Hard Time - Debt Collector 8 (A Jack Winchester Thriller)

by Jon Mills

  Twenty Seven - Riot

  There was no surveillance at the prison. It cost too much money and with a government only willing to pay one dollar per person for food each day, they sure as hell wouldn't shell out money on overpriced camera equipment. It would have also meant needing more prison guards on duty and with sixty on payroll and only twelve on shift — it spoke volumes about their priorities.

  A lack of surveillance internally and externally was the reason prisoners could get contraband, weapons and other items into the prison. Family, friends and gang members would toss over the wall what they needed. The guards knew it but couldn’t stop it. One of the last two riots that Danlí experienced occurred when security guards entered to perform searches for weapons and drugs. There was such a backlash by the inmates that the guards were driven out.

  The government wasn’t ready to spend unnecessary money, which meant few eyes would notice Jack and Noah entering or leaving Chepe’s cell. And with wives and girlfriends distracting the inmates, they could slip by unnoticed.

  When Chepe’s body was found by a coordinator, all hell broke loose.

  Observing from a place in the courtyard, Jack saw the coordinator rush over to the guards’ gate and inform them. A guard crossed from his post to a nearby phone and placed a call. His face was full of concern. Within seconds of getting off the phone he barked orders.

  Now it was just a matter of the horse finding the water.

  Guards geared up, entered the inner prison and instructed everyone back to their cells. Family members were told to leave. It almost looked like they were wrangling cows by prodding prisoners in the back with batons. No details were provided as to why they were there as they didn’t want to incite another riot. And yet by the angry looks they were getting, that’s what they were about to get. The coordinators worked with the guards to get everyone to comply. Grumbles permeated the air as inmates demanded to know.

  Meanwhile a guard and a coordinator went down to Chepe’s cell and disappeared inside. A minute or two later, they emerged. Both of them look concerned not only because they had seen the bodies but because the inmates weren’t following instructions.

  “We want answers,” one said, pushing back on a guard before being knocked to the ground. Word traveled fast inside the compound. Whispers of Chepe’s death soon circulated as coordinators tried to maintain control. But it was pointless.

  The crowd was riled up and tempers were about to flare.

  That’s when a Mara Salvatrucha member stepped into view holding the bloody M18 shirt above his head. He was yelling at the top of his voice and attracting all kinds of attention.

  A guard elbowed his way through the throng of worked-up men and snatched it from his hand.

  “Where did you find this?”

  He pointed to his cell. The guard charged across the courtyard toward Carlos’s crew and demanded an answer. Carlos looked at it, then back across at Simón and the others. He turned to his men and asked them if they knew about it. They shrugged and shook their heads.

  Carlos turned back and tossed it at the guard.

  “They planted that to make it look like it was us. We didn’t kill Chepe. Ask why it was in their cell.”

  That accusation didn’t sit well with Simón. Several Mara Salvatrucha gang members pushed their way through the crowd and yelled obscenities. Caught in the middle were the guard and several coordinators. They tried to keep them back but it was pointless.

  A bucket filled with piss and shit tissues came soaring overhead and hit one M18 in the face. In that instant, all hell let loose. Men on both sides lunged forward, crashing into each other. Shanks were produced, and blood spilled as violence erupted on a level unseen before even in Danlí.

  Jack tapped Noah on the arm and they squeezed through the crowd of onlookers. Not everyone wanted to get involved. From the tower, several smoke grenades were launched adding to the confusion. Confusion that Jack banked on and planned to use to his advantage.

  From outside the prison, the sound of a siren could be heard. It was obvious the guard had made a phone call for backup. For the first time since Jack’s arrival, more guards in full riot gear spilled out the back of jeeps and sprinted for the enclosure.

  The noise inside the prison was loud as inmates joined in the fight, beating down coordinators and guards alike, while others ran for cover and some took shelter in cells. It was complete pandemonium. Then someone lobbed in the air a Molotov cocktail, it hit the ground and ignited a wooden table. Flames crept up into the air.

  Many weapons kept out of sight were produced.

  Jack had witnessed only one prison riot in his time in Rikers, and it was quickly subdued by the guards. But this. This was a problem of its own making. Minimal government funding. A prison with a lack of security and surveillance. A warden who didn’t give a shit, and inmates who monitored each other. It was all a recipe for disaster.

  Someone crashed into Jack as he was making his way towards the north side. He lashed out with a knife and cut him on the arm. Jack retaliated by face palming his nose causing it to burst like a fire hydrant. Jack scooped up the knife and pocketed it.

  “Jack!”

  He turned to see two men attacking Noah. His eyes darted to a chair nearby. Moving fast, he grabbed it and wielded it like an axe, clobbering one man around the face before diving on him and plunging the knife into his belly.

  There was no time for morals.

  No time for second-guessing.

  Only those who fought back would survive.

  Confusion, desperation and anger now dominated Danlí Prison.

  More guards flooded into the compound with shields and beat inmates back. Even with sixty guards, and ten or fifteen coordinators, it was no match for the seven hundred strong population. Overcrowding prisons would be their downfall. The air was dense with black and gray smoke as more fires erupted and security from the towers continued to unload smoke grenades.

