False Witness (John Steel series Book 3) Read Free

near the wall.
    “I don’t want any trouble,” Brian Armstrong appealed to them, raising his hands with the palms flat upwards in a stop gesture, but the three men just laughed.
    “It’s okay, you do what we tell you and there won’t be any problems. Now get your ass down and get on your knees, bitch.”
    Brian shook his head and moved his right leg backwards slightly. “Sorry that’s not going to happen,” he told them.
    The man to the boss’s left just sucked his teeth and walked forwards quickly. He went to grab Armstrong, but before he knew it the goon was thrown to the ground and Armstrong held the man in an armlock while his foot was on the back of the man’s neck.
    “Okay, back off or this guy has to find someone else to cut his food,” Brian yelled at them.
    The second goon rushed forwards to try and catch Armstrong off balance and save his friend.
    Through the steel corridors screams of pain echoed through the many floors of the blockhouse, but the guards didn’t care if these men took each other apart, they were there to stop riots, and if the inmates wanted to take each other out that was fine by them. Hell, they were doing society and the taxpayers a favour by letting nature take its course.
    The sound of metal springs screeching was the only noise to break the silence as Armstrong got back on to his bunk. Gomez, the cockroach-like man, had left, had scurried away to find another hole to hide in.
    “You must be the schoolteacher?” Armstrong looked over at the doorway where the voice came from to see a huge form blocking the entrance, but his face was covered by shadow.
    “It seems you are good at your teachings,” the newcomer continued. “Maybe you could spread some education in here.”
    Armstrong sat up as some other men came in and dragged away the unconscious bodies of the three men he’d dealt with.
    “What did you have in mind?” Armstrong asked curiously.
    “Maths, English, those sorts of things. This place has lost purpose, I was hoping you could restore that.”
    Armstrong nodded silently.
    “Welcome, Teacher. And I wouldn’t be worried about any more visits, you have definitely laid out the ground rules and taught the guys a lesson.” The man’s booming belly laugh echoed through the block, accompanied by the sound of the doors closing.
    Suddenly Brian Armstrong opened his eyes and looked over to the small television set that sat in the corner, then sighed deeply. The images of the past were now a distant memory, but one he would ever forget.
    The television had a news report on the prison. At first, his sleepy eyes couldn’t make out too much, and he rubbed them a couple of times to let the eyes’ natural lubrication get to work before opening them again.
    In fact coincidentally, the news report was about him going to the review board at the County Court along with nine other men, but it was his face that was making the news, as it had done all those years ago. The press had labelled him all those years ago and they were doing it again now: to them he would always be guilty, to them he had stabbed his wife in that alleyway and left her to die slowly.
     
    *
     
    The journey from the prison to the city would take a good hour. Outside the rain came down in thick sheets, making driving almost impossible. Bursts of light illuminated the sky as the thunderclouds above crackled and flashed with the build-up of electricity.
    The streets outside the long white armoured prison bus were covered with inch-high water that reflected the lights of the stores and the headlights of the passing vehicles that waded through the ocean on the road, water spewing from their wheel arches as they flew past each other.
    Brian looked out across the half-empty streets; people were either where they should be or smart enough not to leave the comfort of where they already were.
    Armstrong closed his eyes as he felt the coldness of the window glass on his face and the feel of the rain pounding on the