My legs weakened and I dropped my backside onto Surfer’s mattress. ‘I can’t take much more of this. I’d be better off getting banged up in solitary.’
‘Forget it. They can get to you anywhere, unless you take out a guard, and then they have a special solitary for those idiots. Trust me, you don’t want to end up in there. Better to go down like a man. Look, take my advice and stay in the cell all day. By tomorrow, they’ll have another mark. Tell me, what would you have done if he’d made a move?’
‘I’d have taken his eye out and tossed him over the railing.’
‘Just like that?’
‘Yeah, just like that.’
It was clear it wouldn’t be “just like that” but my way of thinking, from restraint to survival mode, transformed the way my brain was wired into a strike first and ask questions later criminal type of thinking. The humanity was being sucked out of me.
‘Nah, there were too many of them,’ Surfer said.
‘What, like when you took on those three guys when we first arrived?’
‘He has a point,’ Skunk said. ‘They could only attack him one at a time. Take the head of the lead snake out of the conflict every time. The rest would slither away, licking their wounds. Good strategy. On the gantry, it would’ve been like those Spartan 500 holding back thousands of Arabs.’
Rummaging around in the paper bag, I handed Skunk a peach. ‘Here, this should be good for your throat.’
‘Thanks.’
The strength returned to my legs and I climbed onto my bunk. I called out to Surfer. ‘Do you want an apple?’
‘Sure.’
I tossed an apple to him. He caught it and walked outside the cell door, signalling for Skunk to join him. They huddled over the railing, keeping their conversation low. Skunk turned his head and glanced at me, giving the impression I was the subject of their conversation. He turned back, slapped Surfer on the shoulder, and nodded.
‘What are you two scheming?’ I asked.
‘Just saying you’re not a bad guy for an ugly son-of-a-bitch,’ replied Skunk.
Lying back on the mattress, I focused on my divorce. Thinking about losing my humanity, I was finding it hard to understand why I had accepted the situation of divorce so quickly. But then I had thought about it long and hard. Maybe I had already known deep down there was nothing to fight for and Mary had done both of our children and us a favour. I pulled down my family paper chain and tucked it under the mattress. It felt as if my brain had adapted to my new circumstances so that I could compartmentalize my feelings as to “what was” for distant memory and “what is” for the here and now, as a way of personal survival. It was either that, or for me to take my own life.
The day passed painfully slowly. There was no back-up plan that made sense. Yes, I could insist on a meeting with my consul and hope she would be able to intervene. In addition, yes, I could strike a guard after Leandra’s visit and take my chances on survival in solitary. However, none of what I could conjure up could be considered a long-term solution. The day spent in the cell left me with an aching back. I eased my legs over the side of the bunk, my feet touching the floor. The light was already failing and it would soon be time for lock down.
‘Where are you going?’ Surfer asked.
‘I need to stretch my legs.’
‘I’ll come with you, but stay on the gantry.’
Wandering outside the cell, I leaned on the fence and looked across the yard. The entrance gate opened and in walked two new prisoners. The activity and conversations in the yard ceased. A group of the Perez crew walked over to them. They exchanged gang shakes and hugs. Wall lights flickered on along the gantry and in the yard. One of the new intakes leaned against the wall under a light that accentuated his features. His face looked almost skull-like with high, gaunt cheekbones, a pencil-thin nose, and ears that stuck out at right angles.
I drew back from the fence.
‘What’s wrong? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘I have. I’ve just seen my Grim Reaper.’
‘Talk sense.’
‘That new prisoner under the light, he’s one of Perez’s elite guards. If he sees me I won’t make it to my attorney’s assistant’s visit.’
Chapter 57
Sleepless Night
Weasel’s features haunted me at every toss and turn as I relived my torture at his hands. Skunk wasn’t faring much better, but incessant coughing was to blame for his lack of sleep. The scraping of keys in locks and gates grating open on their hinges brought with them a new sense of fear. Inmate chatter and the sound of footsteps on the gantry echoed into a cacophony of shrill noise, stabbing at my brain. Surfer’s face appeared at the side of my bunk. He rested his elbows on my mattress. Looking forlorn, with his gold locks dishevelled, he buried his face in his hands.
