrained in that chair, that is how long we have been deliberating this, this is the third day” the doctor pronounced.

    “Three days, surely not, I, I, I, I Like you very much, I. I. I. I. think you’re swell!”
    “You like singing Number 4, you are going to sing a wee tale, you are in East Germany at the funfair, on the morning you have a meeting with Kalussmann, at the café…”
    “No, no there was no meeting.”
    “You met, the Colonel told me you met Kalussmann at the café…..”
    “Ich hätte gerne einen Kaffee.”

    “Kaffee, sir?” asked the waiter.

    “No, not coffee, it’s not safe.”
    “The coffee isn’t safe, what wrong with the coffee?
    “Not at the café, it’s no longer safe.”
    “The café was no longer safe, why not safe?” the doctor asked.
    “He took a picture using his cigarette lighter!”
    “Who took a photograph?”
    “Der Mann mit dem schwarzen Hut” the Prisoner said.

    “Of you and with Klaussmann together.”
    “She never turned up!”
    “She! Aber Klaussmann ist ein Mann” the doctor said.
    “Nein ist sie eine Frau” the Prisoner replied.
    “Und das Buch, was ist mit dem schwarzen Buch? the doctor asked.

20

    “Ich habe ein blak Buch” the Prisoner said with a wry smile on his face.
    “Tell me about your black book” the doctor asked.
    “It’s full of numbers.”
    “Numbers, what number?”
    “Telephone numbers” the Prisoner said.
    “Ah, and they make up the code?”
    “Yes, code.”
    The doctor pressed the Prisoner for further information knowing the drug effects would soon be wearing off.
    “The codes, tell me about the codes.”
    “International dialling codes………. Greyfriers 24681.”
    “What are these codes, are they prefixes to the master code?”
    “Telephone, I want to make a telephone call to Greyfriers 24681, prefix 02477.”
    The steel doors suddenly opened and framed in the open doorway stood the figure of No.2 who stepped forward into the chamber. He was accompanied by two men in striped jerseys.
    “And just what do you think you are doing doctor?” No.2 asked approaching the chair.
    “I was interrogating the subject” the doctor replied.
    “This man was in the hospital” No.2 said.
    “I had him transferred.”
    “On whose instructions?”
    “I used my own initiative” the doctor replied.
    No.2 motioned the two men to release the Prisoner “Take him back to the hospital.”
    Instantly the two men stepped forward and released the leather restraints, and helping No.4 out of the chair they placed him on a stretcher, and carried out through the opening doors and into a waiting ambulance.
   “You have overstepped your authority doctor” No.2 told him.
   “I was only doing what you should have, interrogating the prisoner. And after only a few hours I have gained valuable information” the doctor announce proudly “and if given only a little more time……”
    “He was making a fool of you. Who told you about Kalussmann?”
    “It’s in his file” the doctor replied sternly.
    “Maybe, who told you Klaussmann is a woman?”

    “The Prisoner.”
    “Get back to your hospital doctor and tend to your patients” was No.2’s instruction “as for Number 4 he’s off limits for the time being. Oh and doctor remove this equipment, I have a committee meeting in half an hour.”

    No.4 was allowed to recuperate for a couple of days in the hospital, given a medical and eventually discharged, and sent home. He accepted the free ride home in a taxi, but instead of going straight

21

home he called in at the Green Dome.
    Pulling on the wrought iron bell pull a bell sounded from somewhere, there was another sound one of an electronic mechanism, and he was taken aback when the white door opened of its own accord. The diminutive butler in black tails bowed, and indicated him to step inside.

    “Ah Number 4, sorry about the mess. I’m actually moving out for a few days” Number 2 announced.
    “Mind your back mate” said one of the two men in overalls lifting the oak desk between them, and carrying it out through the front door.
    “They’re giving my office an upgrade.”
    “What like the front door?” Number 4 asked.
    “Yes, it’s a bit ostentatious really.”
    Two men in overalls and white hard hats brushed passed carrying pieces of scaffolding.
    “Look lets step outside, I think we’re in the way here” No.2 suggested.
    “Good morning, good morning one and all. It’s another beautiful day. The spell of recent good weather is set to continue for at least another two weeks. For those of a sporting disposition a croquet court is now being set up on the lawn. Ice cream is now on sale, the flavour of the day is vanilla.”

    “I don’t suppose you play croquet?” No.2 asked leaning on the balcony balustrade “they seem to be a player short.”
    “I’m not a team player” No.4 replied.

    “Yes I realize that. What did you want me for?”
    “I’ve just been discharged from hospital” No.4 told him.
    “Yes I know” No.2 said with reluctance in his voice.
    “Oh I should have known, nothing happens in this place without your knowing about it. But I suppose I should thank you.”
    “There’s no need, the doctor was operating without instruction from me.”
    “It was a timely intervention nevertheless” No.4 told him.
    “You would have talked?”
    “Everyone talks on the third day, if they have something to say.”
    “It’s been more than three days” No.2 informed him “so why don’t you tell me?”
    “Because I’ve nothing to say.”
    “You should try and settle down, join in. We could find you some useful employment” No.2 suggested.
    “Work for you, that day will never happen.”
    “You could be useful, your contacts in East Germany for example.”   
    “You’ve got the wrong man, I’ve told you before I’ve never been to East Germany.”
    No.2 unzipped the black document case he was carrying and removed a photograph, and showed it to No.4.

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    “How did you…?”
    “What can’t talk Number 4 can’t lie.”

 

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