Chapter 1

For those that know,
You know who you are.

EXETER 14th JULY 2008
Reed looked out of the small tinted window of the tour bus. It was raining, the swirling spray from the motorway traffic blurred his vision of the outside world. He knew where he was exactly. He’d travelled the same journey hundreds of times before but not in the same circumstances. Reed knew every turn, every rise, every fall and all the undulations in between. That was experience from the previous decade or two . He didn’t have to look out of the window, he could tell where he was by the pressure on his body as his weight transferred from one side to another. Down the dip, up the other side, into the long left hander, a sharp right, then over the rise and down the fast left curve, passing the Well Hung Meat sign and onto the straight, watching out for the rain stream opposite the farm gate. He looked out of the window again and half smiled to himself as he confirmed where he was. In his M3, he could hit the rev limiter in sixth if it was dry on this section.
The tour bus rattled on. The back axle sounding like it was dry of oil, groaning with all the effort of keeping up a steady sixty mph. A plastic cup rolled back and forth irritatingly in the aisle, the smell of warm stale air all about. Reed never liked being a passenger, but this was different again. This time he was confined to a small space, sat upright with no fresh air. His knees pressed against the partition wall in front, he was beginning to feel heady and sweaty. The oncoming of car sickness just a few swallows away. The journey would take just over an hour and Reed was only twenty minutes into it. He took a few deep breaths and tried to think about what had just happened. At that moment, he thought his life was over. Everything was on the line. His marriage of twenty three years to his beautiful Catherine, his two daughters, his life’s work, everything that he’d strived for, probably all gone in a moment of complete madness outside of his control.
Reed thought of all his friends and family. What would they think? How was he going to face them with any dignity ever again? And Catherine, his beautiful Catherine. She’d been through so much and now this. Would she still be there for him and what about the girls? Reed’s mind was racing backwards and forwards as he tried to reconcile his situation.
The tour bus slowed to a halt in the traffic. The rain had stopped and Reed could see Marsh Barton disappear in the distance as they got going again. The kangaroo starts and sharp stops making every passing moment a step closer to regretting what he had eaten for breakfast that morning.
A distant muffled voice shouted ‘ten minutes lads.’ Ten minutes passed in a blink of an eye and the bus stopped abruptly outside a huge red stone building, the brakes hissing as it did so. The portcullis opened in front of the bus with a wood splitting sound of age old hinges. Backwards and forwards shunting carried on for a while whilst Reed could only imagine what lay ahead. A few more tight manoeuvres and the bus slowly passed through the entrance tunnel with barely six inches gap either side. Reed looked at the red sandstone walling and thought of the Parson and Clerk, a rocky outcrop just off Holcombe Point. It was the same reddish brown colour and texture. It was a happy thought of a summer’s day amid a brilliant blue sea. It quickly passed.
The driver stepped out of the cab greeted by a security guard. ‘How many’? ‘Four,’ he replied. ‘OK, on you go.’ Up the hill they chugged and came to a halt outside a grilled and battered entrance door. Reed looked up at the chilling words chiselled deep into the cold grey granite lintel above the doors. Devon County Prison. What the fuck am I doing here, he asked himself ? His anger still vehement from the court barely a few hours earlier. Key, Lord, Hutchings,  Davidson and McKinney weren’t going to get away with this, not if Max would get his way. But how ? He didn’t know. He would find a way. Of that he was sure. Whatever it took, however long, he would have the last say.
The guard opened the cubicle door and cuffed Reed as he stood ready to go. Out of the Reliance van, he looked up all around. Tall walls, razor wire loops hung from every possible wall top and fence. All windows were covered with bars. Barbed wire everywhere. There would be no getting out of here when you passed ‘GO’.
Another guard walked forward and ordered Reed and his fellow travellers up the concrete stairs. Twenty steps up around the right angle and up another ten steps to a grilled gate. Reed noticed the smell of damp and stale air again as he walked into the reception area. Everything was well used. The paint on the walls was faded and flaky, the lino tiles on the floor were ripped and worn looking like they’d been put down some time in the sixties.
