Escape Clause

by James O. Born

  Hannibal now had the man cleanly by his testicles, shaking him like a stuffed toy. Then, after tossing the screaming man a few feet away, he used his teeth to shred the gray prison pants. The dog raced back toward Norton, then, when he had his master’s attention, ran back to the prone inmate and quietly sat next to him, panting lightly.

  Norton and Janzig didn’t rush to get to the injured man. Norton stopped to rub his dog’s neck. The only issues left were where he had hidden his loot and who would win the bet.

  Janzig kicked the inmate’s hands and said, “Move those hands, Matulis.”

  Hesitantly, the man complied, revealing a shredded pair of pants with blood flowing down his exposed legs.

  Norton leaned over and inspected the man’s genitals, which were covered in blood. “I don’t know, Henry, but it looks like both his balls are bleeding to me.”

  Janzig took a closer look, too, and said, “Damn,” as he pulled out his wallet and handed his friend ten dollars.

  “You gonna tell us where the shit is now?” Norton asked the writhing inmate.

  The man just nodded his head and kept saying, “Yes, sir, yes, sir. Yes, sir.”

  Bill Tasker sat in a deep, comfortable chair, trying to figure out who the guy in the suit was and why he was at the Miami FDLE office. The director of the Florida Department of Law Enforcement’s Miami Regional Operations Center was clearly annoyed to have the visitor and this caused Tasker some apprehension. As one of the chief law enforcement officers in the whole state, the director didn’t waste time playing politics or gaining favor with others. Tasker liked his direct approach on most subjects, but today he seemed a little subdued.

  The director said, “Billy, you doing okay?”

  He shrugged. “Sure, boss.”

  “Billy, this is Ardan Gann from the governor’s office.”

  Tasker stood and shook the bald, older man’s hand. His face was smooth and tight like someone had yanked on the back of his neck. He had on a dark Brooks Brothers suit with a red power tie. He wasn’t a flunky for the governor, that much was clear.

  Gann nodded without saying a word.

  The director said, “You did a great job in the bank. Lot of guys would’ve panicked. You kept cool and we’re proud of you.”

  Tasker felt a chill rocket down his back. He’d been a cop long enough to know that statements like this were always followed by a “but.” He blurted out, “Oh my God, what’s wrong?”

  Gann, the governor’s man, spoke, cutting off the director. “Agent Tasker, we find ourselves in an unusual position.”

  Tasker held his mouth and let his eyes bore into the man.

  “You see, the state attorney’s office is at something of an impasse. Metro cleared you in the shooting, but the civilian review board has some questions. They would prefer to let the whole thing drop, but it’s an election year and the state attorney herself is facing stiff opposition. She needs to be seen as doing something. At least bringing the matter before a grand jury. It all goes back to the review board’s questions.”

  The director said, “They always have questions.”

  Gann nodded but didn’t seem to want comments at this point. “That’s true. Their first priority usually is not the public but rather to make it look like they’re doing something. Do you follow me?”

  Tasker nodded and allowed him to continue.

  Gann was cool and he had a voice and delivery like a funeral home director. “The questions revolve around the idea that you could’ve not gotten involved. The reasoning was expressed that after the robber killed the manager, he would’ve fled without further bloodshed.”

  Tasker shook his head. “That’s stupid.”

  The director held up his hand from behind his desk. “Now, Billy, let’s keep this professional.” He looked at Gann and said, “That’s bullshit.”

  Gann shrugged. “No one is saying they’re right. It’s just a civilian review board. They don’t have to follow facts.”

  Tasker said, “What did they want me to do? Let this guy flee?”

  “They said that if you had allowed the robber to exit the bank, then a subsequent investigation would have identified him and he would not have been gunned down. Or as one review board member said, ‘executed.’ ” He paused. “They sounded more concerned with the young robber’s life than anyone else’s.”

  Tasker was about to answer when his director spoke up. “If a member of the review board used the word ‘executed,’ the governor should remove someone so inflammatory and uninformed.” His dark complexion flushed red.

  Tasker was impressed with the support and with the professional comments coming from a guy who had been on the Special Operations Team with him years before.

  Then the director added, “Assholes like that make our job fucking unbearable.”

  That sounded more like the director that Tasker knew. Now he spoke for himself. “Mr. Gann.” He paused and gathered his thoughts. “Having been in a position where I was in legal limbo for an extended period, I would say to you, if the state attorney is going to charge me, she should do it now. If not, allow the grand jury to issue a no true bill and let me get on with my life.”

  Gann said, “I was going to tell you we have an alternative.”

  “To what?”

  “To the entire grand jury. Clear you right now, no questions asked.”

  “How?” asked Tasker, looking for the trap.

  “We need help and FDLE is in a position to provide it.” He looked at the director, then back to Tasker and said, “The Dade state attorney needs some money and we have a grant being held for them. FDLE helps us, we help the state attorney and they help FDLE. Everyone wins.”

  Tasker added, “Except me.”

  The director looked at Tasker. “Billy, that’s not fair. Hear Mr. Gann out.”