  Jack turned to see Noah twisting a guy’s head to one side and then releasing him. For someone who had come from a life without killing, this was his baptism by fire.

  They took cover for a few seconds inside the doorway of a cell. Jack’s eyes were on the exit where guards were coming in from. A large number remained there trying to keep back the masses while the others fanned out threatening to use sub-machine guns. The strange thing was though they could have used them, they didn’t. They were following protocol and the rules for use of power. It was the same in the police. Even though they could carry weapons, they could only use them if they felt their life was in severe jeopardy.

  The mass of inmates pushed forward like the tide of the ocean, then they would rush back as rubber bullets were fired at them. Many of them stripped off their tops and threw rocks, chairs, anything they could find.

  “Listen up. Follow my lead. Do as I do.”

  As three guards moved past their cell, Jack darted out and grabbed one of them from behind, he slammed his foot into the back of the guy’s knee causing him to buckle. The other two were so preoccupied by the inmates attacking them, they didn’t even see their colleague hit the ground. Jack stabbed him in the neck, disabling his ability to fight back and then dragged him back into the cell.

  Noah followed suit, though it didn’t go as smoothly.

  The guard saw him as he rushed at him. He turned and fired a rubber bullet at Noah and he hit the floor. It wouldn’t kill him but the pain would take the fight out of him. There was no way he could take the guy down. Jack pulled the handgun from the holster of the man he’d killed and fired a single round into the leg of the guard. As soon as he went down he rushed out into the horde of prisoners. No one appeared to look on, question or stare. Everyone was too busy either fighting or running for cover.

  Jack fired another round into the guard as he reached him and dragged his ass back into the cell. He then returned for Noah. He was coughing from all the smoke. Once inside, he put a drape over the front of the bars and checked on Noah. />
  “How you holding up?”

  “You ever had the wind knocked out of you? Well, multiply that by a hundred. Yeah. I think I can taste breakfast.”

  Jack snorted. “Give me a hand getting their uniforms off.” They stripped the guards and got into their uniforms. Noah was still bent over, clenching his stomach in pain. Jack covered his face with the helmet, goggles and a balaclava that came up over the mouth.

  Once ready, they moved out.

  “Keep your head down.”

  Though it was a short distance to the exit, it wasn’t easy. Inmates raged, striking them from either side. Jack fired several rounds getting them to clear the way as he hurried Noah through the throng of angry inmates. As they got closer to the exit, he turned his back and kept his head down while firing at the crowd’s feet.

  He felt a hand grab him from behind and he saw the boot of a fellow guard. The guards shouted in Spanish and pulled both of them back into the safety of the exit. No one was paying attention. No one would. It was fast, furious and out of control.

  Supporting Noah, they followed several other injured guards who streamed out of Danlí into the parking lot. More guards arriving on scene hurried to help. Jack broke away from the group climbing into the back of a jeep to be taken for medical attention. As they were crossing the courtyard, heading towards a vehicle, Jack saw the gate open and Lázaro’s dark sedan with tinted windows crawl in. It parked in front of the prison and he exited the vehicle, and barked commands to guards.

  “Listen up. Wait here, I’ll be right back,” Jack said.

  Noah grabbed him by the arm still wincing in pain.

  “Leave it, Jack. Let’s go now.”

  Jack contemplated it for a few seconds, his teeth grinding. He shook his head.

  “Stay here.”

  He placed Noah beside a vehicle and sprinted towards the main entrance with gun in hand. He didn’t have to worry about anyone recognizing him as he was dressed in dark security guard fatigues, the lower half of his face was covered by a black balaclava and the top half with goggles and a riot helmet. While not all wore the balaclava, others did for several reasons. Some security guards didn’t want known gang members to target their families beyond the prison. It gave them some sense of privacy and security.

  Lázaro was telling guards to get in there and use whatever force was required to subdue the inmates. He turned and looked at Jack for a second but it was only to tell him and another guard to go with him up to the tower.

  Jack fell in line. The one guard was ahead while Jack remained behind Lázaro. On the way to the tower, Lázaro was spitting orders out over the radio. A guard inside communicated that they were losing control and eight guards were already confirmed dead. The body count of prisoners was even higher.

  “Fuck!”

  As they ascended the spiral steps, Jack looked back to see if any other guards were following. Over the side of the steel bannister was a long drop to the ground. Their boots pounded the worn stone staircase that took them up to the first guard tower. Once they reached the top there was only one other guard. Lázaro turned and grabbed a hold of Jack and pushed him towards the front, telling him to open fire upon anyone who was killing the guards.

  Meanwhile, Lázaro raised a megaphone speaker and shouted for the inmates to listen, but his words fell on deaf ears. They were done with listening. In the heat of a riot no one cared about anyone’s commands, especially the warden’s.

  Jack fired off a few rounds into the crowd, making sure not to hit anyone. Out the corner of his eye he saw Lázaro set the radio down to continue his rant over the megaphone. Jack shifted position and fired a few more rounds, then scooped up the radio and dropped it over the edge. The last thing he needed was more guards making their way up.

