Page 89 - Maj 2020 PDF

Shortly afterwards, he is then dragged in through the four iron doors that secure

the prison against escape attempts, and through a some long passages to
ultimately end up in an extremely modest decorated office. Lastly, he stands

before Brian Simmons, behind an old wooden desk with the old warden’s eyes

staring at him, an amalgamation of infinite fatigue and disgust.
"He is the one of the Brighton terrorists," Pete says.

Brian Simmons has an incredibly long nose, big hands and sharp, piercing blue

eyes. Slowly, he puts aside, whatever object he had in his hands and opens his
drawer, pulls out three papers that’s stapled together and places it in front of

Janokovic on the desk. All done without a word said. He begins to fill out the pre-
printed enrolment documents he has just produced, as he has done hundreds of

times before when new arrests are due to be entered.

"Well," says Simmons, making it the first word he utters, as he’s looking across
the room to Pete and Max, and then finally letting his gaze dwell on Jano for a bit.

"Well, well," he says again, putting his pen down. "It’s a good thing you caught

him and delivered him now, half an hour more and it would have been the night-
team who’d be responsible for his enrolment, and THAT takes a long time. They

must to go to the East Wing to pick up keys in the closet and then back. "
"Could I get Mr. Albrecht to come in for an enrolment?" says Brian Simmons

speaking in to a small microphone placed on the table. With no waiting time, a

voice answers him.
"Yes, he's sent over, he's there in two minutes."

The crackling and distorted sound comes from a speaker hanging on the wall

behind him.
"Please take a seat, and please put the papers you have on the table, as I will

have use them." Simmons points to a small stool on the opposite side of the table.

Simmons then proceeds to talk to the officers: “If you need a cup of coffee or a
sandwich, you know where the canteen is. There is still something left of the day-

team. Have a good trip back to London."

The two rough cops leave the room, and Simmons stays silent after they closed
the door. An old, rusty fan above them gives off a scant, constant howl, otherwise

it is completely silent. The wailing from the fan is only interrupted when
Simmons, with a frown, turns the pages of the papers. There is a rattling at the