  Tasker stood, and felt his blood race through his head. It was starting to feel like he was being singled out. The word “persecuted” came into his mind. “It was a good shoot. I had no choice and I did it in defense of life. That’s what the statute says, isn’t it?” His voice was louder than he had intended.

  “In the era of kinder, gentler police work, review boards don’t want to hear shit like that.” The director stood up and walked from behind his giant desk. “C’mon, Billy, it’s not what it looks like. Of course it was a good shooting. I just felt you needed a break and this way you can help yourself, help FDLE and not have to hassle with a civilian inquiry. Listen to the assignment. It’s voluntary. You think someone is trying to hurt you, turn it down. But this was my idea, too. I’m worried about you. This could work out.”

  Tasker took a deep breath. “How?”

  Gann said, “Are you familiar with Manatee Correctional in Gladesville?”

  “I’ve heard of it. Never been out there. It’s only been open a few years, right?”

  “Four years, to be exact.”

  “What has a state prison got to do with me?”

  “An inmate was killed there about five weeks ago. The county looked into it briefly and the Department of Corrections is continuing the investigation, but so far no one has determined the identity of the killer.”

  “Why’s the governor interested in a single homicide in a prison? They happen all the time.”

  “In this case, it’s the victim. A young man named Rick Dewalt.”

  “And?”

  “His family has ties to the governor, and they don’t believe it should be that hard to find a killer in a confined space like a prison.”

  “Except that there are a thousand potential suspects and no one will help with the investigation.”

  “See, you’ve already caught on to our problem.”

  “What’s the story on Dewalt?”

  “His father is a big contributor to the governor’s campaign and a local builder in Palm Beach County. The son went to Central Florida for a few years to major in mathematics, even did a semester at Oxford, but too much partying and a wild girlfriend led him d
own another path. After a few years as a land surveyor, he got involved in marking landing strips for planes loaded with cocaine. Got off the hook once with three years’ probation, but got caught again and the judge sent him to Manatee for ten years. He had only been there a year when they found him outside the lockdown facility, choked to death.”

  Tasker looked at him, not sure he knew how to speak to the buttoned-down governor’s aide. “What do you think I’ll turn up that others have missed?”

  “Doesn’t really matter.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Just have to convince the family we’re doing all we can.”

  Tasker had seen these types of investigations before. They were usually pawned off on an agent who didn’t have anything big going on. It was an incentive to hardworking agents to be involved in major cases all the time.

  The director stood up behind his desk. “Billy, I’m the one who floated your name. You need this. Not just because it shuts up the stupid review board, but because it gets you away from Miami for a while. You’ve had a lot of shit happen the last few months.”

  Tasker looked from his boss to Gann. “I’ll have to commute out there?”

  The director said, “No. No commute. Temporary duty. We have some state employee housing out there.” He walked around the desk and put his arm around Tasker. “Look, Billy, like I said, you been through a lot. The FBI shit, the Daniel Wells case and now this shooting. Jesus, there hasn’t been a month in the last six you weren’t either under investigation or recovering from on-the-job injuries. You need a break. Find out what’s important. I’m personally worried about you, Billy. I could get anyone to look into this thing. It just happened to come up and you need this now.” He slapped Tasker on the shoulder. “A few months in the country will be just what the doctor ordered.”

  Tasker just looked at him.

  The director said, “I’m serious. The psychologist we hired agrees. You’re on the edge. He’s afraid you’re starting to see everything as your duty. He’s opposed to you coming back to full duty right now.”

  Tasker nodded as he accepted his fate.

  The director added, “It’s even in the same county as your kids.”

  Tasker realized that even with all the reasoning, it still wasn’t a request. He immediately started thinking of what he should pack.

  three

  Tasker let his full one hundred and eighty pounds bounce onto the trampoline and watched Emily fly ten feet into the air. He hit the next one and she landed on her butt and laughed for a full twenty seconds. He was taking extra time with her since the shooting. Her mother had sent her to a counselor and Tasker worried every night how the incident might have affected her. Right now it didn’t appear to be much of an issue. He flopped next to her, making her pop up again, only this time not as high.

  Kelly, his ten-year-old, climbed onto the trampoline and started to bounce her sister, too, causing them both to giggle wildly. Tasker could see that Kelly was concerned about her younger sister, too. There had been none of the usual petty rivalry or bickering since the morning Emily had seen her dad shoot a man three times.

  Sometimes, when he least expected to be thinking about the shooting, he found himself staring at the lifeless young man’s face or thinking about how his mother must be feeling. Late at night he’d feel anger at the robber for killing the pretty bank manager. Lately he’d focused his anger on the inept and useless civilian review board. They were just making noise more than anything else. But the noise hurt. After doing what he thought was right, he was being second-guessed by a bunch of people who had never even heard a gunshot. He worked hard to bring his consciousness back to the present and play with his girls again.

  He scooted to the edge of the trampoline.

  “Please, Daddy, a few more minutes,” they both pleaded.

  “Give me five minutes to talk with your mom and I’ll be back.” He leaned over and playfully bit Kelly on the big toe, then walked to the covered patio behind the house.

