by Peg Brantley
Even though people often compared Supermax to Alcatraz, its namesake never imagined the security this prison would boast, nestled in a valley at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. A multitude of motion detectors, cameras placed in every conceivable location, fourteen hundred remote-controlled steel doors, twelve-foot-high fences topped with razor-wire, laser beams, pressure pads and attack dogs all made Supermax one of the most secure facilities in the United States.
Nick believed the attack dogs were the real dissuaders. Dogs were predators. Carnivores. At their core they lived to rip open flesh and devour warm, raw meat. Other prisons might have them, but he could only imagine the extra genetic encoding the dogs at this prison must have.
“Heard the dogs barking lately?” The words were flippant, casual, but Leopold Bonzer had been badly mauled by a dog as a child. He’d endured seven surgeries: one to save his life and six more to give him a reason to live. Nick could relate.
The usual venom glinted from Bonzer’s eyes, but Nick saw something else in them too. Something new flickered behind the mask. There’d been a shift of some kind. He would wait and think this development through before he chose the direction this interview would take. And maybe in the meantime Leopold Bonzer would give him some kind of clue. If he did, it would be the first.
Nick sat back, sipped his cold drink and considered his options. Two minutes of quiet might feel like two hours to a restrained prisoner alone in a room with a fed even if that prisoner spent hour after hour alone. Nick thought, Maybe especially if that prisoner spent hour after hour alone. Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of fingernail clippers. He didn’t really need a manicure, but it would give him something to do while he waited. Weapons weren’t allowed into the interior of the prison, but clippers still passed the innocuous test.
He pretended not to notice Bonzer trying to twist on his seat, or hear him sucking air between his teeth or even when he hocked a wad of spit and who-knows-what onto the floor near the door. Instead he focused on getting just the right shape on his pinky.
When Leopold Bonzer’s face reddened, then emptied of color almost as quickly, Nick slowly closed his fingernail clippers, rubbed them free of smudges and tucked them back in his pocket. For the first time in a very long eight minutes, he looked directly at Leopold Bonzer.
Bonzer narrowed his eyes then arched his back a fraction of an inch. “I might want to talk about relocating.” Nick nodded but said nothing. Instead he leaned forward, put both elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands.
Bonzer said, “I might be ready to give you what you want... for the right hotel.”
A million questions played through Nick’s head, but he didn’t dare interrupt the process. “I’m listening,” Nick said.
“Not today. Next week.” Bonzer’s eyes brittled with intensity. You get me the paperwork so I can look at it... let me see you sign it in front of me. I’ll want confirmation from my legal team that it’s a done deal. Then I’ll talk.”
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