Vincent Zandri - The Innocent

“I was all set for leaving the country once Eddy managed the escape. If he could manage the escape, which turned out to be a piece of cake.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “There never were any masked bandits to steal Vasquez away from Bob Logan or Bernie Mastriano.”

“On Tuesday Eddy and I heard Logan’s story on television. He was nearly in tears he laughed so hard. Especially the part about those two taking a terrible beating. Don’t you see, Keeper? Once Bob Logan and Bernie Mastriano discovered Eddy and me missing from the hotel rendezvous in Newburgh, they must have panicked and beat each other up just to make it look like they were attacked by a bunch of ‘shotgun-carrying assailants.’ “

“Okay,” I said, tossing another log onto the fire. “So you were free. What next?”

“We had our cut of the money to live on, plus Garvin’s. More than enough to start over in Mexico or South America. But then Eddy got greedy. Once he was out, he turned the tables on Pelton. Told him that if he didn’t get more money, he’d expose the entire operation. He threatened to send an anonymous letter to The New York Times. He would accuse the entire department, including Pelton’s main man, senatorial hopeful John ‘Jake’ Warren. The accusation itself, Eddy figured, would be enough to make Pelton jumpy. So instead of heading directly to the California desert, which had been the original plan, we holed up in Athens.

“But it all went bad because something happened that none of them had counted on. Pelton retaliated. He made you take the fall for Eddy’s escape. He set you up, Keeper, as a scapegoat for the entire deal. He made you take the fall not only for Eddy’s escape but for Logan and Mastriano’s misfortune in the field. He managed to get to you just as Eddy was getting to him. And, after all, you’d signed those releases. It was something no one had counted on and it made Eddy’s plan completely worthless so long as the cops bought into it. You’d been a tough man to get around during the first couple of years of your appointment, Keeper. You were shaking down cells, drug-testing inmates and guards. Eddy was even aware of the wiretaps you’d planted on a few of the guard and inmate informers. But then something happened to you, some kind of shock. Your wife died and you backed off. You kind of retreated into yourself. Maybe you didn’t realize it at the time, but you must have been clinically depressed. One thing was for sure, things got easier for Eddy then. That’s when he said yes to Pelton’s plan-only a few weeks or so after your wife was killed.”

Cassandra said nothing for some time. As for me, I thought about melting into the woodwork. Since that was impossible, I went to the window, pulled back the shade, and looked out onto the blackness of the early morning. I took a breath and glanced at my watch again. Four in the morning. In just two hours’ time, it would be daylight. “I found photographs of you and another man inside Vasquez’s cell,” I said, finally.

Cassandra swallowed a breath and chased it with some wine, as if the breath were that bitter.

“Pelton began to demand a different kind of payoff,” she exhaled. “That is, once Eddy was safely behind bars after each of his field trips outside the prison gates. At first I kept the news from Eddy. But then I told him because I didn’t know what to do anymore. I didn’t know how to make Pelton stop. But do you know what Eddy told me? He told me he expected me to do exactly what Pelton wanted. When it came to Wash Pelton, he said, neither of us was bargaining from a position of power.”

She took another deep swallow of the wine.

“But there was a way to get back at Pelton without him knowing,” she said. “Eddy came up with the idea of making the still photos, since I couldn’t exactly send a video to him inside the prison.”

“VCRs are hard to come by inside the iron house,” I said.

“Exactly,” Cassandra said. “We could somehow use the stills against him. That is, if we could get them into the right hands, at the right time. In order to make it work, I had to steal a video while I was with Pelton. Then I’d have the stills made and I would ship them to Green Haven. Eddy would take care of things from there.”

“Tell me,” I said, feeling sudden warmth from the thousand-watt bulb that ignited inside my brain, “is Schillinger on the video, too?”

Cassandra looked at the floor surrounded by the half-light from the dying fire.

“Yes,” she said, “that creep, Schillinger, too.”

Why couldn’t I have seen through the forest earlier? I pictured the three stills I’d found in Vasquez’s cell. The unidentified man with the scar on his neck just above the breastbone. It was Pelton all along. The scar left over from the blade the rebel inmate had pressed up against his throat during the Attica riot. I thought I’d found the photos by accident. Now I knew they had been planted by Vasquez for someone to find, for someone to use against Pelton. That someone had to be me all along. He must have known I’d shake down his cell once he escaped. And then I went and handed them over to Marty Schillinger, who couldn’t grab them out of my hands fast enough.

“You could have done better with the stills,” I said, stepping away from the window, back toward the fireplace.

“You can hardly make out Pelton. And you didn’t get Schillinger at all.”

“The video is that bad,” she said. “It was the best I could do. I mean, it’s not easy trying to convince a video mechanic that the skin flick you’d like to have transferred to stills is purely for your own enjoyment. And think of it this way. Pelton’s been in the news a lot lately. Can you imagine the attention I would have gotten if I’d left it up to a total stranger to develop a clear photograph of Pelton in bed with two other people-one of them another man, the other the girlfriend of a convicted cop-killer? Jesus, Keeper, I had to be a little smarter than that. I had to take another route.”

I knelt down next to Cassandra.

“So now what?” she said.

“We’re going to get that video back,” I said. “And the money.”

“It’s in Olancha, like I told you. It’s all inside the same big box.”

“I have friends who can take care of getting it back,” I said. “In the meantime, you have to stick with me. You and that video are my way out of this mess. I’ll see to it that you get some sort of immunity by testifying against Pelton and the rest of them, even if they do try and charge you as an accessory in Eddy’s escape once we’re cleared of his murder. I’ll see to it that you get the money you need and a one-way ticket to Mexico.”

“No way in hell,” Cassandra said, slapping the wine bottle down on the plank floor and knocking over one of the empties. “I’m not about to testify for anybody or anything.” She started to lift herself up from the floor, but I reached out, grabbed hold of her arm, and pulled her back down.

“You’re hurting me,” she said, gripping her forearm where I had taken hold of it.

“You are going to testify because I’m going to make it all right for you,” I said. “Don’t you understand? We prove you were a victim of circumstances, the courts go easy on you.”

Cassandra relaxed her grip and looked down at her lap.

“I’ve done questionable things,” she said, under her breath.

“You’ve also done nothing they can keep you in jail for. So long as you agree to cooperate.”

She raised her head.

“Well then, what if I don’t want to go to Mexico, after all?”

“Even if you’re off the hook, you’ll always be looking over your shoulder. Pelton’s a powerful man. Who knows what kind of connections he’s got. That dead man outside in the overcoat is proof. The way I see it, you’ve got no choice. But before we do anything, I’ve got to get Mike Norman, Wash Pelton, and Marty Schillinger in one place at one time.”