  He then stepped back and fired two rounds into the heads of security. Their bodies dropped hard and Lázaro spun around to find Jack holding a handgun to his head. Total shock lit up his face as Jack pulled down the balaclava covering his mouth and lifted his visor.

  “Put the megaphone on the ground.”

  Lázaro dropped it. It let out this high-pitched sound then stopped.

  “Get on your knees.”

  “You won’t get away with this.”

  “I already have. Now get on your knees.”

  Jack’s eyes darted back and forth between Lázaro and the riot that wasn’t even close to being over. Attached to the wall was a fire axe, and a fire hose. Keeping his gun on him, he pulled at the hose until it unrolled from the housing.

  A split second of taking his eyes off Lázaro was all that was required.

  Lázaro withdrew a small pistol he must have had in a holster attached to his lower leg. It happened so fast. He unloaded a round into Jack knocking him back. It struck him in the body armor. There was a flash in his peripheral vision as Lázaro shot towards the door and started his descent. Jack could hear him panting hard, his boots pounding the stone. Jack groaned as he rose to his feet, grabbed the end of the fire hose, rushed towards the door and jumped over the edge in between the staircase with little thought to how long the hose went. His body dropped fast, the fire hose letting out a wheeling sound until it went out about halfway down. He jerked up for a second, then slammed into the side.

  He groaned. “Gonna feel that tomorrow,” he muttered and climbed over and started his ascent to head him off. Lázaro leaned over and fired several slugs. Chunks of stone spat as Jack continued up, keeping the Glock in his hand out in front of him.

  It was a race to the top of the guardhouse. Jack knew the second he got up there he would scream for help from that megaphone. His thighs burned with every two steps he took. Lázaro fired multiple times but Jack stayed out of view and kept moving forward.

  As Jack burst out onto the top of the guardhouse. Lázaro already had the megaphone in one hand, and the small gun in the other.

  “Too late.”

  Lázaro squeezed the trigger but it clicked in his hand.

  The magazine was empty.

  He inhaled to scream and part of it came out but was quickly cut short as Jack fired a round into his knee. Lázaro collapsed on the ground, the megaphone slid towards Jack. He kicked it out of the way, fired another round into Lázaro’s second knee. He then crouched down beside him.

  “You were saying,” Jack said with a smirk.

  “Please. Please.”

  He begged for his life. Tears streaming down his face, as he coughed and groaned in agony. Jack looked over his body. His knees were messed up.

  “Where’s my money?”

  “And you’ll let me live?”

  “Where is it?”

  “At my house, in the office. There is a safe located inside my desk. The combination is 453189. Now please. Please don’t kill me.”

  “Oh shut the hell up.”

  Jack got up and headed over to the entrance. A south wind blew in, kicking up dust and grit. He pulled up his balaclava to hide his face. Over the side the riot continued, though now the inmates appeared to be fighting more with themselves than the few remaining guards.

  “Thank you,” Lázaro said in his most pitiful voice. It never ceased to amaze Jack how quickly a man could change his tune when faced with imminent death.

  “For what?” Jack asked before stepping out and pulling up the fire hose.

  He could hear Lázaro saying something but he wasn’t paying any attention. Once he had reeled in the hose he returned and tied it around Lázaro’s neck.

  “What the hell? You said you wouldn’t kill me.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But… But…”

  Jack grabbed his face and looked directly into his eyes.

  “Did you know it takes very little strength to stop a man’s breathing if you know where to apply pressure?”

  He tossed Lázaro’s own words back at him.

  “Please. No.”

  “Keys to your car.”

  “I…”

  Jack snapped his fi
ngers in front of his face. “Keys!”

  He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a set. Jack checked the rest of his pockets.

  Jack then crouched down, and hauled his body up. Lázaro yelled but his cries were lost in the chaos taking place below. He tried to cling to him but Jack pried loose his feeble grip and tossed him over the side of the wall down into the compound. He didn’t stick around to see what happened. He heard it as he made his way down. He knew he was dead when silence fell over the prison. They were looking, staring at the man that had caused so many deaths and had robbed them of what small rights they had.

  Once on the ground, Jack rushed back to the parking lot.

  “Jack.”

  “Time to get out of here.”

  He hauled Noah up and carried him over to Lázaro’s vehicle.

  They slipped inside, he turned over the ignition and drove out the open gate.

  After retrieving the money, along with an extra hundred grand to make up for the trouble, Jack made one final visit before heading north to the border.

  José, the man that was meant to use his power to help those inside, was watching the riot unfold on television from the comfort of his office. Like many others, he abused his place of authority. No words were exchanged when Jack walked into the room and fired upon him. He didn’t even give him a chance to open his mouth.

  He’d heard enough pleading for one day.

  Blood sprayed across the TV set.

  His body slumped to the floor.

  The execution was cold.

  But justified.

  Twenty Eight - Road Home

  Jack and Noah drove out of the city and headed north into Guatemala after ditching the vehicle and uniforms. They paid a man to take them over the border and then slowly made their way north. The only upside to being on the run in a country that was corrupt was everyone had a price to remain silent.