Babychain Blues

by Tony Masero

  ‘A little excessive, but not far off.’

  Cole stared at her in disbelief.

  Chapter Ten

  They found Randy in an unmonitored storage closet next to the shower unit.

  Somehow he had found some discarded sections of nylon packing twine and knotted them together until a suitable length was sufficient enough to string himself up from an overhead-heating pipe. Not an easy death and it marked out Randy’s desperation that he would commit himself to such an end. High on an excess of heroin he had attempted to strangle himself but it had been the vomit he had choked on in the process that had been the real death of him. The death paroxysm had been violent and anguished.

  They let Gil see the body before it was removed and the slumped figure with its stained sagging jaw and glazed wide-open popping eyes over a stretched neck had revolted Gil. He had wept at the sight. All the years of suffering and then protection rose up in him and he cried out openly at the loss. For Gil it was as if a limb had been torn from him. His last connection with life on the outside now faded away from him and it left Gil with a hollow emptiness inside.

  The others in the cell paid it no more than nominal interest. Buck, for his part, was glad to see the departure of what he perceived as a liability and Demus cared little for anybody but himself anyway.

  The two carried on with their daily existence around the muted figure of Gil as he sat on the edge of his bunk and brooded miserably. Sunken in such a dark mood they were wary of Gil and knew that at the slightest provocation, he would explode. Their attempts at normalcy were strained and it evoked a disturbing atmosphere in the cell.

  For this reason and only after a suitable three day period of mourning did Buck made his tentative approach.

  ‘We got to talk,’ he said sitting down beside Gil on the bunk.

  Gil looked at him vacantly and made no answer.

  ‘You with me, brother? I know its bad but we have things to discuss. Time’s short, if you get my meaning.’

  Gil snorted through his nose and looked away. ‘What?’ he said with a twist of distaste in his features. ‘What the hell is so pressing right now?’

  ‘You know what,’ whispered Buck glancing cautiously up at Demus’ bunk, to see if the new boy was listening.

  ‘How?’ said Gil, spreading his hands in defeat. ‘How the hell can we get into that now? Randy’s gone. You get it? It’s all blown to shit.’

  ‘No, no. Listen, Gil,’ Buck said urgently, laying a restraining hand on Gil’s muscled forearm. ‘There’s another way.’

  Solemnly, Gil turned to him again, the query evident in his eyes. Buck glanced upwards, directing his gaze towards Demus’ bunk.

  ‘You’re kidding me,’ said Gil.

  Buck shook his head. ‘It’ll work. The aim was to get Randy inside the hospital, right? He’s gone but the kid’s got a damaged knee. Say it’s giving him some trouble? He’ll need treatment, right? They won’t suspect a thing, he’s a limp dick around here and his condition is legitimate. It’s not like it was one of us, they’d suspect that right off. No, it’s perfect, almost as if it was meant to be.’

  Demus crawled to the edge of his bunk at the whispered sounds below. Although his knee still troubled him mildly, he stuck to his bunk more from fear of the Brotherhood than the pain but it was true that it still ached from the hammer blow Cole had delivered and needed the support of a bandage. His broken ribs had healed and were all but forgotten he only knew about them when he breathed too heavily.

  ‘You talking about me?’ he asked the two figures below suspiciously.

  ‘Get on down here,’ Gil ordered.

  With difficulty, Demus levered himself from the bunk and hopped down to sit opposite them.

  ‘You want to get out of here?’ Buck asked him.

  ‘Sure, I do. Fucking place creeps me out.’

  ‘There may be a way,’ Buck said softly.

  Demus was excited, ‘You mean like an escape?’

  ‘Shut up!’ snapped Gil, angrily. ‘We don’t say things like that. You stupid or something, you damned fool? Every son-of-a-bitch in this place has sharp ears and every one of them would sell you out at a moment’s notice. So keep it shut and listen.’

  ‘We have a plan,’ Buck continued in a low voice. ‘There’ll be help waiting on the outside but it’s us who has to get there. You interested?’

  ‘Well…. I….’ Demus was surprised at this sudden offer of involvement after all the marginal treatment he had received from the two old hands previously. ‘I only got six months to do, after that it’s just probation. You know, is it worth the risk?’