‘Shit, man, that was some rough night. Listen, we better skip breakfast and leave the yard until closer to ten.’
‘I need some water for a shave.’
‘Pass your mug. I’ll get some water,’ Skunk said.
The front of Skunk’s T-shirt was covered in blood and mucus from using it as a makeshift handkerchief. I passed him my tin mug as the cell door opened and my buddies hurried for the breakfast line. Surfer stepped outside with Skunk and they exchanged whispers before Surfer returned.
‘I need to tell you something.’
‘Go on.’
‘MS-13 has accepted a hit on you from the outside.’
The words rolled off his tongue as if it were no big deal. But the enormity of the consequences engulfed me in a fog, as if time had stood still and someone had turned off the volume. I turned ice cold. Was it government dirty tricks at work? Maybe someone was running scared of what the Perez computer might reveal. Or had whoever put out the original contract on me, picked up the bullet with my name on it and passed it on to someone else?
‘What – who?’
‘I don’t know. I doubt Cyclops is going to reveal who it is. I didn’t know how to tell you yesterday, ’cause you had enough to think about, but, yeah, that’s the buzz. You have to stay close to me until we get to the gate. After that, it’s your call, but I’d be calling your consul to get you the hell out of here.’
‘Why didn’t they whack me on the gantry?’
‘Too open, the guards could have seen.’
‘So that’s why you stuck to me like glue yesterday and insisted on us staying in the cell?’
‘Yup, that’s about right. Now it’s gotten even more complicated with that Weasel guy of yours turning up in the yard. Listen, if anything does go down in the yard, I can’t help you. I—’
I showed him the palms of my hands to save his obvious embarrassment. ‘I understand. You’ve got a ticket out to your girlfriend and daughter.’
Easing off the bunk, I stepped outside, looking furtively right and then left. Skunk approached along the gantry with my mug of water. ‘You got serious trouble. Don’t know if it’s worth you getting shaved,’ Skunk said and handed me the mug.
‘Why, what’s happening?’
‘The whole yard’s buzzing that you killed Perez and his crew want revenge. Apparently, the police gang unit had a tip off about Perez’s hideout after his death and they went in with guns blazing. The guy you call Weasel escaped and they captured him near here.They’re holding a council meeting between the Perez gang, the Cobras and MS-13.’
A colder shiver headed south, along with my shoulders. I let out a long, soulful sigh.
‘Might as well look pretty,’ I said.
Stepping back inside, I picked up the shaving foam and razor and began to work on my beard growth. A final wipe with the corner of my bed sheet and I inspected my handiwork in the stainless steel sheet on the wall that we used as a mirror. Skunk and Surfer remained silent as I stepped past them and onto the gantry. Gripping the fence rail, I peered into the yard.
All eyes looked in my direction. The main contingent of Cobras was milling around the entra
nce to the stairway to block access. The Perez crew congregated along the opposite wall. There was just one of the MS-13 crew, sitting on his haunches near the gate. Pockets of other inmates scattered around and in the centre of the yard, I could see Big Guy, the leader of the Cobras and the head of the Perez crew all talking animatedly. Weasel stood to one side of them and glanced my way. I’d seen that supercilious grin before and wished once again that I could wipe it off his face.
Weasel started a slow round of applause. The rest of the Perez gang followed. A hand grasped my shoulder.
‘Get back in the cell. You’re only inflaming the situation. What are you going to do?’ Surfer asked.
‘Man up. What else can I do? I’ve got a visitor at ten, so I’m going to have to walk or plough through them and hope I can get to the gate.’
‘The leader of the Cobras is on his way,’ said Skunk. ‘He’s walking along the gantry now – alone.’
Surfer walked out to greet him, blocking the entrance to the cell door. ‘What’s happening, man?’ he asked.
‘I don’t want you. I want to talk to your amigo.’
