“I’m fine,” he answered calmly and picked Mike up to half-carry him into the shower room. Mike was still so dazed from the impact with the sink that he collapsed under the spray. Keelan turned on the water before getting under another spray still with his pants on. The water turned red, and Mike followed the twisting and meandering pattern of the blood on its way to the drain. It cleared his head somewhat.
Rainer stood in the doorway and watched as Sal returned with two men.
“Pick that up and get rid of it!” Rainer said. The men picked up Keelan’s latest victim and rolled him up in plastic. “Wait.” Rainer stopped them on their way out. “Let them see the head as you carry it away. They might as well learn the consequences now.”
The cleaners nodded and freed the head from the plastic. They placed it on top of the body and carried it away—to the two big iron doors where corpses were placed for the guards to dispose of.
Rainer stood silently and watched as Keelan rinsed the blood off himself. His injuries became visible—his face was bruised and swollen, his knuckles were swollen, and a few were scraped enough to bleed. The majority of the right side of his chest and abdomen was bruised as well.
So, the fucker was left-handed, Mike thought as the fog from the impact with the sink subsided. He managed to pull himself up on his feet, but he didn’t feel steady enough to let go of the pipes yet. Rainer made a gesture, and two followers came in with towels for both Keelan and Mike. They dried off, and Mike put some clothes on. Keelan kept his wet pants on and didn’t bother with a shirt. It was obvious that they both needed stitches after the ordeal.
Back in their cell, Keelan guided Mike to sit on a chair and turned his face upward to be inspected.
“You look like hammered shit,” Mike said.
“You’re not a box of cuteness yourself, you know.”
“I didn’t see him.”
“Good thing I did.”
Mike nodded and looked down, trying to hide his confusing feelings. Then he turned in the chair and vomited again—only missing the toilet by a foot.
“How good are you at stitching people up?” Keelan asked.
“With one eye?”
“I’ll ask the physician to look you over,” Rainer said. “A mean son of a bitch, just don’t talk to him.”
“A con?” Keelan asked. Rainer nodded and looked to a follower who left them, looking pale. Keelan perched on the edge of his bunk. “How much?”
“Well, you crossed a few things off the list as you found them in the Blood Brothers’ cell so I guess we could call it even after this,” Rainer said.
“Can I add one more thing?”
“Still making demands, are we?” Rainer asked with a sly smile.
“More like a request,” Keelan said. Rainer was still smiling. “Have one of your boys get us breakfast?”
“Only breakfast, you’ll have to get lunch yourself.”
Keelan nodded and looked at Mike. Something in his eyes seemed different, Mike thought. Apologetic?
The most unsympathetic person Mike had ever seen stepped through the door, followed by Rainer’s follower. The man had a leather bag in one hand and a doctor’s coat on. Never in his life had Mike seen a physician spread terror by his mere presence. Nothing about his persona could make a man with a double dose of tranquilizers in his blood calm down. Mike didn’t know whether it was the white but dirty coat combined with eyes lacking any sign of humanity and empathy that caused it, or if it was the white coat and the man’s persona in general. Either way, that somewhat-white coat was scary. The physician looked to be in his late thirties, but his steel-gray eyes were cold and seemed old. Mike didn’t doubt that the man had seen more than most.
“Who’s first?” the physician asked, giving them an uninterested look-over.
“Me.” Keelan got up to switch seats with Mike. It wasn’t until then Mike noticed that Keelan was leaving a trail of bloody footprints, and a gash was revealed as he lifted his foot to perch it on the edge of the table so blood could drip onto the floor.
“I don’t have any anesthetics, but you’re a big boy. You’ll handle it,” the physician said monotonously. Keelan didn’t respond—he merely leaned his head back and let the physician begin his work.
“Next.” The physician waited for Keelan and Mike to switch seats, then looked him over. “Better be careful with you. Such a pretty boy.” The physician sent Keelan an inquisitive look. Mike felt his stomach drop, and he looked to Keelan. All friendliness left Keelan’s expression, and a low rumble escaped him while he crossed his massive arms across his chest, making him look impossibly huge. The physician nodded and began working on patching Mike up.