  ‘For you, not really,’ agreed Gil amiably. ‘No, you could stay here and keep some hairy brother company on dark nights. Six months of getting your ass reamed ain’t too much of a hardship, I guess.’

  Demus shuddered, ‘Why me though? I thought I was, well…. too new around here.’

  ‘You have what we need,’ said Buck. ‘You in or not?’

  Demus puzzled over what he might have that was so necessary, he could think of nothing yet the prospect of being alone in this place without any protection from the lurking predators outside the cell was a thought too appalling to consider.

  ‘Yeah…. yeah, I’m in.’

  ‘That’s good,’ sighed Buck.

  ‘So, what?’ asked Demus. ‘What do we do?’

  Buck started to say something but Gil laid a restraining hand on his wrist. ‘You’ll get the up in good time but first there’s something that needs taking care of.’

  ‘No, Gil!’ Buck started up, already guessing where Gil was going. ‘You can’t, it’s too risky.’

  ‘Needs to be done,’ Gil said coldly. ‘For Randy’s sake.’

  Buck looked glumly at his feet and accepted the inevitable, knowing there was no way to deter the big man. It would be considered a righteous and accepted move amongst the mores of the inmates and therefore unavoidable. ‘Alright,’ he said. ‘But let’s fit it into things, make the most of it. Can we do that?’

  ‘I reckon,’ agreed Gil, sitting up straight for the first time in days and feeling a surge of power as a plan fell into place in his mind. ‘Yeah, I think we can.’

  The other two huddled closer as Gil outlined his scheme.

  Over the next few days they each went their separate ways and carried out their proscribed missions.

  Demus made application to visit with the doctor. His leg was paining him he complained, it was so bad he could barely walk. He hobbled extravagantly to make the point and at one time fell unsteadily up against the guard, which caused a momentary furor and nearly got his head busted. But it worked and he got to see the medic.

  Buck began a whisper campaign. In the unsettled atmosphere of the prison it did not take much to start a rumor and soon small clumps of the black prisoners were meeting in intense conversation. Their eyes were wary and constantly on the lookout and they moved in packs rather than singly.

  Gil went to pay homage to the old blues singer, Wee Willy Carter and also to do a deal with him. It cost plenty as the old man’s skills seemed to be in extra demand these days, but the fee was agreed and the arrangement made.

  Then Gil reached out to the Brotherhood.

  In reply, the same two turned up at his cell door, this time with the support of two more brawny storm troopers to back them up.

  ‘You wanted to talk?’ said the small fellow with the Nazi tats.

  His name was Weams and his partner was a ghoul called Fazenda. Both of them stood tensely at the cell door, their hands were in their overall pockets and Gil decided it was probable they were clasping prison-made shanks in their sticky paws.

  ‘I did,’ Gil agreed. ‘You said you wanted to do a deal’

  Weams nodded, ‘First things first,’ he said. ‘You gotta know, that thing with Randy was none of our doing. Guy does the Dutch Act, that’s his own choice.’

  ‘I know it,’ Gil said easily, as if the prison term for suicide meant little to him. �
�He was long gone anyway; it was just a matter of time. Not to worry. The weak ones is always going to fall by the wayside, don’t they?’

  ‘That’s right,’ agreed Weams, still watching him cautiously. ‘We clear on this then?’

  ‘I don’t like it, you gotta know that,’ said Gil. ‘You should never have taken him out of here. That’s trespassing on my turf.’

  Weams shrugged and spread his hands, ‘I apologize. Some things you gotta do, Gil. You know that. We have to deal; it’s just the way of it in here. We have an economy to keep turning over, same as on the outside. Only the commodities are different,’ he allowed himself a small, sly chuckle from the side of his mouth. ‘And anyway, you know that Randy was used goods and totally wasted. He was all fucked up and almost at the dribbling stage. Best he’s out of it.’

  It was an attempt to railroad Gil into anger and find out his true feelings on the matter but Gil kept his cool and met Weams’ gaze steadily.

