by Jeff Siebold
“Even cheaper on an Indian Reservation,” said Kimmy.
“Another source could be vendors who bring in contraband with their deliveries,” said Zeke.
“And the guards look the other way?” asked Clive.
“Interesting phenomenon,” said Zeke. “A number of the prison guards are actually members of the prison gangs.”
Clive said, “That’s a twist, isn’t it?”
“They’re either in the gang before they apply and get the job, or they’re made to join a gang once they’ve been hired.”
“Then the prisoners would have an inside man, so to speak,” said Clive.
“No doubt in those situations money changes hands, too, but it’s an effective way to get the contraband into the prison,” said Zeke.
“How else do they do it?” asked Clive. “Smuggle things in?”
Zeke thought for a moment. “Well, we listed guards and suppliers. I think it’s also safe to say that visitors bring some things in.”
“But surely the guards would see that,” said Clive.
“Again, unless they’ve been paid to look the other way,” said Kimmy.
Clive nodded.
“Also drones,” said Zeke. “Things like cell phones, cigarettes, drugs…even porn are flown in over the fence. Stealth mode.”
“Really, stealth mode?” asked Clive.
“No, not really, but with the same effect,” said Zeke.
“Can’t the prison arrange to block the radio signals?” asked Clive. “The ones that are guiding the drones?”
“And while they’re at it, they could block the cell phone signals. We have that technology,” said Kimmy.
“And they’re both illegal,” said Zeke. “Illegal on a federal level. The FCC won’t allow signal blockers like that.”
“I assume that someone is working toward a legal solution to that problem,” said Clive.
“They say they are, but it’s not here yet,” said Zeke. “So for now, you can use illegal cell phones in prison, and drones can fly in and out, pretty much at will.”
* * *
“Interesting,” said Clive. “So how do we plan to identify the guilty?”
“We can’t do anything obvious because we don’t know which guards may be involved,” said Zeke. “We’ll need Carl to do his best to track down the violators and get us their names and their sources, if possible.”
“He said he was making progress,” said Kimmy. “We need to be sure he’s OK.”
“Well, I don’t think we need to worry too much about Carl,” said Clive. “He’ll likely clear the cellblock if there’s any trouble. He’s a brawler.”
“Has he heard anything so far? About the contraband, I mean,” said Clive.
“He’s met a prisoner named O.Z. Carl said he thinks he’s a broker,” said Kimmy. “Says the guy can get all kinds of illegal items…for a price.”
“I’ll ask Sally to look into this O.Z. bloke,” said Clive.
* * *
“We’ll want to use IMSI’s and StingRays in Cumberland FCI,” said Zeke. “So we can identify the location of any cell phones.”
“Use what?” asked Clive.
“Stands for International Mobile Subscriber Identity catcher,” said Zeke. “It’s an invasive device that mimics cell towers and tricks cell phones into sending their location and their identifying information.”
“I’ve heard of those. They’re illegal, you know,” said Clive, thinking. “So we’ll borrow one from the FBI.”
“You’ll arrange that?” asked Zeke.
Clive nodded. “And we very well may find quite a bit more than we think,” said Clive, “as far as cell phones in the prison. Word is that a number of gang leaders run their businesses from inside. Mostly by phone.”
“Let’s see what we can do about that,” said Zeke.
* * *
“We were able to arrange for a StingRay device,” said Clive. “And an operator for it. On loan from the FBI. Do we want to use that first, get a start in that direction?”
“I think that’ll help us sort out some of the leaders,” said Zeke. “It’s a good move.”
“OK, I’ll arrange a meeting at the prison,” said Clive. “The operator, Agent Jim O’Malley, said we can use it from quite a distance, and we won’t need line-of-sight. So you and Kimmy can join him at the prison without the risk of being seen by the prisoners.”
“Good,” said Zeke. “I’ll be in the correctional kitchen tomorrow. Let’s see if we can get something going then.”