Reed sat down on a threadbare cushioned chair and leaned forward, supporting his chin on his steepled fingers. God, this is awful, he thought to himself. He couldn’t do fourteen months of this.
‘Reed,’ shouted someone from beyond a hatch.
‘Yes,’ he replied looking around for the speaker.
‘Through the open door, please Reed.’he said firmly.
A prison officer asked Reed to stand by the wall.
‘What height are you?’
‘Five foot eight.’
‘Weight ?, stand on the scales.’
‘Twelve and a half,’ replied Reed.
The guards had taken all of Reed’s possessions from him when he had been sentenced and then sent him down to the cells under the court. Everything had been sealed in a plastic bag all noted and numbered. Reed now saw the same bag on the desk in front of him. He had only taken to court his brown leather document case that Catherine had given him some ten years earlier, his mobile phone and his wallet. He had passed his house keys and car keys over to the barrister’s PA, so that his car could be collected and driven back to his home.
The prison officer barked at Reed. ‘Get in there and strip off. Put your clothes on the rail. What size are you? You look medium.’ It didn’t matter what he answered, he was going to get what he was given, whether it fitted or not.
A set of prison issue clothing was handed over. A pale blue T shirt with HMP Exeter on it, a pair of cheaply made grey track suit pants, a pair of grey boxer shorts and a grotty pair of socks.
 ‘Shoe size?’ bellowed the prison officer. Christ, I’m standing three feet in front of you, Reed thought, there was no need to shout.
‘Eight, ‘came the reply.
Reed looked at his clothing. It was all well worn, frayed at the edges, stained and looked like it had been washed in grey water. Who’d worn them before didn’t bear thinking about.
A pair of new size eight black Doctor Marten style shoes with no laces were thrown at Reed’s feet.
‘OK,’ said the guard, ‘we need to deal with all this,’ pointing at Reed’s personal belongings.
The leather document case was opened. Everything was taken out, detailed, listed and bagged. Next was Reed’s wallet with the same procedure. ‘The maximum value you can take into the cell is a hundred pounds. What’s this watch worth?’
‘About fifteen hundred quid,’ said Reed.
‘Well you’re not taking that in. That’s currency.’
Reed said nothing.
‘Would you like to take ten numbers off your mobile phone?’
Reed switched on his mobile and took ten numbers that he thought might be useful and wrote them down on a scrap piece of paper.
‘Right then, write down on this sheet all those numbers you want to ring. Those will be the only numbers you can call whilst you are here, just ten that’s all.’ He only wanted to ring one.
‘I’m glad you said that. I thought you meant, write down the numbers that you couldn’t remember.’ Most of the important numbers, Reed could remember. He even had a good recall of fourteen digit international numbers.
Reed rewrote the preferred telephone numbers on the official form, then signed off his personal belongings and was ushered into the next room.
Another guard addressed Reed.
Drugs?
‘No’.
 Alcohol?
‘No’.
Special medication?
‘No’.
Depression?
‘No’.
Disability?
‘No.’
Fainting?
‘No’.
 Fits?
‘No’.
Diabetes?
‘No’.
HIV?
‘No.’
He thought he could have answered some of the questions with ‘ not yet’, but thought better of it.
‘OK, sign here and here and then wait over there’. A prison orderly walked up to Reed with a clear plastic bag.
‘This is your kit,’ said the orderly. ‘Look after it. It’s all you’ll get.’
Reed surveyed the contents. A dirty bobbly  nylon pillow case, two grubby looking pale green sheets, two well worn woollen blankets, a dented metal flask and a pale blue plastic mug, a tube of unbranded toothpaste, a toothbrush with about ten bristles, a dark green small hand towel, a pale blue plastic bowl and a set of white plastic cutlery. All the fabric smelt, nothing looked new, it was all the kind of thing you would throw out. Reed thought to himself – ‘I don’t deserve this. This is so  wrong.’ Another prison officer walked over to Reed.