  Fazenda standing behind Weams had folded his arms across his broad chest, allowing his biceps to bulge impressively. He began to snigger throatily. ‘Shame though,’ he growled, staring at Gil. ‘Old Randy was real tender in his day. Best tail I ever had in here.’

  Gil stonewalled him coldly.

  ‘So, now that’s out of the way, you ready to discuss business?’ he asked them after a minute of silence had passed.

  ‘Sure, what you got in mind?’

  ‘The new fish here. You said you wanted to deal.’

  ‘Where is he?’ asked Weams, looking around the empty cell.

  ‘He’s up at the hospital, getting his knee checked out. Seemed a good time to talk.’

  ‘Okay, so what do you want for his sorry ass?’

  ‘An ounce of scag and some Angie should do it, I reckon.’

  Weams pulled a wry face, ‘I don’t think so, might as well be asking for gold bars.’

  ‘The cash you’ll make off his back will pay for it ten times over and you know it.’

  ‘He’s fresh meat, Gil. Untutored in the skills, it’ll take a while to break him in. Won’t be worth diddly until then. Maybe we’ll go to a quarter ounce Angie and some Aunt Jane, but that’s it.’

  ‘We’re talking virgin stock here, Weams. Don’t go cutting me to the bone. Tell you what, how you fixed for amphetamine?’ Gil asked in an amenable spirit of compromise.

  ‘That we can do,’ said Weams with a tight smile on his face.

  ‘Okay, quarter of coke and the speed and we’re done. The sooner the asshole’s out of here the better as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘You didn’t try him yet?’ asked a faintly disbelieving Fazenda.

  ‘I never did have you’re girlish ways, Fazenda. Prison wolf like you is in pig heaven here and I don’t reckon you’re that different on the outside either. It’s the way you sway when you walk, Fazenda. You know? Kinda elegant.’

  Fazenda glowered, spat a curse and lurched forward aggressively but Weams held him back with an outstretched arm. ‘This boy of yours. There some kind of problem?’ he asked suspiciously.

  ‘Aw, he’s just your usual monkey mouth. Knows it all and is a regular whining pain in the butt. I’m up for the quiet life now; I don’t need that kind of shit any more. Reckon I must be getting old.’

  Weams relaxed visibly, ‘Well, we’ll put him right on that score. Bet your sweet ass, we will. You making delivery?’

  ‘Sure, no problem.’

  ‘Where, when?’

  ‘The Breezeway down by L50. That do you?’

  The Breezeway was out in the open but it was close to the medical center and that was where Gil wanted to be when things hotted up.

  Weams nodded, it made sense. ‘You’re aiming to pick him up when he walks out of the hospital then?’

  ‘That’s the plan.’

  ‘Good, when will it happen?’

  ‘Let you know when we do.’

  Weams nodded agreement and they clasped palms to celebrate agreement. Fazenda just glowered, and then he pointed a stubby finger.

  ‘I’ll come looking for you, Gurns. One of these days. You and me.’

  ‘Don’t get all out of joint, boy,’ Gil answered evenly. ‘You cell warriors wear yourselves out with all your hot air.’

  ‘I mean it,’ said Fazenda fuming. ‘I’ll rip you a new asshole.’

  ‘You should know all about that, you Nazi dicksucker.’

  With a roar, Fazenda bundled into the cell and Gil let him come. The whole thing had been done with intention, he needed the bodyguard distracted, not now but it would come in useful later.

  The man was not that bright and Gil had him figured, he was big but he was stupid with it. Gil let Fazenda burst in all bull-like and angry and retreated quickly, away from any overview outside the cell.

  As Fazenda bored up towards him, Gil stood with his back parked firmly against the rear wall and delivered the right hand he had become famous for inside the prison. It was a blocked fist bunched as hard as a brick and it came up with all the speed and savage energy of a runaway train. It met Fazenda full on, his forward momentum adding power to a blow that flattened his nose against his skull with the sound of two flat stones smacking together.

  Fazenda’s eyes crossed and he tottered dazedly to a full stop. Normally, Gil would have continued the demolition but he wanted Fazenda intact. The rest would come later.

  Gil turned to Weams, ‘Will you get this fool out of here?’ he begged.

