“I can’t do that, Darren, and you know it. Not when we’re piling up bodies faster than firewood.”
Morrow sat back down, half a smile on his lips. “Technically, we’re losing bodies faster than firewood, but maybe that’s not such a great metaphor.”
“How about meals?” Darren asked.
Timms gave him a look. “Meals?”
“Sure. It gets the prisoners out of their cells for a little bit, keeps them from going stir crazy, but they’re still kept to a confined area.”
Morrow nodded. “We could watch them, too. Maybe somebody will slip up, give us some info without realizing it.”
Timms leaned back and examined the ceiling. He saw water stains like tumors. “What about safety?”
“The C.O.s can handle the population for three meals a day. Don’t worry.”
“Fine. No screw ups, though. First hint of violence, and they all get locked away for a month.”
“Thank you, Ron,” Darren said. A smile broke across his face. “This will really help.”
“Yeah, I’m a saint.” He stood and stepped to the door. “Just remember I’m going out on a limb with this mealtime shit, okay? Anything goes wrong, it’s both your asses.”
“Right.”
“Ray, make that phone call and organize another round of searches.”
“Will do.”
“And for fuck’s sake, both of you be careful.”
Ron’s friends nodded. He opened the door for them, and they left in a hurried cluster. Once his door slipped shut again, he poured himself another coffee. The phone rang as he returned to his desk.
“Yeah, Shelly?”
“It’s the Governor,” she answered. Her voice sounded worried. “Should I connect you?”
An angry, pained noise escaped him as he clamped his eyes shut. He balled a hand into a fist and thought twice about slamming it against his desk. Finally, he said, “Sure.”
His headache boomed between his temples as he sat down and scooped up the phone receiver.
“Hello, Governor.”
Five
Diggs sat at the edge of his bed, tightening his hands into fists and relaxing them. Tightening and relaxing. Tightening and relaxing. The movement worked like a metronome, keeping time while his thoughts rolled along like a bass line.
How was he going to retaliate? He knew Sweeny had sent that skinhead piece of shit after him yesterday. If Tree hadn’t been there, the asshole might have actually completed his mission. But now Tree was stuck in the hospital, and that left Diggs short a good chunk of muscle and mean. Without the big man around, folks were gonna think they could take a shot at him. That would make things real interesting real fast.
So he had to think of something fast, some way of letting Sweeny know he wasn’t gonna turn into a pussy just because his biggest badass was shut down for a few days. It had to be something big. Something nasty.
“Hey, Diggs!”
He looked up to find a guard peering in at him. The cracker was ugly, with a big fucking idiot grin, leaning toward the bars like they were the stage at some redneck titty bar.
“What you want?”
“Just wanted to say ‘Hi!’ Didn’t know if I’d ever get the chance again.”
He felt a slight twinge in his gut. “That so?”
“I just heard your boy Tree was laid up with a ventilated arm. Bet a lot of guys want to waste your ass, huh?”
“I meet my share of bitches.”
The guard chuckled. “That’s good, Diggs. Swing those balls around. Balls aren’t always enough, though. Maybe you’ll remember that when about ten guys are airholing you.”
“And when the fuck’s that gonna happen?”
“Oh, how should I know? I don’t hear shit around here.”
“Right. Sure you don’t.”
The guard gave him a goofy salute. “Honest! Scout’s honor!” The fuck glanced around before leaning in extra close. “Just between you and me, though, I might just miss your monkey ass.”
Diggs gave no reply, just glared as the guard giggled. The guy slapped both hands against the cell’s bars.
“Hey! A monkey in a cage! That’s some funny shit. See ya around, Diggs.”
He watched the guard walk away, and his hands fell still. He knew what he had to do.
***
Ribisi approached the bars of his cell casually. He didn’t give a damn if he kept Officer Morrow standing there in his cute little pressed uniform like some impatient junior cop. There were some people you hurried for, and some people you didn’t. The guard definitely fell into the latter category.
“Finished those deliveries, huh? Good boy, Officer.”
“Whatever,” Morrow said. The twist of anxiety in his voice didn’t escape the Sicilian’s notice.
The guard’s hand darted through the bars, several neatly folded bills between his fingers. Ribisi snatched the cash away and then shot Morrow a brief glare, letting him know he was being a careless, jumpy bastard.
“Want to calm down there?”
“Fuck that, Anton. Look, I’m gonna have to lay low for awhile.”
“I thought we’d already discussed this?”
“I know. I’m sorry, but shit’s getting crazy around here, okay?”
“What the fuck’s going on, Morrow?”
“I think I might have let a word slip.”
Ribisi felt the muscles of his shoulders and neck tense. “You might have what?”
“It wasn’t anything big, but I think I might have been a little too quick to speak up on something. Nothing major, just talking about how you keep your cool, don’t let anything show. Timms gave me a look.”
“He gave you a look?”
“Yeah.”
“Jesus Christ, Morrow. You give a woman a look before she goes down on you, not when you think someone’s selling. Were you about to go down on Timms?”
“Fuck you, Anton.”
