James Grippando - Last Call

Charger started toward his bunk.

"You're up top," said Theo.

Charger stopped and slowly turned his head, giving Theo plenty of attitude. "Say what, dude?"

Theo gave it right back to him, his most intimidating look. "You're upstairs. That's my bunk."

Charger grumbled and started toward the lower bunk. Quick as lightning, Theo cut him off and grabbed him by the wrist. "Get away from my bunk," Theo hissed, "or I'm gonna end up back on death row."

Charger froze. Maybe it was Theo's tone of voice. Maybe it was the menacing look in his eyes. Or it could have been the way Theo's huge hand fit so easily around Charger's wrist, a strong grip that conveyed his ability to snap a man's bones like brittle twigs. Whatever it was, Theo could feel his strategy working. Nothing short of a shank could have made him back down, because he knew this was the defining moment between him and his cell mate.

The stare-down lasted less than a minute. Then Charger flinched. Theo knew he would. That was the thing about these punks. Sure, Charger was "man enough" to slug a prostitute while her face was buried between his legs. Isaac had even had the balls to sneak through a sleeping woman's bedroom window. But mano a mano, they always backed down from the likes of Theo Knight.

Charger stepped away. Theo took the clean pillow from the top bunk and tossed the used one onto the floor. Charger paused for just a second, as if debating whether to stand up for himself and bitch about it. He didn't. He picked up the pillow and quietly climbed into the top bunk.

Theo slid into the lower bunk and allowed himself a deep, relaxing breath. Mission accomplished. But he still had a long way to go.

He clasped his hands behind his head and stared up at the underside of Charger's bunk. It was dark in the cell, but his eyes had adjusted, and just enough light from the corridor enabled him to see the traces of prison artwork on the metal underside of the top bunk. Some of it was in black marker, some in pencil. There was a calendar, of course. Someone with more talent than taste had sketched a NASCAR race car zooming toward a giant open vagina. There were also gang symbols. Theo recognized some of them. Panthers. Mongroles.

Grove Lords.

Under different circumstances, he might have found irony in the fact that he was in TGK, in Isaac Reems's old cell, in the bunk below Isaac's former cell mate. But there was no irony here. No coincidence.

Everything was going according to plan.

Theo lay in silence, eyes wide open. Sleep was a long way off, and he knew better than to close his eyes any longer than necessary. That was just the way it was in prison.

And prison was where he'd be – at least for a while.

THAT NIGHT, Jack caught up with Uncle Cy at Sparky's Tavern. The old man was running his nephew's bar during his incarceration, and the place was jumping. Fortunately, Theo's arrest didn't seem to hurt business. Another great thing about Miami: a criminal record was rarely a roadblock to success.

"What are you drinking?" said Cy, shouting over the crowd noise and music.

"Nothin', thanks," said Jack.

"Scotch 'n what?"

It was way too loud. Jack spoke up. "Can we talk in private a minute?"

Cy placed a couple of beers on the barmaid's tray, then with a jerk of his head signaled Jack to follow him into the back room.

Jack had promised Andie Henning that no one – absolutely no one – would know about their arrangement. Jack had also promised Theo that, if his uncle seemed to be taking it too hard, he would make an exception. One look at the old man's face and Jack could see it was destroying him. The worry lines seemed carved in wax. Uncle Cy, however, sounded less than impressed as Jack laid out the details.

"You're saying Theo knew the cops were coming for him?"

"That's why he was trying so hard to get you out of the house," said Jack.

"He should have gone down to the station and turned himself in. Why the big show of having him hauled off in handcuffs?"

"It had to be convincing. We didn't want this to have any markings of an arranged deal."

"Wait a minute," he said, shaking his head. "You asked the FBI for protection from whoever's trying to kill Theo, and the best deal you can cut with Agent Henning is to put my nephew in jail?"

"It was actually our idea," said Jack. "Theo can handle himself in prison. He's probably safer in there than out on the street."

"How about Tahiti? I hear it's nice and safe there, too. And they only use lotion to keep the sun off."

"Running is not the answer."

"And prison is?"

"Not exactly. But it's where we think Theo can find the answer."

"Answer to what?"

Jack leaned against Theo's desk, half seated, half standing. "We all suspect there's a chain here. Whoever killed Theo's mother killed Isaac, and then he also tried to kill Theo."

"That's the theory."

"Here's the hole in it," Jack said. "If the guy who killed Theo's mother was so sure that Isaac would reveal his identity even if he bowed to Isaac's extortion demands, why didn't he just have Isaac killed on the inside? Why would he help him escape and then kill him on the outside?"

Uncle Cy considered it, but the best he could do was acknowledge that it was a good question.

Jack said, "Here's the best answer Theo and I could come up with. Any good extortion plan has a safety valve – someone who blows the lid off the secret if the extortionist ends up dead."

"But that's exactly what happened," said Cy. "Reems got shot and killed. Why isn't the safety valve going public?"

"If Reems ends up dead in prison with no help on the escape, the safety valve knows it was a hit. But if the killer helps him escape and then several days later there's a shooting behind the old Homeboy's – well, that's not so clear. Could have been a robbery or just Isaac's bad luck. Theo could have shot him. Cops could have wasted him and made it look like somebody else did it. There are countless possibilities. Once Isaac is outside, no way can the safety valve say for sure that he was killed by the guy Isaac was extorting."

"But then who's the safety valve?"

Jack smiled a little, pleased that Cy seemed to think this made sense. "A safety valve has to be someone the extortionist trusts. If Isaac had someone like that on the outside, he would have run to him for help when his car and cash weren't waiting for him at the convenience store on the night he escaped. He wouldn't have called on Theo."

"So…he must be inside."

"Inside TGK," said Jack.

It was as if the proverbial lightbulb had blinked on. Inside TGK was exactly where Theo needed to go.

"How long is he in for?"

"As long as it takes," said Jack.

"Or until it ain't safe in there no more."

"Yeah," said Jack, his expression turning serious. "Whichever comes first."

Six-thirty A.M. Theo was a half hour away from his first prison breakfast in years, and the harsh lights brightened the entire cell block.

He hadn't slept well; he was wide awake for the 2:00 a.m. head count. The count before that had been between 9:00 and 10:00 p.m., prior to his arrival. Quite a long gap, which he assumed Isaac Reems had noted in the timing of his escape. Theo wasn't sure when his mind stopped racing, and he finally dozed off, but the 4:00 a.m. count had definitely roused him. The mattress was thin, the pillow was lumpy, and the coarse blanket smell ed of a detergent strong enough to kill every germ known to medical science. Theo never really fell back to sleep.

Prison life was going to be an even bigger readjustment than he'd figured.

He sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the bunk, and planted his feet on the bare concrete floor. "Dude, whattaya think you're doin'?" he said.