  ‘I… I….’ slurred a staggering Fazenda, blinking and trying to clear his vision as his broken nose dribbled blood over his chin.

  ‘You what, Fazenda?’ asked Gil derisively as he pushed him away with his fingertips. ‘You break a nail, or something?’

  Weams wrinkled his lips and nodded at his two back-up men who took Fazenda by the arms and led him away.

  ‘Best keep your dog on a leash,’ Gil advised him.

  Weams nodded and said nothing as he turned to leave but the vengeful glint in his eye spoke volumes.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘Okay, I’ve got what you wanted. I don’t know the man personally though and obviously he does not know you,’ said Carlo. ‘I got his name through a third party.’

  The three of them were sitting in Martha’s car as before, parked outside the university.

  ‘I’m advised he will not consider seeing you unless he has some recommendation.’

  ‘Recommendation? What’s that mean?’ snapped Cole. ‘He want my CV or something?’

  ‘Something about source, my informant says. To verify the merchandise is worth considering.’

  ‘Who is this guy?’ asked Martha. ‘Just give us the details, Carlo and we’ll go from here.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Carlo, brushing back a lock of hair along with an irksome shake of his head. ‘If I’m going to get my percentage I need to be involved. I’ll take you there but I won’t be cut out along the way. Who’s to say I’ll ever see you again?’

  Martha was irritated by his distrust and her fingernails tapped a tattoo on the steering wheel.

  ‘You don’t trust us, Carlo?’ she asked.

  ‘Darling, when it comes to cash money I don’t trust anybody.’

  Cole sucked at his teeth. He had to admit the man had a point, knowing the business Carlo was in it would be surprising if he trusted his own shadow.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Tell them Besafe Securities. That should get us in the door.’

  ‘That all?’ Carlo asked doubtfully.

  Cole noticed Martha watching him from the corner of her eye and he knew she was wondering if he was being wise in the admission but Cole knew he had to give them something.

  ‘That’s it,’ said Cole. ‘It’ll be enough, believe me.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Carlo, making for the door handle. ‘I’ll give my contact a call, see what they say.’

  ‘Whereabouts is this body?’ Cole asked. ‘You can tell us that much. How far we got to go?’

  Carlo hesitated, and then he sai
d, ‘Portland,’ and opened the car door. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

  When he had gone, Cole leaned over and placed a hand gently over Martha’s tapping fingers on the steering wheel.

  ‘You don’t have to go any further with this, you know. Maybe it’s best I take it from here.’

  She turned to look at him, her eyes liquid in the shade of the car interior.

  ‘In some ways,’ she said. ‘I still can’t get my head around the idea that you did something like that. It’s just not you somehow.’

  Her hand reached up and she laid it along his cheek. It was a way of showing she was not being critical and was still with him.

  Cole lowered his gaze, ‘I guess we were all different then. Remember, I was young, not more than a kid, I’d just come back from overseas and was all full of meanness. We did some bad things over there, Martha. Things nobody knows about, not the press or TV. The army covered it all up pretty well but a lot went on that you wouldn’t want to hear about.’

  ‘I was there too, remember. I heard the stories. Trouble was we all thought it justified.’

  Cole shook his head. ‘Not that,’ he said bitterly. ‘Not those things, none of that was justifiable.’

  ‘You’re still living with it?’ she asked.

  ‘I guess I’ll carry it always. That’s why I want Caitlin to have something, maybe it’ll be enough to alleviate some of that baggage.’

  She kissed him then, her lips softly brushing his and he took her in his arms and kissed her back soundly. They stayed that way for a while and finally Martha pulled away. ‘I have to go, I’m on duty soon.’

  Cole looked at her with admiration, ‘You’re something else, you know?’

  ‘I’m a sucker for following my heart, that’s all,’ she allowed, her hand on the ignition. ‘I’ll see you tonight.’

  ‘No,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘I have to go away for a while.’

  ‘Where?’ she frowned.

  ‘To go see if I can remember where I left this stuff,’ he chuckled. ‘Be a hell of a thing if I can’t find it now we’ve got the ball rolling.’

  ‘Will you be gone long?’