Killing Floor

WHEN I OPENED THEM AGAIN HUBBLE WAS SITTING ON A bed looking over at me. We were in a big cell. Probably twice as wide as the last one. Two separate beds, one on each side. A sink, a john. A wall of bars. Everything was brighter and cleaner. It was very quiet. The air smelled better. This was the holding floor. This was floor six. This was where we should have been all the time.

“What the hell happened to you in there?” Hubble asked.

I just shrugged at him. A meal cart appeared outside our cell. It was dragged by an old white guy. Not a guard, some kind of an orderly. Looked more like an old steward on an ocean liner. He passed a tray through an oblong slot in the bars. Covered plates, paper cups, Thermos. We ate the food sitting on our beds. I drank all the coffee. Then I paced the cell. Shook the gate. It was locked. The sixth floor was calm and quiet. A big clean cell. Separate beds. A mirror. Towels. I felt much better up here.

Hubble piled the meal debris on the tray and shoved it out under the gate into the corridor. He lay down on his bed. Put his hands behind his head. Stared at the ceiling. Doing time. I did the same. But I was thinking hard. Because they had definitely gone through a selection process. They had looked us both over very carefully and chosen me. Quite definitely chosen me. Then they had tried to strangle me.

They would have killed me. Except for one thing. The guy with his hands around my throat had made a mistake. He had me from behind, which was in his favor, and he was big enough and strong enough. But he hadn’t balled up his fingers. The best way is to use the thumbs on the back of the neck but fold up the fingers. Do it with knuckle pressure, not finger pressure. The guy had left his fingers out straight. So I had been able to reach up and snap them off. His mistake had saved my life. No doubt about that. Soon as he was neutralized, it was two against one. And I’d never had a problem with those kind of odds.

But it was still a straightforward attempt to kill me. They came in, chose me, tried to kill me. And Spivey had just happened to be outside the bathroom. He had set it up. He had employed the Aryan Brotherhood to kill me. He had ordered the attack and waited ready to burst in and find me dead.

And he had pla

But then his plan had fouled up. I wasn’t killed. The Aryans were beaten off. The Red Boys had piled in to seize the moment. Mayhem had broken out. A riot was starting. Spivey was panicking. He hit the alarms and called the crash squads. Rushed us off the floor, up to the sixth, and left us up here. According to all the paperwork, the sixth floor is where we’d been all the time.

A neat fallback. It made me fireproof as far as investigation went. Spivey had chosen the fallback option which said we were never there. He had a couple of serious injuries on his hands, probably even a dead guy. I figured the boss man must have choked to death. Spivey must know I had done it. But he could never say so now. Because according to him, I was never there.

I lay on the bed and stared at the concrete ceiling. I exhaled gently. The plan was clear. No doubt about Spivey’s plan at all. The fallback was coherent. An aborted plan with a neat fallback position. But why? I didn’t understand it. Let’s say the strangler had balled up his fingers. They would have got me then. I would have been dead. Dumped on the bathroom floor with my big swollen tongue sticking out. Spivey would have rushed in and found me. Why? What was Spivey’s angle? What did he have against me? I’d never seen him before. Never been anywhere near him or his damn prison. Why the hell should he operate an elaborate plan to get me dead? I couldn’t begin to figure it out.

8

HUBBLE SLEPT FOR A WHILE ON THE COT ACROSS FROM mine. Then he stirred and woke up. Writhed around. Looked disoriented for a moment, until he remembered where he was. Tried to check the time on his watch but saw only a band of pale skin where the heavy Rolex had been. Pushed against the bridge of his nose and remembered he’d lost his eyeglasses. Sighed and flopped his head back onto the striped prison pillow. One very miserable guy.

I could understand his fear. But he also looked defeated. Like he’d just rolled the dice and lost. Like he’d been counting on something to happen, and it hadn’t happened, so now he was back in despair.

Then I began to understand that, too.

“The dead guy was trying to help you, wasn’t he?” I said.

The question scared him.

“I can’t tell you that, can I?” he answered.

“I need to know,” I said. “Maybe you approached the guy for help. Maybe you talked to him. Maybe that’s why he got killed. Maybe it looks like now you’ll start talking to me. Which could get me killed, too.”

Hubble nodded and rocked back and forth on his bed. Took a deep breath. Looked straight at me.

“He was an investigator,” he said. “I brought him down here because I want this whole thing stopped. I don’t want to be involved anymore. I’m not a criminal. I’m scared to death and I want out. He was going to get me out and take down the scam. But he slipped up somehow and now he’s dead and I’m never going to get out. And if they find out it was me brought him down here, they’ll kill me. And if they don’t kill me, I’ll probably go to jail for a thousand years anyway, because right now the whole damn thing is very exposed and very dangerous.”

“Who was the guy?” I asked him.

“He didn’t have a name,” Hubble said. “Just a contact code. He said it was safer that way. I can’t believe they got him. He seemed like a capable guy to me. Tell the truth, you remind me of him. You seem like a capable guy to me, too.”

“What was he doing up there at the warehouse?” I asked him.

He shrugged and shook his head.

“I don’t understand that situation,” he said. “I put him together with another guy, and he was meeting with him up there, but wouldn’t they have shot the other guy as well? I don’t understand why they only got one of them.”

“Who was the other guy he was meeting with?” I said.

He stopped and shook his head.

“I’ve told you way too much already,” he said. “I must be crazy. They’ll kill me.”

“Who’s on the inside of this thing?” I asked him.

“Don’t you listen?” he said. “I’m not saying another word.”

“I don’t want names,” I said. “Is it a big deal?”

“It’s huge,” he said. “Biggest thing you ever heard of.”

“How many people?” I said.

He shrugged and thought about it. Counted up in his head.

“Ten people,” he said. “Not counting me.”

I looked at him and shrugged.

“Ten people doesn’t sound like a big deal,” I said.

“Well, there’s hired help,” he said. “They’re around when they’re needed. I mean a core of ten people around here. Ten people in the know, not counting me. It’s a very tight situation, but believe me, it’s a big deal.”

“What about the guy you sent to meet with the investigator?” I said. “Is he one of the ten people?”

Hubble shook his head.

“I’m not counting him either,” he said.

“So there’s you and him and ten others?” I said. “Some kind of a big deal?”