Two followers came in with trays of food just as the physician was finishing up with Mike. The physician packed his bag and walked to the door. Then he stopped at turned to face Keelan.
“Decapitations are usually a messy affair... uncontrolled. I’ve seen the head and the neck it was once attached to. Nice work. Not messy at all.” The physician left, leaving Keelan with a puzzled expression.
“Feel better.” Rainer left, leaving Mike to consider Rainer’s ability to make even such a wish sound like an order.
Keelan moved to sit by the table and pushed a tray closer to Mike. Neither of them spoke as they consumed their food in pain.
“Thank you,” Mike said, quietly. Keelan looked at him, and something in his eyes seemed to soften. But he didn’t say anything. He merely nodded and turned his attention back on his food.
They both healed nicely, and for five days no corpses were left by the two big doors. No one bothered Keelan, and it was as if an invisible radius had formed around Mike. No one even dared bumping into him.
Keelan waited for the next job. Mike continued the lessons, and even though he found it slightly alarming that Keelan retained everything as if the lessons were repetitions and not a whole new subject, he continued to teach as much and as fast as Keelan could absorb.
Rainer provided the library access, so Mike and Keelan spent numerous hours there, because it gave Mike the visual material to teach from. The more physical part of the lessons proved that Mike was not as weak as many might think from his meek behavior, but being an owned fish who’d collected the bounty of at least four cons made all the difference in the worlds. No one fought fair, and rarely one on one—especially when the victim was someone without any security from stronger prisoners.
Mike caught Keelan working and studying late at night, but he never said or did anything that would let Keelan know that he knew. These were the hours that could result in more black eyes if he disturbed him. One night Keelan snuck out in the middle of the night, leaving Mike alone, but Mike kept quiet about it. It wasn’t normal for Keelan to leave Mike alone, though. A few hours later Keelan snuck back in and hid something. Mike didn’t see what or where, but Keelan seemed happy as he lay back in his bunk and sighed contently.
Everything was quiet in the canteen, if one could use that word about a room with more than five hundred prisoners gathered at the same place. No one was trying to kill or maim each other, so that counted as quiet, even though arguments were still loud enough to carry across the room.
Rainer and his followers left their table and made their way through the canteen to Keelan and Mike. Mike scooted in to make room for Rainer across from Keelan, who didn’t move. All remained silent until Keelan had finished his waffle and moved on to his coffee.
“Second job,” Rainer said. Keelan looked up from his coffee.
“Who?” he asked and eyed the whole of the canteen discreetly. Mike only noticed because he was looking at Keelan, and he felt a moment of admiration for a person who could learn and master such a difficult technique in such a short amount of time. Rainer’s eyes held the same fascination, but there was something else there, too. Fear?
Mike waited eagerly, but Rainer and Keelan exchanged no more words. Rainer and his entourage left, and Keelan got up collecting his tray.
“Wh
at was that? A target, but no ID?” Mike whispered. Keelan gave him a stern look which Mike interpreted as shut up, so he did. They carried their trays to the rack, and it wasn’t until Keelan let go of his tray that Mike noticed Keelan had used him as cover to hide a picture. He didn’t take it out again until they were back in their cell.
“Give me a minute.” Keelan sat down to study the picture. Mike sat in Keelan’s bunk and went through the notes for the day’s lessons. Suddenly Keelan jumped to his feet and turned toward the door in a fighting stance. Mike jumped and stared at him puzzled. Then someone knocked on the door, and Mike’s shock was replaced with amazement.
How did he know someone would knock?
“Come in!” Keelan relaxed his pose.
Sal stepped through the door quickly and shut it. “Please don’t tell Rainer that I came to see you.”
“That would depend on your reason to come and see me,” Keelan said.
