Free Jimmy Coates by Joe Craig

the front of the building, right by the main gate, was a TV news van. Whatever they were filming was obscured by the trees and the top of the security fence.
    Jimmy turned to look at the TV. He’d had it on constantly in the background with the sound muted. Even though he knew that every channel was controlled by the Government, he’d wanted to keep up with the events of the night. Now he realised he’d been so distracted by his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed how quickly the results were coming in from the polls across the country.
    Now Christopher Viggo was on the screen with a clutch of microphones thrust towards his face. Jimmy quickly realised the scene was taking place outside the building he was in, the campaign headquarters. Jimmy rushed to turn the sound on. Had Viggo won the election already? Surely it was still too early for a result.
    On TV, Viggo was talking rapidly about the election campaign and the state of the country, but Jimmy didn’t understand the context. He wished he could go downstairs to see what was happening in the flesh. If this was Viggo’s acceptance speech, Jimmy wanted to be there with him. If Viggo was Prime Minister already then maybe Jimmy could go outside freely. He could live without the unseen eyes of the Secret Service scouring the streets to find him and eliminate him. Jimmy felt relief rising up inside him, but forced himself to hold it in check. Not yet , he told himself. Find out for sure.
    Then Viggo’s words started to sink in:
    â€œâ€¦with thankfully little disruption, and what looks at the moment to have been a cleanly fought ballot…”
    Jimmy noticed now that the man’s voice seemed unusually hollow – not the slow, resonant tone he had always used for his speeches before. He was also glancing down at a sheet of notes, which wasn’t like him, and his eyes darted around anxiously.
    He’s tired , thought Jimmy. But he quickly realised it was something more.
    â€œThanks to the amazing technology,” Viggo went on, “the running total of votes has been made available to us much sooner than expected.” Was his hand trembling? Jimmy couldn’t tell. There were dozens of camera flashes exploding on the man now.
    â€œOf course, there is a great deal of formal procedure still to unfold, with the numbers being checked and tallied… but nevertheless, the time has come when I am forced to admit that it is no longer possible for me to win this election.”
    There was a rising chatter of questions from a clutch of journalists off-screen. Viggo ignored them and carried on, leaning into the microphones.
    â€œI had hoped that today would mark the beginning of a new era. A new hope for Britain, for democracy… for change.” There was a catch in his voice as he said it. “You, the people of Britain, have decided that the time is not yet right to embrace that change. So I concede defeat. But I will be back another day.”
    With that, Viggo’s face seemed to relax for a second, before he turned away from the camera and hurried through the gate into the grounds of his headquarters.
    Jimmy found himself at the window again, watching the tiny figure of Viggo below, rushing back towards the building. Had it really just happened? Had Viggo just lost the election?
    â€œNo,” he gasped aloud. How was it possible? How could it have happened so quickly? Even if the votes could be counted straight away, how could the public have turned against Viggo? How could people have voted for Ian Coates? For this Government?
    â€œThey don’t know…” Jimmy said softly, unable to keep his thoughts inside. “They don’t know about NJ7.” His chest was churning with the shock. For a moment he was sure he was going to throw up. He felt an uncomfortable tingle in his nostrils. Another nose bleed , he thought, squeezing the bridge of his nose to cut it off. Then, with what felt like the force