No knife. It was safe to go in closer.
The second blow was going lower and this time he knew the target would not cause a fatality, no matter how hard it came, so he delivered a stomp to the balls.
No rules.
The scream was so loud Chris figured it was bound to bring the guards running. There was nothing sophisticated about a stomp to the testicles, but when you needed to incapacitate your opponent without killing them, there was nothing better. Besides, by stopping this man having kids, he was doing the world a favor.
The big guy’s hands left his face and went straight to his groin and he rolled onto his side and curled up. Chris needed to end this fight before it got started. He dropped to the ground and wrapped his arms around the thick neck with his bicep on one side and the thumb side of his wrist on the other. He applied firm pressure restricting blood flow through the carotid arteries to the brain. After around twenty seconds the big guy stopped thrashing and Chris knew he had less than a minute to restrain him before he came round again.
He leapt up and pulled a sheet from the bed and used it to bind the man’s wrists behind his back. He pulled the knots tight and then stretched the sheet tight and used it to tie his ankles. When this man came round he was going to be in a whole world of hurt. Chris pulled one of the man’s socks off and stuffed it in his mouth—this way he might actually get some sleep tonight. The man was unconscious but Chris still delivered a final kick to the ribs.
Chris climbed the ladder back to his bunk and lay down. He started to hear moaning from the floor beneath him. He rolled over, and closed his eyes. He wondered whether he’d be getting a new roommate for tomorrow. If not, this could well be the last night’s sleep he’d get in a while.
The metal prison door buzzed and clanged and the noise woke Chris. As soon as he moved, he realized how much his body was aching, his muscles grumbling from last night’s scuffle. He wondered how the other guy was feeling. He vaguely remembered gagging him before trying to get some sleep and then suddenly felt a flush of panic as he also remembered breaking his nose. He really hoped he hadn’t cut off his only remaining air supply by stuffing a sock in his mouth. He lifted himself on his elbows and looked cautiously for the body below. The big black face stared up at him with a look that said,
As soon as I get untied, I’m going to rip your head from your neck
. Chris was trying to figure out how he was going to keep out of this man’s way for the remainder of his stay when a guard appeared at the cell door.
‘What in all hell have you two queers been doing in here?’ he said. There was a second guard with a pump-action shotgun. The first guard looked up at Chris. ‘Sanders,’ he said, ‘you’ve got a visitor. It seems you might be getting out of here sooner than we thought, and by the looks of things, you’d’ve been lucky to survive another night.’ He looked down at the huge man on the ground. ‘I don’t know how you managed to beat this big son-of-a-bitch, but I suggest you don’t want to be here when he gets untied; now move your ass.’
Chris was led through the maze of metal gantries and walkways until he came to a painted metal door. The door buzzed and clicked open and he was surprised to see Detective Ben Naylor sitting at a table.
‘Missing me already?’ Chris said.
Naylor half-smiled and gestured to the seat opposite him. ‘Sit down Chris,’ he said, ‘I’ve got something I think you want to hear.’
Chris pulled the chair out from under the table and sat. This was a minimum security processing room, the furniture was not fastened down and the two men were in the room alone. There was no observation mirror and no camera. Chris figured he could have caved in Naylor’s head before a guard had even opened the door and so either Naylor liked to live dangerously or he had changed his mind about whether Chris was a dangerous man.
‘How’s Michelle?’ said Chris.
‘She’s fine. In fact she’s more than fine, Chris. It’s because of her that I’m here.’ Naylor slid a piece of paper across to Chris. ‘I have a notice for your immediate release and all charges have been dropped.’
As the pressure and misery of the last few days suddenly lifted, Chris felt overjoyed. ‘I don’t understand,’ said Chris with a big grin, ‘only yesterday you wanted to see me rot in this place and now I’m supposed to believe I’m a free man?’
Naylor nodded but he didn’t look happy. ‘There’re complications Chris,’ he said. ‘Do you know why you ended up in here?’