Sal seemed more nervous than usual. “Do you know him?” Sal pointed to the photo in Keelan’s hand.
“No.”
“I do. He’s on second, east wing. He’s a courier.”
“And?”
“Rainer is eliminating competition. He’s gathering more power.”
Keelan nodded indifferently, but Sal’s nervousness made even Mike tense up. The information was the kind Mike would keep very close to heart if he were in the middle of a hostile takeover.
“I have to go. Keelan, be careful.” Sal left as quickly as he’d entered. Keelan stared at the door. Then he turned to Mike with a puzzled expression on his face.
“Is he bad news?” Mike asked. Keelan shrugged, but his eyes told of deep thought. “Fine. Next lesson is tactical evasion and negotiation.”
“Negotiation?” Keelan exclaimed.
“I have noticed that you prefer negotiating with your fists or a knife, but those are not always the most beneficial ways. Let me rephrase. To negotiate is to mind-fuck people into dancing to your favorite tone.” Mike smiled, sprawling comfortably on Keelan’s bunk.
“Mind-fuck, huh?” Keelan smiled and nodded. “Well, let’s get to it.”
Keelan made a new shiv from a broken hinge while Mike taught. Much later that evening, Keelan and his new shiv slipped out to find the currier. An hour later, he came back and went to bed. However, there was no content sigh that escaped him, so Mike kept quiet instead of asking how it went.
Even the next morning Keelan seemed restless, so Mike said nothing as they went to the canteen. Rainer called Keelan out of the food line as they were halfway through. Mike tried to listen in and kept his eyes on Rainer’s lips to catch the part of the conversation he couldn’t hear.
“I heard a little birdie sing about a currier with a hole in his neck,” Rainer said. Keelan nodded, still looking irritated. “A helpless man?” Amusement danced in Rainer’s brown eyes. Keelan leaned forward.
“You said dead. You didn’t specify how, so I gave you dead.”
“I’m not complaining—”
“Good,” Keelan growled and straightened up. Rainer sized him up, turned, and left for his table with his followers. Keelan got back in line next to Mike.
“Hey, the line starts back there!” the man behind them said. Keelan turned to look at him, then to the end of the line.
“So it does.” Keelan then ignored the man.
“You can’t just step out and in like you please. I’m hungry too!” the man complained, and Mike almost felt sorry for the guy for tampering with Keelan’s foul mood.
Keelan turned, grabbed the man by his shirt, and threw him across the floor. “The line begins back there!” he growled and pointed before getting in next to Mike again.
“What’s eating you?” Mike asked as he watched the bewildered man scramble to his feet and make his way to the end of the line. Keelan shushed at Mike, so he opted to let it go.
Breakfast was a quiet ordeal, and not even on their way back to their cell did Mike mention anything about the lessons he’d prepared for the day as he usually did.
Keelan suddenly halted and held up a hand for Mike to stop. Mike did, and Keelan tiptoed closer before he slipped into the cell and shut the door silently. Then a ruckus sounded along with screams and yelling and then furniture was being knocked over.
Mike cringed as he pictured all his hard work on notes for lessons being scattered all over the place. Rainer and four followers appeared next to him. Mike yelped as Rainer grabbed him by the neck and shoved him through the door to the cell.
Keelan stood bent over a man, and the blood on the walls indicated that yet another page in his proverbial kill-book had just been filled. Keelan looked up, puzzled, then at the body. He lifted it and turned the head so he could see the face.
It was one of Rainer’s followers.
Mike shot a glance at Rainer. He did not look happy.
“Shit, I didn’t even see who it was,” Keelan mumbled. “What the hell is he doing in here, anyway?”
“I asked him to get one of the books you took from the Blood Brothers’ cell.”
“You could have asked. I’d have lent it to you.”
“Did you forget that you belong to me?” Rainer bellowed. Keelan’s calm expression seemed to be blown away as his temper exploded, but only his eyes betrayed his still calm and collected façade as he neared Rainer.
