New Order, New Opportunity Pt. 05

"How was work today?" Val asked. Margery uncurled herself, pulled a cigarette from a pack on the coffee table and lit it.

"OK." Barry wasn't keen to start a discussion; all he wanted to do was to get to his bed.

"That's not what I heard." Valerie's response was icy cold. Barry, in turn, looked uncomfortable. "According to what I hear from the Agency, measures were needed to address certain performance issues. Is that so?"

Barry, looked down at the ground and nodded. The inspection at the end of the mornings cleaning had revealed some areas that he had missed. It was almost impossible to get things so that the white gloved finger of the inspector didn't find some fault but this time there had been a corner of greasy dirt that he had completely overlooked. The punishment had been swift and painful but he had thought that it had all been dealt with at work.

"Show me." Valerie's tone now took on an exasperated note.

Barry, turned his back on his wife, unfastened his belt and lowered his trousers and pants revealing the multi-coloured stripes and bruising of the morning's beatings. The combination of the inspector's crop, his work-gang manager's cane and the paddle of the property owner had left his arse covered with a patchwork of painful looking marks. He felt Valerie's finger trace out the line of one of the more painful cuts.

"He has been a bad boy, hasn't he?" Margery joked.

"It's no laughing matter," Val returned. "I introduced him to the agency. If he doesn't perform how does that make me look? And it's obvious from this that he hasn't been performing." She turned back to her husband. "Turn around!" Barry turned to face his wife; his head hanging in shame; his hands clasped in front of him. "Now, if you don't buck your ideas up there's going to be a parting of the ways between you and me. Believe me, you don't want to try your luck as an un-sponsored male but I will cut you off if anything like this happens again. Do you understand? And get your hands away from your cock! That's half your trouble. No wonder you can't keep your mind on what you're doing."

Barry was wilting under the verbal onslaught. Margery, impatient for the return of her lover's attentions was trying to distract her by pushing the silk dressing gown from her shoulder and nuzzling her in the crease of flesh between her arm and her breast. Valerie was finding it hard not to respond and eventually gave in.

"All right," she said to Barry. "Fetch our toy box from the bed room and then get yourself some sleep. You'd better turn in an improved performance tomorrow." She turned back to Margery.

She seemed not to be interested in any reply. As Barry left the room he heard her say to Margery, "Did you say that they were planning to use inhibitors in the prison service?"

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"Looks like you get your day in court," the guard snapped as she slid back the barred door to James's cell. "On your feet, 24601," she said, "You're coming with me."

Being let out of the cell was a novelty in itself. Prisoners that had been sentenced had their exercise hour and reorientation classes, prisoners on remand got to spend time with their lawyers, if they had them, but James didn't seem to fit into any of the usual categories and, as a result, nobody knew what to do with him. That meant he was staying in his cell virtually all of the time but it was safer in there he felt. On the other hand, he thought, I'll get to see something of the outside world.

He was disappointed. The trip out went no further than the end of the cell block, into a large airy, well lit, room. There were others there already. To the left one woman sat motionless, dressed all in black her head and face veiled beneath a dark cloth. Another woman similarly dressed stood on the left of the room talking busily with a group of other soberly dressed women. Lawyers, James assumed, looking like a gang of crows. The women on the right all turned when another woman, identically dressed appeared through the door at the far end of the room. She took her seat and beckoned James forward. His guard pushed him forward to a chair in the centre of the room.

Behind her almost opaque black veil, Catherine Stearns surveyed the scene in the room. She called the group of counsel to order and reminded all present that this was a hearing under the Preservation of Public Order Act. "For the benefit of the subject of this hearing," she turned and nodded towards where James was standing flanked by two guards, "you should be aware that the powers of this hearing are to take whatever measures are deemed necessary to prevent social disruption. Counsel appear veiled here. This is to ensure that there is no question of intimidation or reprisal for the actions of the hearing. There is no personal agenda here that requires counsel or court staff to be recognised. Justice is blind and this court is a representative of the state, not of any of our personal feelings."

The lawyers to James's right nodded in agreement. The one to his left sat unmoving.

"Now perhaps the Counsel for Society would like to open." Judge Stearns turned towards the lawyers on James's right.

One got to her feet; a pillar of black, devoid of features. "The detainee is in protective custody because of the nature of crimes that he was witness to and involved in."

That's hardly fair, thought James, I was forced to do what I did. I didn't have any choice.

"It is alleged that there a number of senior representatives of the state were involved in criminal practices contradictory to those approved by the Government," the lawyer went on. "If the detainee were to be returned to society there would be a risk to his well being from either those directly involved in these offences or those who would seek to exploit them for political ends."

