Caitlyn departed the British Airways flight to Mozambique: She thanked the staff; stepped outside and became winded by the heat of the midday sun. Her jet black hair enveloped heat like vacuum and her emerald green eyes often got stares from passers-by. In the past, she had been accused of wearing halloween contact lenses. Today, she was in an orange summer dress which highlighted the tan on her skin after a girls holiday in Ibiza and really brought out her eyes. In countries where the natives had dark skin blue and green eyes always attracted attension and today was no different. She had boarded the plane with an overnight bag and a peice of paper with an address and name on it.
Hiring a cab she handed him the address she had scrawled quickly whilst on the phone. The driver scowled but began to drive. As he got bored driving slowly to irritate her, he began to speed up until she was grasping the seat for dear life. She settled down knowing the journey would take a while but the journey involved the most dangerous roads she had ever seen. Being known for her fear of heights, climbing up mountainsides in a taxi with barely legal tires; she had to use all her willpower to hold back screams of dread.
Finally she fell out of the cab onto the comfort of soil. Throwing the driver a thirty she walked into the prison. Narcati prison looked shabby and run-down but it was all a façade.
Inside it was immaculately clean and everything was high-tech. The beige walls were bland but then, it was a prison. When she reached the reception desk she asked for "The Fox" the woman looked startled for a second, loaded something onto the computer, asked for ID and spoke quickly to a guard who lead her to block F.
As she sprinted along corridors to keep up with guard she noticed the decline in care. Block A was pristine but when the guard eventually stopped next to a decrepid sign that said "Block F" she was standing in a dimly-lit corridor with the sound of dripping water echoing behind. This is more like a dungeon than a prison, she thought, what had he done to deserve this.
There were only three cells and the guard had told her on the walk the only one was in use. Once he had finished escorting her, not wishing to stay longer than neccersary, wandered back towords the light muttering in his native tongue and leaving Caitlyn in the eerie darkness that made her feel as if she was being held captive here too.
Suddenly, a man jumped onto the bars of the door. The metal seperating a criminal and an innocent young girl was rusty. She backed away until she felt the damp wall against her uncovered back. To her surprise, the man spoke impecable english:
"Over there is a switch. Turn it on darlin'".
She paused, what will it do? She thought: incinerate me? Should I trust a prisoner? "Hurry up girl!" She flipped the switch and a glimour of light appeared from a small electric lamp in the cieling. As she moved closer the light increased. She could now get a better look at this man. He was in his fifties and had grown a long, tatty beard filled with dust and stone from the unstable roof. He was quite short. When he turned around again she noticed one eye was baby blue. She only realised later that he was blind in that eye:
"Its been a long time since I've seen a pretty young girl, Ooh, let me see... eight years give or take"
"Why are you in here?"
The man's oily smile melted away, "don't even ask a man's name before you start asking personal questions?"
"Erm... sorry... what is your name?"
"Richards. Frank Richards. And I'm in here for selling state secrets"
"what kind of secrets?"
"Long ago I used to work for a group of hackers called..."
"The Smilers" she said.
"You know of them?" asked Richards. She was not going to tell him about her relationship to the group, she picked her next statement carefully:
"That's actually why I'm here. What can you tell me about Reydon?"
"Reydon? Never heard that name. But then we didn't use names in the Smilers, we all had our nicknames, I was the Fox: sly and cunning"
"and locked up for high treason to the state!" She noted, "Reydon was the leader, the head of the organisation"
"Oh, so you mean Valour? He was an alright leader. S'ppose...Completely yellow-bellied. Abandoned us as soon as the boat started sinking"
"maybe he had a family to protect?"
"Valour? I doubt it. He loved the money. Couldn't stand the thought of sharing it with little-ones. Come to think of it, you remind me of him. Same jet black hair. You never told me why you were asking about the Smilers anyway"
"I'm making a documentary for my media studies degree" she lied.
"Always wanted my face on TV. When I was locked up the authorities refused to let me have my picture taken!"
Caitlyn thanked Frank and left him a business card. When she left she asked the woman how long his sentence was. She tapped on the keyboard, looked up and smiled, "302 years if he continues on his good behaviour". Christ, she thought.