* * *
“You took over for Ronnie Knox,” the inmate said.
“I did,” said Zeke. “But we won’t be changing anything. Ronnie had a good operation here, he fed everyone on time, and made it profitable for Custom Foods. So why would we want to change that?”
“I’m Jerry. Jerry Hobart,” said the inmate. He was gaunt and pale, and he looked like he smoked too much. “I’m a trustee. I worked close with Ronnie, me and Earl Bower over there.” He pointed across the room to a black man who was carrying a box of frozen fish toward the fryers.
“I’m Zeke Traynor. Yeah, Ronnie mentioned you both. I hope you’ll stay on and help me keep this going.”
“May as well,” said Jerry. “They pay me two and a half bucks a day to work here. And it’s a lot better than sitting around all day.”
Zeke nodded. “You’ve got the menus for the next five days?” he asked.
Jerry nodded. “And most of the food order arrived yesterday.”
“I brought the rest of it with me today,” said Zeke.
“OK. Well, we’ve got a couple dozen guys we can pull together for you. Most of us have been doing this for Ronnie for a while.”
“Great, have at it. I’ve gotta check on something with administration, but I’ll be back.”
* * *
Zeke left the correctional kitchen, made his way to the Administration Building and checked in with the guards. Inside, he found the operations workshop area presently occupied by Clive and Kimmy, and a younger man in a brown cardigan sweater. The table in front of him was a hodgepodge of electronics devices and clusters of cables that led to and from the devices.
“Zeke, this is Jim O’Malley, he’s the FBI StingRay operator we borrowed,” said Clive. “Jim, Zeke Traynor.”
The men shook briefly, O’Malley setting down a pair of pliers before grasping Zeke’s hand.
O’Malley said, “I’ve gotten the wiring set up. We can activate it whenever you’re ready.”
Kimmy asked, “It’s effective for phones that are in use?”
O’Malley said, “It’s effective for any phone that’s turned on. Essentially, it works like this. The StingRay sends out a stronger signal than the surrounding cell towers and tricks cell phones in the area into switching to it for their signal. Cell phones do that automatically; they jump to the tower with the strongest signal. Most people wouldn’t even know that’s happening.”
“OK,” said Kimmy.
“Then, once it connects, the device targets the cell phone’s IMEI, the individual identifier information. Each phone has a unique one.”
Kimmy nodded.
Zeke said, “Basically it’s the same as the MEID, but the MEID has hexadecimal characters, too.”
Kimmy looked at Zeke with a question on her face.
“Mobile Equipment Identifier,” he said.
“And the StingRay tricks the cell phone into sending its exact location, too,” said O’Malley, warming to the topic.
“So with this, we’ll know how many cell phones are in an area, which cell phones they are, and exactly where they’re located?” she asked.
O’Malley nodded.
“And if they move the cell phone, it’ll alert the StingRay to its new location?”
“That’s right,” said O’Malley, a little bit smugly. “It’s pretty impressive.”
* * *
“Let’s do it then,” said Clive. “Can this StingRay device cover the ent
ire prison?”
O’Malley said, “The prison’s pretty spread out. But I hooked it to what we call a ‘Harpoon’. It’s an amplifier for the StingRay. I think we’ll be able to get a read on about half of the prison from here. Then we’ll move to the next area and pick up the rest of them.”
“Where’s O.Z.’s cell located?” asked Zeke.
“Fortunately, he’s in a building close to us, on this side of the prison. We should get him in the first sweep.”
“Great,” said Clive. “Do we know whether the guards have cell phones with them?”
“They’re not supposed to,” said Zeke. “They check them in when they come to work.” He looked at his watch. “I’d better get back to the kitchen. I’ll check in with you after I finish.”
“Are you coming back to D.C. then?” asked Clive.
“I’ll see you there tomorrow afternoon.”
