2954-10-28 – Tales from the Service: An Outside Perspective 

Sorab Bokori stared at the footprints hard for some time, following their arrow-straight course across the cleared zone back and forth with his eyes. That course only made sense if the escapee knew nobody in the tower above his head was looking her way – at least, nobody hostile – but could not be sure about the other towers along the perimeter. 

Sure, Prisoner 5514043 could have seen the diverted attention of the two guards on duty while she was prying the wires apart, but Sorab found this unlikely. Both of the guards would have had to have been leaning out against the angled armor-glass to be visible from below, discounting the darkness and the inwardly-pointing floodlights positioned deliberately to obscure a prisoner's view of the interior of the guard towers. No, the prisoner would have to have known beforehand before she even approached the wires, otherwise, she would never have done in the first place. 

Obviously the two guards who hadn't noticed the escape until too late were off-duty now, and would be facing a stern internal review outside the notice of the inmates. If there was any foul play suspected, they'd be shipped to the most miserable guard duty that could be found on Håkøya while that was sorted out. As these were his fellows, Sorab didn't want to think either of them could betray their duty for a prisoner, especially one who'd been around less than two weeks and who in that time had ingratiated herself to nobody. If not them, though, then who? 

Sorab glanced up at the tower again. The watchmen, of course, were watched in turn, by an automated surveillance system which would make the investigators' job only too easy if the guards really had conspired to ignore the escape. Everyone knew their activities and discussions in the guard posts were monitored. Obviously, two guards could agree beforehand to both be "unfortunately" looking the wrong way at the wrong time, but doing that convincingly was far from trivial. 

The brawl, obviously, had been prearranged, or at least foreknown, by the escapee. It would have diverted most attention toward the center of the camp, at least for a moment. It hardly mattered whether the brawlers were in on the scheme or not. They wouldn't face much punishment, anyway, unless someone was seriously hurt. The real culprit had to be someone within the camp staff, who could somehow detect when the guards were distracted and signal it out to the escaping prisoner. 

With a sigh of defeat, Sorab turned to go back up to join McCallum. This whole thing had been the most obvious escape in the history of prisoner camps. Was he thinking about this too much? Was it really correct to dismiss the possibility that she just taken a chance on long odds, prepared to accept the consequences of failure, and gotten lucky? 

Just as he was about to swipe his badge on the outward facing door of the guard tower, though, Sorab spotted a grimy smear, like a dirty handprint, on the metal wall next to the door. The guard uniform had integrated gloves, so that couldn't have been left by the previous shift. 

Sorab frowned as he inspected the print, which looked to have been left by a hand pressed against the surface as its owner pressed alongside the wall. Sure enough, there were indistinct prints in the undergrowth at the base of the wall. Upon seeing these, the first fragments of a hypothesis began to form in his head. There was no way a single prisoner could have made them and also the footprints – at least, not during the same brief escape. 

Sorab clicked on his radio. "Hey McCallum, have they finished the headcount? Anyone else missing but our gal '53?" 

The response was immediate. "Yup. All accounted for. Why?" 

"Just thinking." Sorab realized this was not particularly informative, but if he was right, he didn't want to say much out loud. If he was right, their suspicious prisoner had not been planning an escape at all – and this was bigger than he was equipped to handle on his own. "Who do they have investigating the incident?" 

"Let me check." This time, there was a delay while McCallum looked up the name. "Looks like they flew in Captain Trachtenberg from Hayden Ridge to handle it. I've worked with him before, he's good. He's probably holed up with the camp commandant, otherwise he'd be down there with you right now." 

"Thanks." Sorab glanced at the handprint again. Most likely, the investigating officer would be stopping by during their shift. "I'm on my way back up, unless you can see anything else out here you want me to check out." 

"Negative, Bokori. Come on up and finish your coffee before it gets cold." 

Sorab took one last look behind him, then pressed his badge against the armored door and slipped inside. 

What Mr. Bokori claims to have discovered is remarkable, though perhaps not so unexpected to those who have experience with the conditions (especially boredom) in a prisoner of war camp in any conflict. I will however not steal his thunder; the final portion of his account will appear here next week.