‘Come with me please.’ He used the word’ please’, that was a first.
Reed followed the officer through the back of the reception area, down the seven stairs, along the corridors to a locked steel gate. The walls were tall, painted in a vile gloss beige to half way, with an equally disgusting brown to the lower part. Above, fluorescent strip lights lit the brick arched ceiling some flickering intermittently , their lenses filled with dead flies and bugs. The officer opened the gate and locked it behind Reed as he passed through, the clash of locks and bars echoing all about. The corridor was dimly lit and there was that distinct smell all about him.
Reed followed the guard into an office and sat down alongside the cluttered desk.
‘Right, we need to get you through here as soon as we can. Is this your first time?’
‘Yes,’ said Reed.
‘I thought so,’ said the guard. ‘We need to fill in a few forms, you need to speak to Helen in counselling. Have you had anything to eat?’
‘No.’
‘OK, I’ll get you some food. I’ll also get you an emergency phone card, so that you can call your wife?’
‘Yes, my wife,’ said Reed.
Reed answered the questions on the various forms and the prison officer allocated Reed a prison number – VN7708. ‘This number will stay with you and will always be your reference,’ he said.
‘Look, this looks very bad for you at the moment, but believe me it will get better. You may not think that now, but it will. Right now, you are an emotional mess. You don’t know your arse from your elbow. Take my advice. Don’t feel sorry for yourself. Stand up, face it and deal with it. There are some very nasty people in here and you need to keep out of trouble. Don’t stare at any one, keep yourself to yourself and you will be alright. I’m not going to put you in with a crackhead or a pisshead. I will put you in with someone similar to yourself.’
Reed hadn’t thought about sharing, let alone being put in with a crackhead. It wasn’t something he had ever thought about. This was a different world to what he was used. There would be no comfortable king size bed to sit with the children  reading books. Reed thought about Catherine and his two young daughters and started to cry. He just couldn’t stop himself. He never cried, but this was raw angry emotion flooding out.
Reed wiped his eyes and five minutes later the guard lead him through to the counsellor.
‘Hi, I’m Helen. I would like to check how you are and ask a few questions. Can I get you a cup of tea?’
‘Yes please, white, no sugar, thank you.’
‘OK, you’ve been sentenced to fourteen months. That means that you will serve a maximum sentence of seven months provided you stay out of trouble. You should be eligible for eighteen day early release and possibly HDC tagging.’
Reed nodded , he didn’t have a clue about all this. He hadn’t once considered this outcome. His legal team had never talked through this possible scenario. He wondered how he was going to survive the first week let alone seven months, and this was before he had even got onto the landing where his cell would be.
‘Do you have any history of depression?’ asked Helen.
Reed shook his head, ‘ No.’
Helen looked at Reed and told him the same as the guard. ‘You will come to terms with it, it’s not going to be easy, but stay strong for your family. Are you married ? Children?’
Reed nodded and wanted to say, Yes, married to Catherine for twenty three years with two young daughters aged two and seven, but before he could speak , the tears flooded out uncontrollably.
Helen leant across the table. ‘Come on, you’ve got to keep your head up, walk forward. It’s what your family would want.’
Reed controlled himself and managed to finish the interview without a further breakdown but it was so difficult and he felt so pathetic.
‘Come on, drink your tea, and I’ll take you through,’ said Helen. ‘Do you want to ring your wife?’ She said, ‘I’ll get your emergency phone card.’ Reed stood in the corridor and waited for Helen to return. The nerves and the anticipation were almost overwhelming
She handed him the card. ‘Lift the handset and dial your number, then press hash and then dial the code in the envelope.’