* * *
“You’re replacing Ronnie Knox,” said the voice. It wasn’t a question.
Zeke, carrying two stacked food boxes, stopped and turned to see three prison guards walking behind him. He had just entered an empty hallway that led from the prison kitchen to a walk-in cooler.
“That’s right,” he said. “I’m Zeke Traynor.”
One of the guards snorted and said, “What kind of a name is that?”
“It’s Irish,” said Zeke. “Taken from the Gaelic. The root name behind ‘Traynor’ means ‘Champion’.”
The guards looked at him blankly. The largest guard, in his mid-thirties and sturdy, but with his belly overlapping his belt by a bit, said, “What the hell are you talking about?”
He said it with a sneer.
“How can I help you guys?” asked Zeke. “Other than with genealogy, I mean.”
“Yeah, well, we just wanna be sure you understand how it works around here,” said a second guard. “We don’t want you to get confused.”
“Good idea,” said Zeke.
“We pretty much run the prison, see,” said the first guard. “You don’t wanna get crossways with us, Mr. Champion.”
Zeke decided that this one, the first guard, was the leader. His nametag read “Dix”.
“I’m just here to do my job, men,” said Zeke. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“You sure don’t,” said the third guard. “But we need to make sure you understand. Don’t want you sayin’ that you weren’t warned.”
Zeke nodded. He set the food boxes on the floor next to him, as if they were heavy.
“I’ve worked in prisons before,” said Zeke. “I know how it works.”
“This place,” said the first guard, Dix, pushing his point home, “this place we got things all set up right. Don’t want it to get messed up, you know?”
“Sure,” said Zeke.
“So you understand, you may need to bring in some, ah, some boxes for us from time to time,” he continued.
“Into the prison? What’s in them?” asked Zeke. “Will I get in trouble for it?”
“No, nothin’ like that. But you’ll wanna keep your head down and your mouth shut. We’ll let you know when we want your help.”
* * *
“I was just approached by a trio of prison guards,” Zeke said. He had caught up with Clive at The Agency offices by phone.
“Indeed,” said Clive. “Did they intend to do you bodily harm?”
“Just a warning, today,” said Zeke.
“Do we know who they are?” asked Clive.
“All three were wearing ID badges with photos,” said Zeke. “Names on the badges were Cornfeld and Simpson, and the leader was Dix.”
“We should check with the Warden on that,” said Clive. “It may be wise to meet with him later this week.”
“Great. How about O’Malley, then. How’d he do with the StingRay?”
“Come by tomorrow after you’ve finished there and we’ll talk,” said Clive.
* * *
“He was able to identify fifty-seven cell phones located in the prison,” said Clive without a preamble. “All but four of them appear to be illegal.”
“So fifty three illegal devices?” said Zeke. “That’s an epidemic…”
“It appears that it’s just a lack of enforcement,” said Clive. “The rule is no cell phones. But no one seems to make that happen.”
“The guards are afraid of the prisoners?” asked Zeke.
“Or of the gangs. Or afraid for their families on the outside. The gangs seem to be able to intimidate most anyone.”
“Sure,” said Zeke. “If you’re a prison guard you probably live nearby. No more than an hour away, I’d think. And you live with your family. And considering guards’ wages, there’s not a lot of extra money for home security and protection.”
Clive nodded.
“So, like most criminals, the gangs threaten the guards in order to make them do what the gang wants. Bring in contraband, or ignore cell phones, or look the other way when a prisoner is being harassed…”
“Harassed or worse,” interrupted Clive.
“Or worse,” agreed Zeke. “And before you know it, everyone’s got an illegal phone, and everyone’s smoking illegal cigarettes, and everyone’s using illegal drugs…”
“Makes the prison pretty loose,” said Clive. “As far as discipline, I mean.”
“So the fifty plus with the cell phones,” said Zeke. “They’re probably at the top of the pecking order. Gang leaders?”
“For the most part, probably so,” said Clive.