He jabbed his finger at Morrow. “I’ll ignore that comment this time, but don’t do it again.”
The guard didn’t turn away. He didn’t seem so frightened now. That was good. Ribisi wanted the man thinking straight when he laid the rest out for him.
“Now listen, Officer Morrow. If you drop clues that might get you busted, that’s your fault. It has nothing to do with me. I can cover myself. Can you say the same?”
No answer. If the man was thinking it over, it didn’t show on his face.
“Now, with the rest of my guys fenced in like this, I need you to pick up the slack.”
That got the man’s attention. “What?”
“You heard me. Sometimes you have to put in a little overtime in this line of work. Go see the regular guy for the pick-up, then get over to Unit A and make some deliveries.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
“Now, we both know I don’t do that.”
“They’re letting the cons out for meals. Your crew can move their product then. You don’t need me pulling double duty.”
“Like hell I don’t. We’re let out for short periods of time, they’re gonna have you and your boys looking extra hard for anything dirty. That means I need to look squeaky clean. Sorry, officer. You’re stuck with this one.”
“You want me to just waltz into Unit A and start slinging H around for you? I haven’t worked a shift over there in two years!”
“Like I said before, Officer, not my problem. You get pinched, it’s your ass.”
“They’ll want to know who I’m dealing for.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No, Anton. That’s a fact.”
Ribisi stepped closer, lowered his voice. “You know what else is a fact, you stupid piece of shit? It’s a fact that you’re not the only person I have working on that side of the bars, so I can get a message out whenever I need. If you get pinched, I’ll send one of those messages out, and a car will be waiting right across the street from your house the second your wife and kids step out to be whisked away to protective custod
y. Or maybe the people in that car won’t wait that long. Maybe they’ll just grab your family and disappear for awhile, and if you’re still dumb enough to think about going through with anything, I can have you whisked away too, Officer Morrow. And maybe, if I’m feeling very nice, I’ll have my people dump all of your bodies in the same fucking ditch when they’re done just so you can be with your family again.”
He looked up into Morrow’s eyes. There was anger there, and hatred. But he saw fear, as well, and it almost made him smile. He knew he’d find it there, and he was happy to see Morrow kicked back into his place.
Anton took a step back, waiting for a response, but none came. Morrow just watched him, those emotions swirling in his eyes. The guard weaved a bit from side to side, and Ribisi thought it looked like he might pass out, but the sudden blaring of the chowtime horn startled the man back to his senses.
“Hey, Officer.”
“Yeah?” Morrow asked.
“How about you do your job and get these doors open so I can eat my fucking lunch?”
The guard walked away, and Ribisi waited for his cell door to slide open. He smiled, knowing he’d rattled the hack real good. It would be a good long while before he had to worry about Morrow stepping out of line.
Six
Sweeny circled the cafeteria like a dog sniffing for a rabbit. Hodge flanked him on one side, and another of his Brothers had the other. Other members of The Brotherhood, a few of them guards, watched from throughout the room. Every one of them had a shank ready and waiting, and every single one of them wanted to use it. Something this fucking great didn’t happen every day, and all of them itched to get in on the action.
The room seemed to hush when Diggs and the rest of his tribe strolled in. Sweeny took a look at the cocky attitude and wanted to cut it out of the jiggaboo. Maybe he’d get a chance, and maybe he wouldn’t. That was the genius of his plan.
***
Diggs kept his eyes forward, but he saw all. His boys moved around him like water, and they kept their eyes wide fucking open. There wasn’t a cracker alive was gonna get in sticking distance of him. Now all he had to do was act like what he was: the baddest motherfucker in the whole wide world.
***
Marquez sat at a table with his boys. Casually, he shook a carton of milk as his eyes darted back and forth between Diggs’ posturing and Sweeny’s maneuvering. He wanted to sigh. It was like a chess match between retarded pitbulls. He kept his cool, however, watching them. He rolled his neck once, shot a glance in Ribisi’s direction. The old man tossed him a nod in reply, and he knew he had nothing to worry about.
Nothing left to do but wait.
***
“It’s bullshit,” Gino said. The contempt in his voice cut through the applesauce in his mouth.
Ribisi gave the guy a sharp glare. “Say it again, and you’re out. You think you can survive in here without a crew, just say one more fucking word.”
The thug spooned another load of sauce into his mouth and grimaced.
Anton sipped at his water and kept his eyes open. He’d noticed Sweeny and his fucks were up to something as soon as he entered the chow line. They were too well behaved, and that fucking half-smile on the main asshole’s face gave away everything. Idiots were always the most dangerous.
He saw Morrow enter the cafeteria, avoiding his gaze, and he almost smiled. No way some lockdown was shutting his fucking business down, not when he had people like Morrow under his heel. Grind down just a little bit, and they yelp like puppies and run to fetch a bone.
He wanted to savor the thought a moment longer, but then Diggs and his boys exited the chow line.
