Last Call

Cy had that "Uncle Cyrus" look on his face again – the one that made it impossible for Theo to blow smoke.

"What're you doin' here, Theo? Really. What's this all about?"

"Getting answers."

"You done your part now. Why don't you come home and let the FBI or the warden work over the guy who tried to choke you to death? I'll bet he's got some answers."

"He's a punk who doesn't know shit," said Theo.

"What makes you so smart?"

"Because things don't work that way. Don't you get it? Jefferson bought him off – dope or something – to act like he was asleep and then jump me after we was alone in the infirmary. Dude doesn't even know why he was trying to kill me. He's just a pawn who's got no idea who the real players are."

"And you think you can find these real players?"

"With time, yeah. All I gotta do is work my way up the chain. The guy who tried to kill me killed Isaac. And whoever killed Isaac doesn't want anybody to know who killed my momma."

Cy brought his hands to his head, groaning. "After all these years, it finally has to come down to that, does it?"

"Not my choice. That was Isaac's doing."

"And what if Isaac just lied through his teeth when he told you he knows who killed your momma, hoping he could talk you into helping him that way?"

"It's possible," said Theo. "But I don't think a bluff would have gotten him the kind of help he needed to bust out of jail. He must have had something on the killer – enough for the dude to whack Isaac after he got out and offered to let me in on the secret. Jack and me are on the same page with this."

"Jack," he said, exasperated. "You know I like Jack, but he ain't the one who's sitting in jail with a big bull's-eye pasted onto his back."

"Careful, old man. If I asked him, Jack Swyteck would change places with me in a minute. And not just to get into Trina's pants."

They shared a little smile, and then Cy turned serious.

"I want you out of jail," he said.

Theo didn't answer right away.

"You hear me?" the old man said. "I want you out of this place."

Theo averted his eyes and shook his head slowly. "I can't just-"

"Theo," he said, his voice firm but not harsh. He stepped closer. "I ain't asking you."

"What, you're telling me?" he said, scoffing.

Uncle Cy came right beside him and laid his hand on Theo's shoulder. "I'm begging yon, boy."

Theo could feel the sincerity in his touch, hear the slight crack in his voice, see the moisture building in his eyes.

"Guard!" he called, still looking at Theo.

The CO entered the room. Finally Cy lowered his gaze. "It's time for me to go."

Theo said, "Hey it's go

Cy raised a hand stopping him, as if to say "You're all I've got, you're all I've ever had." The words didn't come, but they weren't necessary.

"It's your decision," he said, now looking straight at Theo. "Make it a good one."

The old man started toward the door, and the guard followed.

Theo watched as they left the room, the pain in his ribs worse than ever.

ANDIE SQUEEZED ONE FINAL concession out of the warden before leaving her office. She wanted to see Theo Knight's attacker.

She knew she couldn't question a prisoner who'd demanded an attorney. But both her psychology background and her FBI training in criminal profiling had taught her that some things could never be gleaned from mug shots and criminal records. Sometimes, just laying eyes on the suspect could trigger a thought that filled in another piece of the puzzle.

Duane Holloway was in the hole, one of several small cells in a separate wing of TGK where inmates were kept in solitary confinement. Eager to go home, the warden had no interest in visiting Holloway at 3:00 a.m., and she even allowed Jack to go with Andie, since all they could do was look at the prisoner from outside the cell anyway A correctional officer escorted Andie and Jack through the maze of corridors and past the security checkpoint that led to the solitary wing. It wasn't underground (basements were rare in south Florida) but it felt like it. The lighting was dim, the concrete walls sweated with moisture, and the air smelled of mildew. Holloway was in cell number three.

The guard stopped at the solid metal door, slid the slot open like the bouncer at a speakeasy, and flipped the light switch outside the cell.

"What the hell?" the man inside said, groaning.

The guard smiled at Andie. "Feast your eyes."

Andie went to the slot and peered inside.

Holloway was sitting on the floor, stark naked. He had an a

He flipped a double bird to Andie, who was nothing more than a pair of eyes in the viewing slot.

Holloway was smaller than Andie had expected. Had Theo not been handcuffed, the attack would have failed in two seconds flat. Like many inmates, however, he had impressive biceps and well-defined abs that came from battling boredom with exercise. He also had a tattoo on his chest, and since Andie was standing less than six feet away from him, she had no trouble identifying it.

"He's Folk Nation," she said.

"What?" said Jack.

Andie stepped away from the door. "He has a tattoo on his chest with a pitchfork and the letters B-O-S. That's 'Brothers of the Struggle,' one of the better-known identifiers for Folk Nation. The pitchfork is also one of their symbols."

"I know Folk Nation is a gang, but who are they exactly?" said Jack.

"They're actually not a gang – they're an alliance under which gangs are aligned. Think in terms of the New York Yankees and Chicago White Sox being part of the American League. Folk's roots are in Chicago, but it has national reach, traditionally aligned with Crips out of L.A. Their rival is People Nation, which lines up with Blood from the West Coast. The big gangs aligned under Folk are extremely violent and have begun to make serious inroads with local gangs in Florida, mostly for the drug trade."

"Why would one of those Folk Nation gangs want Theo dead?"

"They don't need a reason. Random killing can be part of their initiation ritual."

"Hey!" the man shouted from inside his cell. "Is that a woman's voice out there? Come jerk me off, baby!"

The guard smacked the door with his nightstick. The prisoner just laughed.

Jack and Andie stepped farther away from the door. "Is that what you think this was/' said Jack, lowering his voice. "A random hit?"

"No," said Andie, her words flowing as fast as her thoughts were coming to her. "I think Folk Nation is in this equation because O-Town Posse wants Theo dead. I think O-Town Posse wants Theo dead because Moses ordered it. And I think Moses was headed north on the expressway tonight because O-Town Posse is trying to cement its alignment with one of the more powerful national gangs in Folk Nation."

"Climbing in bed with the big boys out of Chicago?" said Jack.

"Yeah," said Andie, the picture getting clearer by the minute. "But I have a good feeling about this marriage."

"Why?"

"Moses brings way more baggage than he's worth," she said, cutting him a sideways glance. "Thanks to our Theo."

It was the first time Jack had ever heard her say our Theo. Maybe it was i