“What’s our next move?”
“Well, O’Malley gave us a list of the individual phones’ ID numbers and such, and he ran his StingRay again after lockdown to see where each phone is located. So for most of them we know which prison cell houses which phone or phones.”
“Most of them?” asked Zeke.
“O’Malley said he can’t track the phones if they’re turned off. So he missed a few on the second go-around.”
Zeke nodded. “Do you have that list?”
Clive handed him a sheet of paper. On it were individual serial numbers in one column, the phone number next to it, and prisoner names and cell numbers listed across from them, in the last column. A few notations were in the margin in blue pen.
“These are the owners of these phones?” asked Zeke.
“Those are the prisoners incarcerated in those cells,” said Clive. “We assume that they have the phones.”
Zeke shook his head. “You could run a lot of illegal activity with a cell phone and the right outside connections.”
“I’ll contact Warden Clark and set up a meeting. It’s time we have a talk.”
* * *
“We’re here to investigate the inmate killings,” said Clive. “But along the way we’ve come across some disturbing information.”
Warden John Clark nodded.
He and Zeke were situated in Warden Clark’s office in the FCI-Cumberland. A U.S. flag and a Maryland state flag were displayed in stands behind the warden’s desk. A glass covered case mounted on the wall contained two medals.
“You were in the service?” Clive asked.
Zeke recognized the medals as a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart.
“I was. I was in Afghanistan. Operation Enduring Freedom,” said Clark.
“And you were wounded,” said Zeke. “And you saved some soldiers’ lives.”
Warden Clark looked at him.
“The Purple Heart,” said Zeke. “You were a Marine, and you were wounded.”
Clark said, “Once a Marine, always a Marine…”
“The ‘V’ on your Bronze Star, that’s for ‘Valor’. Typically, that’s about selflessly saving other marines’ lives,” said Zeke.
Clark said nothing.
“What kind of rehab do you have for the prisoners here?” Zeke asked.
“The primary rehab we use is the Prison Dog Training Program. PUP for short. Our inmates train service dogs,” said Clark.
Zeke nodded. “I’ve heard go
od things about that program.”
Clark turned back to Clive. “You said you wanted to talk about the cell phones…?”
“I do. As I mentioned when I called, we’ve come across a rather disturbing situation. Over fifty of your inmates appear to have cell phones on their person.”
“That can’t be,” said Clark. “How would you know that?”
“As a part of our investigation, we, uh, borrowed some recent technology from, well, let’s just say another branch.”
“Another branch of the government?” asked Clark.
Clive was silent.
“Fifty cell phones?”
“At least,” said Clive. “If the phones are shut off, we can’t really detect them.”
“How long has this been going on?” Clark asked.
“We can’t really tell that,” said Zeke.
Clive said, “But we’ve identified part of the problem you hired us to fix, and we wanted to be sure you were involved and aware.”
* * *
“We definitely want our personnel to confiscate the contraband,” said Warden John Clark.
Clive nodded. “So we understand.”
“But there may be another issue,” said Zeke. “I’m fairly certain that some of your personnel have been compromised.”
“You mean they’re crooked?” asked Clark.
“Either crooked, or they’re intimidated, being threatened. Or their families are being threatened to the point that they acquiesce.
“How do you know?” asked Clark.
“I’ve been approached and threatened by guards,” said Zeke. “And Carl Turow has seen it from the inside.”
Clark looked at Zeke. “Who threatened you?” he asked.
“The ID’s they wore said they were Simpson and Cornfeld and Dix,” said Zeke.
John Clark whistled softly. “Wow. Then we have a problem.”
Chapter 11
“O.Z. is some character,” said Sally, looking at the police file folder. “Says he’s in prison for having an automatic weapon. Apparently he was stopped at a police roadblock and when they searched his car they found the assault rifles. Somewhere in New Jersey. It’s a violation of the National Gun Act.”
