Out of the Box

Part One: Chapter 1

The path ended at a second checkpoint, a dingy office crammed with people and flies, the whirling blades of a rusty ceiling fan slicing the hot stale air. Denton loosened his tie and waited in line to speak to the guard who was issuing orders to two other men in uniform. When it was his turn at the counter Denton lowered his voice, saying he would be grateful if he could spend some time with the French prisoner. The room turned quiet when he said, ‘Patrick Ledoux,’ and the other guards smirked. Denton thought they’d either detected his phony French accent, or shared his suspicion that Ledoux might be an impostor.

‘I’m the Superintendent.’ The stocky head guard lifted his hat to wipe greasy straggles of black hair from his forehead. ‘He’s a popular man, your Mr Ledoux. This way please.’ He came around the side of the counter, taking the keys from his belt and unlocking a heavy wrought iron gate. Denton’s pulse raced as he followed him into the inner compound. He heard the clank of the gate shutting behind them and felt like a detective closing in on a suspect, albeit one who was already in jail. He hurried to keep up with the brisk march of the Superintendent, down a labyrinth of ancient, musty corridors layered with crumbling plaster. The occasional bare bulb hung from the ceiling, barely lighting the perpetual night that inhabited the warren of windowless passageways. As they passed a distant hum of movement and shouting the Superintendent pointed out a door and told him it led to the largest cell block in the prison. Denton wondered if Ledoux had ever been held there. A man’s cry echoed after them. It was a desperate, heartfelt holler that made him shudder.

He heard a couple of men laughing as he focused on the shiny black heels of the

Superintendent’s shoes as they clicked smartly on the flagstone floor ahead, then he heard a door slam twice. Somewhere between laughter and clicking and slamming Denton recognized the faint strains of a voice, the kind of voice he’d heard every day of his life. A voice with a familiar Australian twang.

As they turned the corner the prisoner Denton had come to see stopped laughing and stood motionless in the corridor, looking him square in the face. In that moment the eyes of the man known as Patrick Ledoux betrayed him.

‘Mr Patrick, you have a visitor from France,’ the Superintendent announced.

Ledoux composed himself. ‘Great to see you again, good of you to come.’

As they shook hands Denton realized his phony French accent hadn’t been necessary. He looked into the face he’d spent so much time thinking about. It was older and more relaxed than the one he remembered, framed now by shaggy fair hair that made his sparkling eyes seem even bluer. Denton thought he detected a look of relief at finally being found.

The other guards were disappointed that they had to go; one took a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and gave it to Ledoux. ‘See you tonight Sudah, we can talk again tonight, yes?’

‘Yeah sure,’ the prisoner answered, then turned to Denton. ‘Come.’

Denton followed the imposing figure in his flowing white kaftan, down the passage, aware that the Superintendent was behind them. They came to the entrance of a dismal little space containing a solitary table and a couple of chairs.

‘I’ll be outside, how long do you want?’ the Superintendent asked.

‘Would two hours be all right?’ Denton lowered his voice, flicking a nervous glance over his shoulder before offering the guard an incentive.

‘No longer,’ the Superintendent whisked the notes out of his hand. He cleared his throat as he stuffed the money into the inside pocket of his well-worn jacket, then plonked his round frame onto a spindly wooden seat like the ones in the room. He was disappointed when the prisoner escorted Denton into the room and closed the door behind them. He waited until he heard the feet of their chairs scraping across the old stone floor, then shot up and rested his ear against the door.

‘You got me,’ was the first thing he heard.

Then the visitor said something the Superintendent couldn’t quite make out. He heard both men laughing, but when their voices became muffled he flopped back onto his rickety chair in a disgruntled heap. His head fell forward onto his chest as he dozed off.

‘So Greg, you here for my big day in court tomorrow?’ Ledoux asked.

‘Sure am. Last place I saw you was the Adelaide Athletics Club. Sounds like you’ve been bloody busy since then.’

‘Too much to tell buddy, way too much to tell.’

‘I’ve got all afternoon, and you don’t look like you’re going anywhere. How the hell did you end up in this godforsaken place?’

The prisoner leaned back and sighed, shaking his head as if asking himself the same question.