***
Sweeny had to fight the urge to hop up and down on the balls of his feet. Diggs was heading for a table no more than fifteen feet away. So close. No way in hell could the little nigger possibly get out of this one. He had six of his homies around him. Like that was gonna mean jack against the thirty or so Aryan Brothers Sweeny had on his side. He bit down on a giggle. This was gonna be huge. Enough sticking, and they just might wipe out the bangers forever.
He slipped a hand into his pocket, wrapped his fingers around the sharpened stick of metal inside, and gave the signal.
***
Diggs heard the Aryans stand a second before a guard shouted for them to “Sit the fuck down!” His boys were already pulling in close. He looked around and saw dozens of skinheads moving his way.
The guard yelled out again, and he realized it was the cracker who’d paid him a visit earlier. He was headed toward him, too, and Diggs didn’t need his GED to know the guy had a shank just like all the rest. That was cool though, because Diggs had a blade of his own, and this motherfucker was about to become Exhibit A in the Case of Do Not Fuck with Diggs.
He drew his piece and smiled. Time for some bleeding.
***
Morrow saw the commotion and moved to cut off the impending attack. A sea of Aryans was rushing toward Diggs and his posse. The bangers were outnumbered, out armed. He saw a few officers moving in already, grabbing at inmates, but most weren’t anywhere close. The air stank of coming violence.
He grabbed his nightstick and waded in. He could only hope he’d reach ground zero in time to stop the explosion.
***
Sweeny grinned so hard he thought his face might break. He was so close to Diggs he could smell him. Shoving people aside with one hand, he pulled the shank from his pocket. Come hell or high water, he was going to get a shot in on the nigger. He was gonna cut that bastard good and deep.
***
Diggs saw the tide of white boys headed his way and felt a stab of adrenaline right in his heart. He looked at the sea of white faces charging toward him and felt the first twinges of fear. There were too many. No way was he gonna get out of this without taking a shot or two. It didn’t matter, though. You did what you had to, and you didn’t waste time bitching about it.
Letting out a warcry that would have stopped a tiger in its tracks, he rushed forward. He wasn’t gonna go down unless he went down swinging.
***
Morrow cracked a skinhead across the back and sent him to the floor. He did the same to another, but there were too many between him and the bangers. It didn’t how many swings he took; he’d never reach the real trouble in time.
Morrow fingered his mic to call for back-up. He wondered how many more bodies they’d have on their hands by the time help arrived.
***
Marquez clapped his hands.
***
So did Ribisi.
***
Suddenly, a pair of Latinos stood in front of Sweeny shoulder to shoulder. More stood on either side of them. And behind them. The Sicilians were in there, too. A wall of bodies had sprung up between The Brotherhood and their target. Sweeny stared in shock for a moment. He didn’t know what else to do.
***
Diggs shoved his shank back in his pocket and eyed the Mexican and Sicilian backs that now stood in a ring around him. What the fuck was going on here?
***
Silence hung over the cafeteria as everybody watched everybody else. No one moved. The air felt like it might crack if anyone so much as breathed.
Marquez stood slowly. He stretched, old joints popping, and climbed on top of his table. He saw Ribisi do the same across the room. Every head turned to them.
“Everybody’s going to sit down and eat their lunch now,” he said.
“There will be no violence here today,” Ribisi finished.
“If you want the lockdown to go on forever then go ahead and stab the shit out of each other. Otherwise, let’s just cool the fuck out so we can get back to hard labor.”
The line earned a few chuckles. He cocked an eyebrow at Ribisi and waited.
“Any complaints,” the Sicilian said, “Can be written out on a card and shoved right up your ass.”
The chuckles turned into laughter.
Omar waited for quiet again, then spoke.
> “You’ve all seen how goddamn useless the hacks can be.”
A few shouts of support.
“As of now,” Ribisi said, “Marquez and I will be maintaining order until the C.O.’s can get their heads out of their asses long enough to stop all the fucking murders around here.”
The crowd roared its approval. Men stomped their feet, pounded on tables. The sound thundered through the cafeteria. Omar smiled as he took in the roar of support.
Slowly, the throng of inmates dissipated. People scooped up their lunches and returned to their seats. The C.O.’s moved through the group, trying to act like they’d pulled off this miracle.
Omar turned to Ribisi. He gave the Sicilian a deep bow. The old man returned it, and they climbed back down to their seats.
***
“You’re lucky as shit, Diggs,” the guard said as he slipped past.
“I’ll make time for yo ass later, bitch,” Diggs replied. He meant it, too. As soon as he had a chance, he was ending that motherfucker’s life.
He looked up and found Sweeny moving across the floor. The Nazi was glaring at him, mouthing something through those inbred lips. The skinhead shot him the bird and walked toward the rest of his crew.
***
Sweeny sat next down beside Hodge, muttering to himself.
“Fucking spics and greaseballs, man,” Hodge said. “We gonna have to kill every asshole in this entire place?”
“If we have to. Get the word in the pipeline. I still want that nigger Hall dead by morning.”
“Will do.”
“You fucking better,” he said. “I don’t want any mistakes. We’re at fucking war, here.”
***
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