‘Some stupid son-of-a-bitch detective named Naylor,’ said Chris.
‘OK, I can understand you’re pissed, but I was doing my job Chris, I’m sure you can understand that. You ended up in here because somebody
wanted
you in here. There was irrefutable evidence that you killed Jasmine Allan. There was a log showing that you had taken your gun from the locker at the gun club. There were traces of Teflon on the inside of your gun’s barrel which matched the ammunition used to kill Jasmine.’
‘Teflon?’ said Chris. ‘Why the hell would I use armor-piercing rounds in a hand gun?’
‘Listen to me Chris. You’re in big trouble. Someone put a lot of effort into ensuring you went down for this. Someone that could pull strings, do the impossible. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
Chris shrugged.
‘Someone with a lot of power wants you out of the way. You can walk out of here a free man, but you need to watch your back.’
There it was. The feeling of joy didn’t last for long and now the troubles were back but right now there was only one thing he cared about. ‘Get me out of here Naylor, I want to see Michelle.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea Chris. I think that whoever tried to pin this on you might want to get rid of you permanently. Do you really want to expose Michelle to that kind of danger?’
Chris shook his head. ‘Last night my cell mate tried to kill me,’ he said. Naylor seemed shocked. For all the stories of violence in prison, it was unusual for someone to commit murder in a prison. Chris continued, ‘I woke up in the middle of the night with three hundred pounds of meat on me and a pillow over my face.’
‘What happened?’
‘Well let’s just say I’m pleased I’m not going to be sharing a room with him again tonight and I don’t think he’ll be looking me up on Facebook any time soon.’
‘I don’t like this Chris, do you have any idea how hard it is to get a guy killed in prison?’ said Naylor. Chris stared at him waiting for the answer. ‘Not very.’ Naylor said. ‘But the thing is, you were in a locked cell with the guy. I’m guessing you hadn’t done anything to piss him off enough to make him want to kill you?’
‘Not even
I
can make enemies that quickly,’ said Chris.
‘I’m worried Chris. To arrange for that man to be in your cell means that your enemies have influence that goes deep. I’m talking about bribing prison guards, officials, maybe even a judge. Plus the guy had no chance of getting away with it. There’d have been one dead guy in a cell with another looking as guilty as hell.’
‘He didn’t seem like the sharpest tool in the set.’
‘Maybe so, but why would anyone volunteer to get locked up and then commit murder in a way that meant they would almost certainly get convicted for it?’
‘Get me out of here Naylor,’ Chris said. ‘I want to see Michelle. Just get me the hell out of here.’
Naylor nodded. ‘There’s something else you need to know about Michelle. She probably won’t be at home right now.’
Michelle had gone to Georgetown University Hospital just as soon as she’d gotten the news about her dad. Frank had offered to go with her, he was very sympathetic and after all Michelle had been through, he felt it was the least he could do, but Michelle declined. Instead, she made Frank promise to contact Detective Naylor and tell him about the cleaners and how they’d seen Chris in his office at the time of the shooting, she also wanted him to contact the senior partners at her dad’s firm and make sure that the new evidence was processed quickly and Chris was released as soon as possible. Frank had agreed and said he would make his own way back and she should go straight away.
The traffic had been light and she’d parked easily. The nurse on the phone had not given any other details but somehow Michelle knew her dad was going to be OK. She couldn’t imagine any other scenario. Her dad had always been there for her. As an only child, she’d probably received more attention than was good for her. If her dad had regretted having a daughter instead of a son, he’d never shown it. Her memories of her childhood were full of happy times. She remembered being a small girl standing outside his study and watching him work. He’d looked so serious, almost sad, as though he was trying to solve a tricky puzzle, but then he’d looked up from his papers and his serious concentrating face had cracked into a broad smile. He’d held out his arms and let her jump on his knee and gave her a big hug. That was her dad all over. He’d always made time for her no matter how crazy things had gotten at work. She guessed she’d come to rely on him. When things went wrong he was always the first one she turned to, even after she’d met Chris. He would be OK; she just knew it deep down. He had to be.