“Let’s get one thing perfectly straight here. I work for you. I am not one of your toys.” Keelan nodded toward the four followers. Mike glanced at them, and something in Sal’s eyes scared him. One look at Keelan revealed the deeper meaning of the odd conversation between them when Sal had sneaked away from Rainer to see Keelan. It wasn’t the currier Sal had warned Keelan about, it was Rainer.
“You get to clean this one up yourself,” Rainer sneered and left the cell. Sal looked sorrowfully at Keelan before he left with a defeated posture.
“Very charming,” Mike said and closed the door. Keelan grabbed him by the front of his shirt and stared menacingly at him. Mike flayed his arms to counter a blow that didn’t come.
“Sit!” Keelan ordered before he swung the corpse over his shoulder and left the cell. He returned shortly after.
“These three jobs you have to do—”
“Leave it.”
“Come on.”
Keelan changed direction and didn’t stop before Mike had fallen off the chair once again trying to counter a blow that didn’t land. Keelan’s temper was obviously not yet at a safe level, and Mike regretted having asked.
“Nothing’s free, remember?” Keelan asked. “I don’t intend on spending the rest of my life here. That’s my sentence. Life. When I get out of here, I need to know how I don’t get caught again. The three jobs are the price I pay for you... the price to access your knowledge.”
Mike looked up, but Keelan was still anything but compliant.
“Get out? And then what? Work as a mercenary?”
“I’ll never be a merc!” Keelan sneered.
“You already are! Three or at least four murders as payment for me—”
“Your knowledge.”
“It’s the same thing, Keelan!” Mike said, getting to his feet. “Look at me and tell me what the difference is. Rainer was the highest bidder, the one who had what you needed. It doesn’t matter if it’s money or knowledge you get, it’s payment!”
Keelan whipped his head around to look at Mike and something in his eyes changed. The anger remained the same, but something disappeared. Something died, but what?
Chapter Four
Several days went by where Rainer didn’t mention anything about the murder of his follower, and Mike was starting to hope he’d forgotten everything about it. But there was no absolution in his eyes when he looked at Keelan.
Mike continued the lessons and after almost two months as Keelan’s roomie, he was beginning to see the man differently. He rejected the idea that they were becoming friends. A merc and a lifer? Never. But Mike trusted him after Keelan had saved him in the
showers. He could even ignore the painful temper his cellmate had shown him.
Late one night, Rainer came by their cell. He seemed calm and even smiled a joyless smile.
“Last job,” he said after having closed the door silently behind him. “Last job and then we renegotiate your job description.”
Keelan nodded.
“Who is it this time?”
“Black-eyed Burton. He’s been groping my... toys as you call them. It’s getting annoying, really.”
“Burton? I have to kill Black-eyed Burton?”
“What?” Rainer asked with an alarming calmness.
“Yeah, no questions, I remember the deal.”
“Good,” Rainer drawled and left the cell.
“Black-eyed Burton, well there goes a challenge. Even a fish can piss him in half.”
“Black-eyed Burton, that’s that weird little guy with entirely too much self-esteem, right?” Mike asked. Keelan nodded. “How the hell did he survive in here?”
Keelan shrugged.
“His endless charm? Oh wait, he doesn’t have any. I have to admit that I like his killer gaze.” Keelan shook his head, grinning.
“When do you leave?”
The smile fell away, and Keelan glanced at him.
“Now, I guess.” Keelan sighed and slumped in his chair.
“You ever regret a kill?”
Keelan looked at him. Mike hadn’t gotten an answer last time he’d asked that very question, and he didn’t expect one this time. But he’d finally gotten to Keelan, which had been the plan.
Keelan got up and left the cell.
Mike grunted in irritation as a knock on the door woke him. Keelan hadn’t been gone long the night before—at least not long enough for Mike to have fallen asleep.
Keelan sat up and stretched loudly. “You gonna get that?”
“You’re closer,” Mike said, grinning.
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