He talked with a slow drawl, making his Spanish easy to understand. I brushed Surfer to one side. The guy spat on the floor in front of me.
‘That’s for the DEA,’ he said, ‘and this is for taking out Perez.’
We shared a high-five, followed by a touch of knuckles.
‘So what have you decided?’
‘The Perez crew wanted to all take turns in slicing you to pieces, but we’ve invoked the honour challenge rule, on the basis that you’re a criminal now and the grudge is personal.’
‘What’s the honour challenge rule?’
‘One-against-one, to the death – no weapons.’
‘Who’ve they picked?’ He turned sideways and pointed at Weasel. ‘What about the guards?’
‘They won’t interfere. Besides, their view from the gate will be blocked.’
Exchanging glances with Surfer, he shrugged his shoulders.
Surfer mumbled ‘Fair enough, one-on-one. Didn’t you say he was one of Perez’s elite guards?’
‘Yeah, probably ex-Special Forces, so it’s not going to be fisticuffs.’ Surfer shook his head and winced. ‘Still, I have revenge as a motive to beat him,’ I said.
‘You’re going to need more than fists and motivation, man. It’s a fight to the death, remember?’
‘I could hardly forget. Come on let’s do this.’
We followed the leader of the Cobras along the gantry and down the stairway. By the time I reached the bottom, my legs felt like lead.
‘Listen. If you get through this, head to the gate – move fast and don’t react to anything,’ Surfer said. ‘You winning won’t get the hit dropped. There’s no one to ring a bell to start the fight and no rounds. Oh, and watch for him throwing dirt in your eyes.’
‘Will you button your lip? I’m nervous enough.’
The group of Cobras at the bottom of the stairwell parted, revealing Weasel standing with his hands on his hips in the centre of the yard, with a circle forming.
Big Guy’s face blotted the view as he stepped in front of me and he signalled for me to raise my hands. He lifted my T-shirt and patted me down to make sure I had no weapons. He walked over to Weasel and repeated the procedure. All the while, our eyes remained locked, like two prizefighters, each trying to psyche the other out.
‘Give me your T-shirt. He can use it to strangle you,’ Surfer said.
I stripped out of my T-shirt and handed it to Surfer.
‘If I don’t get through this, good luck on the outside and try getting a job.’
‘Yeah, well, if you do get through this, just remember you have my contact number to cut me in on any coke deals.’
Weasel ripped off his T-shirt and threw it to one of his gang. I bent down and pulled off my shoes, passing them to Surfer.
‘What are you doing? You’re not going to hurt him with a kick from your bare feet.’
I gave Surfer a shut-the-fuck-up look. He walked away shaking his head, tying the laces together and hanging my shoes around his neck.
Weasel was dancing on his toes and changing stances. Me, I was stuck where I stood, until a dig in my back from one of the inmates sent me hurtling toward him, with chants from the crowd whistling in my ears.
Chapter 58
A Debt of Honour
Stumbling to within a couple of yards of Weasel, I found my footing. The sun’s rays peeked over the courtyard wall, causing me to squint. Sweat dripped from my forehead onto my nose and on down to my chest. I dipped and rubbed my clammy palms in the dirt. Weasel circled. I followed, stepping lightly backwards in a counter-clockwise movement, away from the sun’s glare.
‘Just you and me, Kurt. Say your prayers. You’re nobody – nothing – remember?’
A sea of contorted and growling faces in the backdrop spun behind him.
‘We’ll see. You’re about to find out who “nothing” is, now that I don’t have shackles.’
Weasel feigned a blow and I flinched, stepping to one side.
‘Predictable,’ he said. ‘This’ll be easy.’ His permanent grin started to grate.
‘Dream on.’
The faces of Surfer and Big Guy spun by in the background, with Big Guy’s finger wagging in his face. The distraction, together with coming full circle to the sun, caught me off balance as a kick connected with my thigh. A searing pain sent me stumbling as I stepped back and moved quickly out of the glare, parrying the follow-through clenched fist with my upper arm. Weasel regained his balance.
‘Is that the best you’ve got?’ I asked.