She entered the air-conditioned lobby through a pair of sliding glass doors and tried to get her bearings. The room was large and clean with a slight smell of pine disinfectant and antiseptic. People busied themselves in all directions carrying charts and medicines, wheeling wheelchairs and yet the lobby area seemed strangely calm with lots of miserable people sitting in the waiting area. Busy but quiet. The marble floor and high ceiling made it look more like a hotel lobby than the reception to a hospital, but there was no doubt that everyone here would rather be someplace else, and that included the staff. She walked quickly to the reception desk and a nurse smiled warmly.
‘I’m Michelle Sanders,’ she said. ‘I’m looking for my dad, Bob Whittaker. He’s had a heart attack. I’m told you have him here?’
The nurse continued to smile with her eyes but at the same time gave an impression of sincere concern. A well-rehearsed face intended to show empathy but confidence.
‘Certainly Michelle,’ she said, ‘I’ll just take a moment to find where he is.’ She turned her attention to a computer and started to tap at the keyboard. She paused and studied the screen, then tapped some more. Michelle looked around the room. The people waiting looked miserable, except for a small boy who was happily playing with a toy car, pushing it around the floor close to his mother’s legs. The nurse stopped tapping at the keyboard and turned her face up to Michelle whilst her eyes still gazed down at the screen. ‘Ah yes, here he is. He’s in cardiology intensive care ward six. If you take the elevator to the fifth floor and follow the signs to their reception area, they’ll be able to give you more details on his condition. I’ll give them a call and tell them you’re coming.’
Michelle thanked the nurse and walked quickly, almost ran, to the elevator and pushed the button two or three times. The elevator arrived and Michelle pushed her way in, past the people trying to get out and hit the button for floor five. She felt herself get heavier as the elevator accelerated upwards, but it seemed to travel too slowly. She needed to see her dad and know he was OK. She’d told him he needed to do more exercise and watch his diet more. He played golf, but the drinks that followed didn’t do anything for his waistline and he was never really careful with what he ate. Large business dinners and drinks seemed to be a part of his job. She was going to make sure that things changed from now on. She’d get him a dietician and a personal trainer.
Why was this lift taking so long?
Michelle followed the signs to the cardiology department and eventually found the reception area. She told the nurse who she was but before the nurse could answer, a doctor interrupted.
‘Michelle, I’m Doctor Reeves. I’m the consultant cardiologist looking after your father.’ He held out his hand and Michelle took it. He had kind eyes. ‘Come with me, we’ll find somewhere private to talk.’
Michelle had seen enough episodes of ER to know that this wasn’t good. They only took the family members into a private room when it was bad news. Michelle could feel the pain hanging over her like a weight but until she knew for sure, she still had hope.
The doctor let Michelle settle on a comfy chair then sat on a sofa. ‘Michelle, first of all, let me tell you your father is going to be OK,’ he said.
Michelle nearly wept.
‘He has, however, suffered quite a serious heart attack. We’ve given him some drugs to keep him asleep, to give his body a chance to heal. We’ll know more when he wakes up, but for now, there’s little you can do. He’s stable. You can go and see him if you wish.’
Michelle wanted to see her dad more than anything in the world but she wasn’t prepared for what she saw. Even though she knew he’d be asleep and she was expecting some wires and tubes, she hadn’t expected to see him looking so weak. His skin seemed to look gray and he looked smaller in some way. She crossed the room and put her hand on his. She’d never really thought of her dad as getting older but now he looked so frail. The tears came, she couldn’t stop them now. Whether it was the relief of knowing he was still alive or the shock of seeing him so broken. Her father had always been such a strong man and she realized that his recovery was going to take some time.