She Walks the Line

She Walks the Line by Ray Clift Page B

Book: She Walks the Line by Ray Clift Read Free Book Online
Authors: Ray Clift
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was still enjoying the show.
    â€˜Has the injury caused any other problems?’
    I thought that was a bit indelicate but I knew what he’d say.
    He produced his best good old boy accent. ‘Yes, ma’am, it has. Only when I cross my legs too quickly.’
    It was too much for her and she dropped her steely-eyed look and burst out laughing. As did the audience and, from what I heard, so did the population of Australia.
    Apologies thundered in one after the other. The journo was sacked. However, I think it damaged us. Some people not reading any further would have had Martin tried and convicted. It did make a difference to Martin. Part of his mojo was gone forever. He was in turmoil some nights trying to figure out how he had been named or who named him and of course why. I had no idea back then but I did know something: my itching head after the RSL show in Australia with the woman standing with her daughter told me then about trouble looming with Yvonne Streeter. That much we knew.
    Martin phoned the White House as soon as the apologies arrived and we faxed some of them as well. He was assured by his boss (and the president) that his job was safe.
    â€˜Got any idea who the man was that gave your name?’
    Martin had some sleepless nights about how to answer that question. ‘Not a bloody clue, Sam. Guess I might find out one day.’
    The conversation petered out.
    â€˜How is Suzie?’
    â€˜Great,’ he replied.
    â€˜Oh, the first lady has a pair of size ten shoes with high heels when you get back. What a bloody buzz. I could hear her and the chief laughing right across the White House. It was after the apologies came in of course. No one knew where it was going. And neither did we.’
    We boarded a plane back to the USA and I realised how much Australia had changed since I left. Apart from seeing Shane and his family, I wasn’t keen to travel there again.

12
    Federal Prison, Washington DC
    2017
    From a high point in the communications control room, James and Thomas watched the cell with their revolving cameras at certain times. Victor Byron Marshall was due for release in 2018 and had given no trouble in his long haul since 2009. His brother Mark was slotted in there six years later and occupied the adjoining cell. They were left, as much as the guards could let them, to their own devices.
    Tonight was the night, however, a night for James and Thomas to watch a bizarre live session which provided a fair bit of amusement to the two honest guards who would never think they were voyeurs.
    â€˜Now watch, Thomas.’
    James zoomed the camera onto Victor Marshall, who was stripped naked. He lay on the top of his companion, stroking the red hair, nibbling at the ear and sliding his fingers gently on the neck, the breasts and the rib cage.
    â€˜Good foreplay, James.’
    â€˜Shush’ was the reply. ‘The major event’s about to start.’
    Victor arched his back and thrust his pelvis up and down for a few minutes and then sagged. He looked up and waved at the camera and stood up. Victor bent down and released the deflate button and watched it descend with the lookalike of his mother with the red wig flattening out. Just before it was completely flat, he jumped on the toy, grabbed the neck and squeezed out therest of the air. The guards knew what he was doing. They were witnessing a strangulation. He stowed the sex toy under his bunk and dressed.
    â€˜And they’re going to let this nut case out soon, James.’ Thomas shook his head and thought, I don’t think I want to watch any more now that he knows. It’s only encouraging him, I reckon. And the camera was switched off.
    Victor banged on his brother’s cell door.
    â€˜OK, Bro’ was the tired response.
    â€˜Grub’s up. Come on, get up, up, up,’ and Mark did because he always obeyed his brother, even when Victor sat alongside the mysterious Bill, a former bomb explosive man in the

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