Last Call

"You deal with that end. I'll take care of mine."

"You haven't taken care of shit. Make it right, or don't ever call me again."

The loud click in Moses' ear could only have been the telephone slamming down. Moses simply smiled as he put away his cell. The man's words – Don't ever call me again – traveled straight to his fu

"Dream on, dude."

Chapter 30

It was lights out at TGK, and Theo lay awake in his bunk. Plotting his next move was head splitting. There was only so much time he could spend thinking about the O-Town Posse tattoo and Moses' sudden departure, not to mention his search for the man who played the role of "safety valve" in Isaac Reems's extortion scheme. Theo desperately wanted to know the upshot of the cell-to-cell inspection of inmates, but Jack couldn't just stop by to provide hourly updates. Too much contact with the real world (particularly outside of regular visiting hours) would arouse suspicions within TGK and potentially blow Theo's cover. Jack would have to fill him in at tomorrow's meeting. In the meantime, sleep was essential.

Theo was giving his brain a rest, playing one of the many mental games he'd invented while on death row. This one drew on his musical background and was called "Duets You Hope You Never See." He quit when he conjured up the image of Ozzy Osbourne and Keith Richards clad in skimpy Cher wear and singing "If I Could Turn Back Time."

The cell's lock disengaged with an ominous click, and the iron door slid open. Officer MacDonald was suddenly standing over Theo.

"Get up, Knight," he said.

Theo slid out from under the blanket and sat on the edge of the bunk. He was wearing only underwear and a T-shirt. "What's going on?"

"Just get on your feet." He grabbed Theo's orange jumpsuit from the shelf and threw it across the cell. It hit Theo in the chest. "You're coming with me," the guard said.

Theo walked slowly to the toilet and urinated. Charger lay quietly in the top bunk, pretending to be asleep. Theo didn't really need to pee that badly but taking care of business gave him a minute to evaluate the situation. Pulling an inmate out of a cell at this hour was unusual, and it made Theo wonder if the FBI had decided to make MacDonald privy to his undercover status. Maybe MacDonald needed to take him somewhere private to pass along information from Jack or Andie. Or perhaps Jack had come on the pretense of some phony emergency to deliver a message himself.

"Move it," said MacDonald.

Theo pulled on his jumpsuit, a pair of socks, and his prison-issue te

Theo went first, and MacDonald gave him a needless shove from behind as they exited the cell. The iron door slid shut behind them, the ratchet of the lock echoing throughout the dark cell block.

"Where we headed?" said Theo.

"Eyes forward," said MacDonald. "Just do as I say."

The guard gave him another shove, and Theo started walking. Most inmates were asleep in their cells. Some stood at the bars to see what was going on, their hands protruding from the blackened cells. For Theo, it was eerily reminiscent of his predawn walk down death row.

Theo stopped at the guard's command. They were at the end of the cell block, standing before a locked security door. A buzzer sounded, and the door opened. MacDonald gave him another u

The security door locked behind them. MacDonald gave a nod and a hello to the guard posted in the short corridor that joined the cell block to the next wing.

"To your left," MacDonald told Theo.

Theo obliged and braced himself for another cheap shot from behind. MacDonald didn't disappoint him. This one nearly made Theo stumble forward. Each shove was a little harder than the last.

"Stop," said MacDonald.

They were standing outside the isolation chamber – not a cell, but a private room in which the guards interrogated inmates, from informants to troublemakers.

"Hands behind your back."

Theo did as he was told. MacDonald bound the prisoner's wrists with metal cuffs, unlocked the door, and pushed Theo inside. He followed right behind him, switched on the lights, and locked the door.

The room was ten feet by ten feet. It had no windows and only one door in or out. The floor was bare concrete, the walls were yellow-painted cinder blocks, and the only furniture was an old oak chair in the center of the room.

Theo had been around the proverbial cell block enough to know that it wasn't standard procedure for an interrogation to be conducted by one guard. This was the moment of truth. Either MacDonald was a player in the FBI's operation and this was going to be something good – or he wasn't, and…

A nightstick to his kidneys brought Theo to his knees and his speculation to an end. Theo remained on the floor on hands and knees, keeping his head down. He'd had the holy hell beaten out of him before, both as a child and as an adult, but his body was no longer conditioned for a blow like this one. It took a minute for him to catch his breath. The hot, stale air didn't make it any easier. He was sweating already.

MacDonald circled him in silence, and Theo could hear only the soft: step of his shoes and the steady tap of the nightstick in the palm of his hand.

"Isaac was your good buddy huh?" he said.

Theo didn't answer, which brought MacDonald's boot to his belly. Theo went over on his side, the wind gone from him again.

"You seem to have a knack for making friends with the wrong people, pal."

Theo stayed low, the right side of his face on the floor. Obviously MacDonald wasn't part of the undercover team, but Theo was begi

"Get up," said MacDonald, as he grabbed Theo by the collar. "In the chair."

Theo sat in the interrogation chair, his cuffed hands behind the backrest.

MacDonald faced him directly, boring the blunt end of his nightstick into Theo's chest. He turned it like a screwdriver as he increased the pressure, which hurt like a bitch.

"Nobody sits at Moses' table on his first trip to the cafeteria," said MacDonald. "Nobody but you."

"He invited me," said Theo.

"Just like that, he decides you're his new pal."

"Yeah," said Theo. "Just like that."

MacDonald bent over and stared straight into his eyes, close enough for Theo to smell the coffee on his breath. The guard said, "I can see this is go

He jammed the nightstick into Theo's groin, and Theo fell to the floor again. Theo looked up at the ceiling, but he could barely see straight. He rolled onto his side and assumed a fetal position. It had been a long time since he'd felt pain like this.

MacDonald was circling again, taunting him with that tap of the nightstick against the palm of his open hand.

"You and your buddy Isaac Reems stained my perfect record with that escape."

"It was his jailbreak."

"But you helped. That's why you're here."

The residual stabbing pain in his testicles was still making it difficult for Theo to form coherent thoughts, but that last remark suggested that MacDonald didn't know anything about Theo or his actual status. This "interrogation" appeared to be about nothing more than a petty correctional officer's bruised ego.

Theo was still lying on his side. MacDonald stepped behind him and pressed Theo's fingertips beneath his boot – slowly at first, then harder, as if trying to mash them into the concrete. Theo grimaced in pain but tried not to cry out, refusing to give MacDonald the satisfaction.