Stearns recognised James, of course. His baffled empty eyes held as little now as when they had stared out at her from behind the ski-mask as he fucked her in the dingy room in Fetter Lane. Fortunately the apparatus of the state would make sure that her own tendencies would never become a matter of public debate.

"I want to be certain that before the detainee is allowed back into society that we can be confident that he will neither be the cause of disruption nor the recipient of intimidation." Catherine Stearns was taking great care to spell out her expectations for the hearing. "As you know this is not a trial, merely a hearing of a protective detention order." She turned to the other lawyer. "What does Counsel for the Individual have to say?"

James looked towards the lawyer on his left, perhaps now he would get some words of support he felt, some expression of the fact that he posed no threat to public order. The lawyer said nothing. Unmoving she gave no sign of having heard a word of what the judge had said. A draft cut across the courtroom as the door opened and a guard came in with more papers for the judge. It caught the edge of the lawyer's veil and as it flicked at the dark cloth, James saw the reason for his counsel's silence. The figure to his right was a mannequin. A shop window dummy in lawyer's garb. Nothing more than a token gesture to the rights of the accused. James was about to make an objection when the two guards at his side, realising that his manner had changed, grabbed hold of him by the arms with a firm grip that said, "No trouble, or else."

James's indignation subsided. Of course it was a sham, what else had he expected?

"Very good," Stearns went on. "I shall make an order for an indeterminate period of protective custody. Periodic review will take place to establish whether the circumstances requiring the order have changed. First review will take place in six months. Subsequent reviews will occur at dates to be determined by the hearing judge and the then current needs for protection."

The only question is, thought James, who is being protected?

"This hearing is concluded," Stearns announced getting to her feet. The other lawyers, with the exception of James's "counsel" got to their feet. The two guards hustled James towards the door, on his way back to his cell. A light tap of a truncheon on his back was all he needed to let him know that his views were not welcomed at this time and that his best policy was to carry on doing as he was told.

As James was escorted from the room he overheard the judge as she turned to the Governor. "It's safer if he stays here, obviously," she said.

"We're not equipped for long term detention here," the Governor responded. "But I can see your point. If any suspicion that senior party members were involved in those practices were to get out..."

James suddenly realised the danger of his situation,

"Exactly." Catherine Stearns felt considerable relief. It had all gone smoothly, but then this sort of hearing usually did. There shouldn't be any further difficulty over Fetter Lane. Johannsen had made it clear through her Fixer what was required and Catherine had delivered. She wasn't sure whether any of them knew of her personal involvement but maybe it didn't matter.

James watched as she went. One of the guards pulled him by the arm.

"Come on, back to your cell. Looks like you're going to be here quite a while."

James had no choice but to go with them. As far as he was concerned all he would be seeing of New Order's wonderful society for some time was the inside of Camp Lima.

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Prime Minister Johannsen looked up as her limousine swept through traffic lights under police escort. The streets were quiet in the early evening. A recent shower had set a glistening sheen on the pavements that shone back the street lights as they began to flicker on. They passed the Tate Gallery heading for Earls Court. Johannsen saw a small crowd of women emerging from the exhibition. It had been quite a success by all accounts. Culture, Media and Her-itage were doing a good job.

The car drove on along The Embankment. Johannsen's thoughts turned to the evening ahead. Addressing the party faithful was always a problem. She had to manage a balancing act between the waverers and backsliders on one hand and the overly ambitious on the other, and of course anything she said to the party would be all over the press the following day.

Still at least this time she had some good news to share with them.

The announcement on the introduction of inhibitors would play well with the hard-liners; they'd see bringing them in to the detention service as a precursor to more widespread use. Johannsen wouldn't have to announce the manifesto commitment. There would be enough speculation to let everyone judge how much of a problem or not public opinion on that would be.

The other bit of good news had come from the trade secretary. Finally there had been some improvement in the manufacturing sector. It was something Johannsen was particularly keen on. The last thing she wanted was for the economy to be dependent on imports, especially when then were labour resources available. The combination of directed labour and the removal of the minimum wage for males had been enough to re-establish the country as a manufacturing centre. The decision of the Koreans to off-shore some of their manufacturing to the UK had been a real success for the combination of foreign policy and encouraging inward investment. That would be something that soft wing of the party could point to as a New Order achievement. The Chinese were talking about it too. The Foreign Secretary had been very excited about that one. They were keen to send their own management over too and they hadn't been deterred when they'd been told that they'd have to conform to local labour laws on positive sexual discrimination in managerial posts. Of course there were still some moaning-minnies that claimed Britain was simply becoming the world's sweat shop but with entrepreneurs like Anne Tennant, Johannsen was confident that there would be enough industrial innovation as well to rebuild the economy. In the mean time, making trainers for Korea or garments for the Chinese would keep the work force busy.

It was all coming together nicely.

THE END