‘Just softening you up, Kurt. Like back in the barracks.’
I was done talking. This was no time for psychology. Words never won a fight. I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. The chants from the throng diminished. Weasel spun his hands as if gathering invisible strands of wool around his wrists. His eyes narrowed, telegraphing that he was about to make a move. I stood loose, my arms by my side, while still circling. He feigned to the left and stuck out with his right. My hand whipped in front of my face and I blocked his fist with the flat of my hand. Stepping to one side and casting him adrift, a second blow from him hit empty air. My other hand struck the back of his neck as he stumbled past me, off balance.
‘Nice move,’ he said and wiped the sweat from his chest.
He charged toward me, dropping unexpectedly at the last moment, wrapping his arms around my legs, and shoulder-charged me to the floor. He wriggled along my body, sitting on my chest and rained down a flurry of blows on my face like a cage fighter.
A thrust of my hips and I was free, springing to my feet. Kicking out, my foot connected with his jaw, sending him tumbling into the crowd. Inmates caught Weasel, lifting him to his feet, and pushed him back into the circle. I cupped my hands and struck him, slapping both his ears in unison. The blows did their work to disorient him. The grin was gone, replaced by a look of apprehension.
He was ripe for the taking, but I hesitated.
Weasel shook his head. ‘I let you have that one, Kurt.’ He stroked his jaw with the back of his hand and then spat on the floor.
He turned away in a futile attempt to throw me off guard, and then he sprang at me. I dropped to the ground, sweeping my leg, taking away his feet and rolled away as he crashed to the floor. With Weasel face down and eating dirt, I jumped on his back, digging my knee into the small of his back, and grasping his hair, I banged his head on the floor. Gripping his neck with my biceps on his throat, my hands clasped in a vice-like grip. I twisted him over onto his side and wrapped my leg around his. For all his thrusting, it was over. All I had to do was to twist his head and he was gone.
‘Kill him, kill him,’ the crowd roared, building to a crescendo. My mind began to spin. The voices turned to children’s voices from back in my school days.
Weasel’s arm repeatedly struck the floor in submission, the life draining from his body. With m
y face touching his, I could see his pallor turn to ashen gray. Through the haze, I heard Surfer’s voice break through, ‘Finish it, it’s almost ten.’
Weasel’s arm fell limp to the floor.
‘Now who’s nothing?’ I said through gritted teeth.
I jumped to my feet. The Cobras were cheering and sneering at the Perez crew. Surfer’s arm grabbed around my throat and dragged me through the crowd toward the gate.
An MS-13 guy walked past us. I saw him pass Surfer a knife and I froze. Surfer released his grip. Skunk brushed past, taking the knife from Surfer’s hand and pushed his way through the crowd. Skunk screamed, holding the knife aloft and the crowd made him a passage as he charged through. There was just time to see him plunge the knife into Big Guy’s good eye all the way to the hilt, then the circle closed and we arrived at the gate.
‘What the hell was that about?’
Surfer fished in his pocket, took out his release paper and held it up for the guard. I pointed in the direction of the interview room and the guard nodded. Surfer nervously looked around the yard. He handed me my T-shirt and shoes as we rushed through the gate and I dressed.
‘MS-13 found out I owed them money for my shipment. I was supposed to take you out to clear the debt to satisfy the contract on your life that they accepted.’
‘What?!’
The gate opened and we both stepped inside. Open-mouthed, I was still trying to get my head around what had just happened when the guard shackled me. He waved us on to the second gate, opened it, and let us through. More guards rushed down the corridor in riot gear, brushing us aside, and exchanged words with our guard.
‘Looks like it’s kicked off big time in the yard,’ Surfer said. He took my hand. ‘Good luck, man.’
‘You too.’
‘What does it feel like to kill someone?’
‘Oh, Weasel’s not dead. He’ll wake up with a sore head and maybe he’ll realize he’s not the big man he thinks he is.’
‘I don’t know what you do now, but you can’t go back in there.’
‘I know. Was that planned with Skunk?’
Deadly Journey Page 32