1990 by Wilfred Greatorex

they did it for ideology, they'll be inside two years.'
    Kyle flinched slightly. In order to reduce numbers in the overcrowded prisons, the government were playing with the option of a shorter sentence combined with a daily issue of a drug designed to induce extreme mental depression.
    Kyle had personally taken these 'misery' pills for a week, in order to be able to write a first hand story when the scheme was originally introduced. He recalled it as the only period of real despair he had ever experienced, a time when he could easily have committed suicide and, after all that, his story had been 'spiked' by the Editor for reasons the Editor would not go into.
    'Any idea who they are? The helpers?' Kyle asked quickly.
    'One's a seaman named Harper and we believe two more are in it. It won't take Skardon's chaps very long to find out. They've brought a new dimension or two to interrogation.'
    'When are they planning to spring the trap?'
    'They're leaving it right up to sailing time. In case a few late hopefuls show up...'
    Kyle's mind flashed to Dave Brett, who was due to deliver two more would-be emigrants within the next hour. Knowing it was useless to attempt any direct action, he could only hope Marly had managed to intercept them.
    Faceless was still talking. '...and there's this...' The gloved hand emerged from the partly-open driver's window. '...You'll never believe it, but the Home Secretary's pressing a novel notion in Cabinet to change the King's Birthday Honours List.'
    'Oh, really?' Kyle's voice sounded eagerly surprised.
    'That's his paper to the Cabinet. In place of titles and seats in the Upper House, he wants to award happiness pills and rights to extra rations of meat and petrol and the purchase of luxury goods.' Old Faceless passed over a folder. 'Make sure you burn that after digesting, won't you?'
    The illegals dozed in the cabin. Three days were too long to maintain a constant pitch of tension. Only Nolan, the last to arrive, remained restless, pacing about, his hands twisting together behind his back. Half an hour, and the ship would weigh anchor: an hour, and they would be safely outside British waters.
    An imperious knock shook the door. The five stowaways froze. A voice ordered, 'Open up! Public Control Department.'
    Months of secret mutiny, weeks of a thousand hopes shattered. They had all known it was possible, but those final days, cocooned in the warm cabin, had lulled them. The first emigrant moved meekly towards the door.
    'No!' shouted Nolan.
    'Don't be daft, there's no way out!'
    As the West Indian snatched at him, the door came crashing in. Nolan made a wild, futile leap into the throng of Emigration Officers. Fists and boots crashed into him. His body rang with sharp, bright pains and he slumped down, only to be hauled upright against the panelling for another beating. The E.Os. were wet and cold. Most of them should have been off-duty hours before. Their thoughts were full of missed dinners and angry wives. Nolan had provided just the chance they wanted.
    Skardon had made sure that the media were informed in good time. As the dejected group of illegals came down the gangplank surrounded by its escort of Emigration Officers, The TV cameras started to turn.
    A deep-voiced newscaster began reporting, 'All five illegal emigrants had had appeals for exit visas turned down by the Ombudsman's Courts and all had signed Form P Seventeen promising to work in Britain for ten years after graduation or qualifying...'
    Kyle watched on the newsroom set, his face mellowed and indifferent. As the captured men moved towards a prison van on the quay, the news editor peered hard at the screen. 'Two of them have been duffed up.'
    'The sea was rough in the Port of London,' Kyle said icily.
    Greaves gave him a sharp glance, as the TV report continued, 'Two of the men suffered minor injuries -'
    'Minor! Jesus!' interjected Greaves.
    '- but these were caused in a fight among themselves.'
    'Half of 'em thought it was