“Lie down.”
“Sorry?”
She pointed with the muzzle of the gun. “On the floor, on your stomach.”
“Why?” He looked puzzled.
“Because my friends Mr. Koch and Mr. Heckler here say so.”
The man got to his hands and knees, looking up at Nanci to make sure he was doing good. He really wanted to do good. When she nodded approvingly at him, the man lay right down, rolling onto his belly, resting the side of his cheek against the rough concrete floor, trying not to weep with fear.
Jeff Thomas was also becoming scared. The woman should have been dead by now. But he’d heard the other guard, the nicer one, Ed, come into the passage. Then there’d been some talk, so quiet he couldn’t catch what was being said.
“Hey, out there,” he called very quietly, his curiosity overcoming his fear.
Nobody answered, so he stayed where he was, sitting on his small bed.
Ed blinked open his eyes, seeing from his lowly position that the teacher lady was real close. One polished boot was on either side of his head, heels touching his neck. Then weight on his shoulders as she lowered herself onto his back.
It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. In fact, it produced a tiny frisson of excitement riding through his terror.
“Hands gripping the nice ironed seams of your pants, son, if you please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
There was the breath of steel on leather as she holstered the powerful 9 mm pistol. Nanci braced herself, setting her feet firmly astride the guard’s shaved skull. Leaning forward, she quickly clasped her hands under his chin, aware of the slight stubble against her palms.
Jeff heard the odd noise.
If he’d been an outdoor type, he might have compared it to the snapping of a dry branch.
But he wasn’t. City born and bred. So it reminded him of a powerful security bolt snapping shut.
Nanci sat back, waiting for the last twitches and jerks to cease. A dark pool of urine was spreading across the floor from between the thighs of the corpse. Finally only the index finger on the man’s left hand still moved, the nail scratching backward and forward for several seconds.
She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment.
There was a light rapping on the door at her back, accompanied by a muffled voice.
“Time to go, Nanci,” she said, straightening herself up from her seat on the dead man’s shoulders.
“Hey, you guys! Ed! Joe! Come on, guys. Chief wants the prisoner, Thomas.”
She heard movement from within the cell. Someone standing up and shuffling feet.
“Chief’ll get pissed! Pissed at me an’ you two. Just hook the old slut and open up.”
Nanci considered opening the door and letting in whoever was out there. But she was already ahead of the game. Two guards. Two corpses. Eventually, if she waited for too long, the odds would stack against her and the game would end.
Then the prisoner in the cell put in his two bits. “Hey, whoever’s there. Better let him in. He’s the chief’s lieutenant. I know his voice. You’ll just likely get us both into deep shit!” Jeff’s voice was high and ragged, making Nanci smile.
She walked toward the cell door, heels clicking, one hand on the butt of the Heckler & Koch, the machine pistol slung over her shoulders. She reached out to slide the bolt open.
“Hello, Jeff. What a pleasant surprise to meet up with you again.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The chief wasn’t very happy.
Her assistant had called through from the isolated cell block to report that he hadn’t been able to get any response from the two guards. As a consequence, he wasn’t able to bring the prisoner, Jeff Thomas, along to her rooms at the scheduled time. But they were going to find the second set of keys as soon as possible and get inside. He’d report when he could.
Margaret Tabor had placed the telephone back very gently onto its rest. She put the tips of her fingers together like a child playing “church and steeple.”
“Yes,” she said to her empty office.
It was no surprise to her when the news came through only seconds later that a four-by-four pickup had burst through the main gate, leaving a number of blazing vehicles behind it, cutting their transportation capability by two-thirds.