Reed followed the instructions and Catherine picked up the phone. Through the tears they managed to say enough to console each other, but realistically they were both wrecked. Catherine told Reed to stay strong for his girls. Keep your faith. We love you and always will, whatever. It meant everything. The credit on the payphone was racing down and Reed tried to say as much as he could. ‘Bye, I love you,’ the phone went dead and the line sounded the continuous tone. He stared at the telephone, nothing. This was it, the talking was over, now he had to walk the path.
‘OK,  Reed, follow me.’ The niceties if there were any,  now dispensed with. More corridors, more gates and up ahead the increasing sound of the animals.
The door opened on to the landing of ‘B’ Wing, Reed stared through. Ahead several prison officers were leaning over the railings looking down the stair well. Inmates were shouting and swearing down below. ‘This is it,’ Reed thought to himself. His worst nightmare.
Reed approached the door to cell B4-5 as the prison officer unlocked the door and beckoned Reed inside. Nothing was said.
The steel door shut with a heavy thud as Reed turned around and stared at it for what seemed an age.
‘Hello,’ said a voice from the top bunk. ‘I’m Karl.’
Reed looked at Karl and extended his hand ‘I’m Max.’
Karl swivelled off the bunk and jumped down onto the dark green lino floor.
The cell was fifteen feet long and nine feet wide. At the far end was a small window three feet wide and two feet high with two sets of steel grills. The cell door was solid steel with a massive lock and a narrow archers type window in the upper centre measuring two inches wide and ten inches high. On the outside of the door was a steel flap which the guards could open to see what was going on inside.
Even with the light on, the room was dimly lit. It wouldn’t improve much with daylight. On one side of the cell were two bunk beds, a small locker and a couple of corner shelves. On the other side of the cell was a table and two chairs. A doorway lead to the loo and a small wash hand basin – the en suite, if you like. A CCTV camera was fixed in the top right hand corner and that was basically it. An empty corner shelf fixed to the wall with a socket and aerial jack. Nothing else.
‘How long are you in for?’
‘Fourteen months.’
‘And you?’
‘I’m on remand, got in a couple of hours ago’ said Karl. Max didn’t really know what that was but didn’t say anything.
‘I got stopped for drinking and driving whilst disqualified. I’ve got to go back to court next Monday for sentencing.’
Reed looked at Karl. ‘I’ve been sentenced to fourteen months’ he said quietly and then after a short pause he continued, ‘ but they’ve just told me I will serve a maximum of  seven months less an early release of eighteen days. I should be out by the end of February. Christmas in prison’ It was a sobering thought.  He didn’t understand how it all worked, but that was what he’d been told. It was now 14th July 2008 and February 2009 seemed a long way away. The conversation was slow and painful for both of them. Neither wanted to speak, they were tired and frightened of what lay ahead and there was along way to go.
By the time Reed had got into the cell, it was near 10.00 pm. He’d been in custody since 1.00 pm and hadn’t eaten anything. The promise of food never materialised, the officers couldn’t care less.  He was weary as he made the bed and climbed in.
Lying there, with his hands behind his head, staring at the underside of the mattress above, he thought about the hundreds of villains that had laid in the very same spot , murderers, rapists, paedophiles, fraudsters, they’d all been there before him. Just twenty four hours earlier Max and Catherine had been special guests at the back stage party of the Duran Duran concert in Birmingham. Simon Le Bon was a good customer of Max’s and it just couldn’t seem possible that he could go from kissing Simon’s supermodel wife, Yasmin to where he was now in less than a day. It was mad. Someone had burnt  the paint off the lattice frame and bed posts and scratched ‘Reggie woz ‘ere 1963’.

TEIGNMOUTH -  OCTOBER 1974

It was nearing the end of October 1974, Reed had been at Teignmouth Grammar School for nearly two months and he liked it. It was a lot better than a boys boarding school and there was the added attraction of girls, something he had not really experienced before. It usually took twenty to twenty five minutes to walk home and quite often there was a pretty girl walking in front of him along the way . She was in the same year as Reed, but in a different class. He didn’t know who she was.