Free Striker Boy Kicks Out by Jonny Zucker Page A

grabbed the loaf of bread Rudy brought out of his rucksack, tore a great chunk off it and ravenously tucked in. The barn they were sitting in was a couple of miles off the nearest back road.
    â€œAre you sure no one followed you here?” demanded Carlos, in between mouthfuls.
    â€œAbsolutely,” Rudy replied. “I hardly saw any other vehicles for the whole journey.”
    â€œGood,” nodded Carlos. “Is everything arranged?”
    â€œTomorrow night we make our move,” nodded Rudy. “I’ve staked out the place for the last five nights and the pattern is always the same. There are two guards. During their changeover they have a cup of coffee in the hut round the side of the building. This takes a minimum of ten minutes – on some nights it’s more like fourteen.”
    â€œExcellent,” said Carlos, taking a slug from the bottle of water Rudy had provided.
    After Carlos had found a phone in the village the previous night, he’d run back to the ditch and awaited Rudy’s arrival. It was pitch-dark by then and the headlights of Rudy’s vehicle were the only points of light on the deserted country road.
    They’d gone fifteen miles when Rudy pulled up, opened a metal gate at the side of the road and drove down a bumpy trail that ended next to a dilapidated barn. Rudy had visited the barn on several occasions at different times of day to be absolutely certain it was never used.
    Rudy killed the engine and they got out. Flicking on his torch, Rudy pulled back the creaky barn door. It had obviously once been a place where animals had been kept because there were old sacks of animal feed on the ground and a couple of pens. But that had been years ago.
    Carlos had nodded his approval of the place. “There will be scores of police out looking for me,” he said. “They’ll be checking every place I’ve ever hung out. The escape will be a massive embarrassment to the prison service and they’ll want me back inside as soon as possible.”
    â€œI know,” nodded Rudy. “The story’s been everywhere. This place is perfect, at least for the moment. When we’ve finished the project we’ll have to sort you out something more permanent. People can properly ‘disappear’ if they get a total identity makeover. We’ll give it our best shot.”
    â€œLet’s not worry about that now,” replied Carlos. “It’s one day at a time for the minute.”
    Rudy nodded.
    â€œOK,” said Carlos. “Make your move out of here and I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
    A full twenty-four hours had passed since then without Carlos being detected. The story of his break-out had been on the radio and in the press, but had quickly dropped down the news agenda when a massive forest fire broke out near some farmland, and public sector workers announced a strike over pay and working conditions.
    Rudy turned away, ready to leave Carlos for the second day, when he remembered something. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a photo and handed it to Carlos.
    â€œThis is the guy?” asked Carlos, shining the torch onto the print.
    Rudy nodded.
    Carlos studied the face. “What’s his name?” he asked.
    Rudy paused for a second and then said in a cold, clear tone, “Nat Dixon.”

CHAPTER 12
Talking it Out
    The atmosphere back at the hotel was relaxed. Training had gone well, the players were getting used to the heat and the facilities were great. After a long lunch, Nat spent the afternoon relaxing by the pool, swimming and playing several games of table tennis and snooker with Kelvin and Adilson. Nat was really enjoying himself, so the hours flew by and suddenly it was supper time. Alcohol wasn’t banned by the club, but everyone knew Ian Fox’s attitude towards excessive drinking, so a few of the players had a single beer with the meal, while the rest settled for soft