  Donna, his ex-wife, handed him a glass of punch. He took a sip, then looked at her. “What’s this?”

  She smiled that brilliant smile and said, “Rumrunner.”

  “I shouldn’t.”

  “It’s Saturday, you’ve earned it.”

  “But I’m in the state car. I got that drive out to Gladesville.” He shrugged and took another sip.

  “Why are you going out there on a Saturday, anyway?”

  “Why, want me to stay?” He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows. In case she said “no,” he could claim he was joking.

  She cocked her head like a puppy, but didn’t answer.

  He took the hint and answered the question. “Want to settle in and look around. Monday I hope to hit the ground running.”

  “You never change. Whatever the assignment, you go a hundred percent.” She didn’t smile now. They had already had a “discussion” about the bank shooting. As upset as Donna had been that Tasker would do something that dangerous with Emily present, she’d realized he was even more upset. He had always been hard on himself, and in most cases he deserved it, but in this case he’d weighed the options and done what he felt he had to do. His ex-wife saw that and had told him she knew the anguish he felt over it. He was just happy that this was an easier “discussion.”

  He sat in a lounger and took another sip of his rumrunner, letting Donna’s mind wander to a more pleasant subject than his focus on his work. Finally he said, “At least Gladesville is closer when the kids visit.”

  “You want them to come out to the Glades?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be out there awhile. I didn’t expect not to see them.”

  She brushed back some strands of her naturally blond hair. “It just seems so isolated.” She shrugged her bare shoulders and gave a slight shudder, as if the thought of being an hour away from a mall might cause permanent internal damage.

  “Where was the murder? Which prison?” she asked.

  “Manatee Correctional.”

  “The one just past South Bay?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, in Gladesville.”

  “How tough can a prison named ‘Manatee’ be?”

  “We laughed about that at the office a little.”

  “It’s just so far away.”

  Tasker offered, “It’s still Palm Beach County.”

  “No one thinks of it like that. But I suppose it won’t hurt the girls to see someplace new. And this homicide investigation won’t put you in any danger. The crime already took place. That’ll be a nice change, not worrying about you.”

  “I haven’t done too many homicide investigations, but this is a little different. It’s more of a historical investigation. The crime scene is gone, all that’s left is photos and reports.”

  “No one shoots at you or tries to blow you up when you’re doing a historical investigation.”

  He nodded, absently reaching up to massage his sore shoulder then finger the scar on his forehead.

  “That’s at least a step in the right direction.”

  Tasker smiled, looking at her clear, blue eyes. He wanted her to ask him to stay the night. He said, “What about you? Will you come out?”

  She smiled at the invitation. “We’ll see. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea if I do.”

  “What’s the wrong idea?”

  “That we’re back together. I’m not ready.”

  “I know, I know. Until you’re sure Nicky Goldman isn’t going to land the biggest class-action lawsuit of all time, you want to keep your options open.”

  She punched him hard in the arm. “You know that’s not true. Nicky and I have something small and sweet.”

  “Not unlike Nicky himself.”

  She punched him again.

  Luther Williams looked in the mirror as he spoke to the younger inmate. Luther liked to make sure he was as sharply dressed as could be managed in the standard gray correctional tunic. He also had his favorite weapon, a thin strip of metal with an extremely point
ed edge that used to be some form of oil dipstick for a vehicle. He had given two packs of Camels, eight dollars and a month’s worth of protection for the fine weapon. On the street it would be effective, but in here it was the equivalent of a nuclear weapon. It slipped into his waistband whenever needed and unless he was going out the gate as part of his trustee duties and passed through a magnetometer, no one suspected him of being armed.

  He kept his gaze in the rough, round mirror mounted on the wall next to his bunk as he spoke to the thirty-three-year-old black man standing next to him in his dorm.

  Leroy asked, “What d’you need that long ass shiv for?”

  “Purely for protection, my boy.”

  “Protection from what?”

  “Not what, who. You never know who is going to try and get over on you in here.”

  Leroy shifted in his heavy work boots. “Anyway, you said you knew a way out of here if someone was willing to risk it.”

  “Yes, Leroy,” started Luther, “I know of a fault in the system. You could get out.” He always worked to keep his voice calm and soothing. It never hurt to lull people with whom you were dealing.

  “What’ll it cost me?”

  “Why do you assume that this consultation will cost you?” Luther reverted to his lawyer’s persona during any formal business negotiation.

  “Because you ain’t known as a charity.”

  Luther smiled as he considered the younger man’s comment. “I suppose not. But let’s say this is my way of helping out another brother.”

  “Like you helped out Tannis Brown.”

  “Mr. Brown tried to steal from me. He was warned about that and chose to ignore the warning.” Luther looked at the other man for emphasis. “I’m sure when Mr. Brown gets out of the infirmary, he will understand the rules better.”

  Leroy Baxter nodded his head. “Then what zactly is this fault in the system?”

  “I’ll tell you when you’re ready to go. It’ll be easy if we do it near the six o’clock shift change.”