Not a big bloke, but sure of himself, again comparable to his erstwhile friend, who he thought about often. Even when Mr Parkes was being affable he never lost his air of toughness. Just like Johno if you were stupid enough to take him on. ‘Mr Parkes …’ Shane began. Parkes had been brought in from another prison to run the joint. Only mid-thirties the inmates assumed they’d eat him alive. Didn’t take them long to find out his first name — Bruce, Brucie to the cheekier ones — and try this out when called to his office. After half a dozen immediate ejections the message was clear: Mr Parkes it was and he was the boss.‘I have a problem,’ Shane began hesitantly. Parkes just nodded, kept full eye contact. ‘You see—’Then the superintendent cut him off. ‘Internal problems I can at least give a hearing, as often as not a solution,’ said Parkes still with that slight smile in his eyes but not on his mouth. ‘Is it internal or external?’Shane didn’t think of the free outside world as external.
