‘What does it mean?’
Magee smiled to himself. ‘You’ll find out.’
After supper-bread, stew in a metal dish, a small apple-Magee introduced MacKinnon to the mysteries of cribbage. Fortunately, MacKinnon had no cash to lose. Presently Magee put the cards down without shuffling them. ‘Dave,’ he said, ‘are you enjoying the hospitality offered by this institution?’
‘Hardly-Why?’
‘I suggest that we check out.’
‘A good idea, but how?’
‘That’s what I’ve been thinking about. Do you suppose you could take another poke on that battered phiz of yours, in a good cause?’
MacKinnon cautiously fingered his face. ‘I suppose so-if necessary. It can’t do me much more harm, anyhow.’
‘That’s mother’s little man! Now listen-this guard, Lefty, in addition to being kind o’ unbright, is sensitive about his appearance. When they turn out the lights, you -‘
‘Let me out of here! Let me out of here!’ MacKinnon beat on the bars and screamed. No answer came. He renewed the racket, his voice an hysterical falsetto. Lefty arrived to investigate, grumbling.
‘What the hell’s eating on you?’ he demanded, peering through the bars.
MacKinnon changed to tearful petition. ‘Oh, Lefty, please let me out of here. Please! I can’t stand the dark. It’s dark in here-please don’t leave me alone.’ He flung himself, sobbing, on the bars.
The guard cursed to himself. ‘Another slugnutty. Listen, you-shut up, and go to sleep, or I’ll come in there, and give you something to yelp for!’ He started to leave.
MacKinnon changed instantly to the vindictive, unpredictable anger of the irresponsible. ‘You big ugly baboon! You rat-faced idiot! Where’d you get that nose?’
Lefty turned back, fury in his face. He started to speak. MacKinnon cut him short. ‘Yah! Yah! Yah!’ he gloated, like anasty little boy, ‘Lefty’s mother was scared by a warthog-The guard swung at the spot where MacKinnon’s face was pressed between the bars of the door. MacKinnon ducked and grabbed simultaneously. Off balance at meeting no resistance, the guard rocked forward, thrusting his forearm between the bars. MacKinnon’s fingers slid along his arm, and got a firm purchase on Lefty’s wrist.
He threw himself backwards, dragging the guard with him, until Lefty was jammed up against the outside of the barred door, with one arm inside, to the wrist of which MacKinnon clung as if welded.
The yell which formed in Lefty’s throat miscarried; Magee had already acted. Out of the darkness, silent as death, his slim hands had snaked between the bars and imbedded themselves in the guard’s fleshy neck. Lefty heaved, and almost broke free, but MacKinnon threw his weight to the right and twisted the arm he gripped in an agonizing, bone-breaking leverage.
It seemed to MacKinnon that they remained thus, like some grotesque game of statues, for an endless period. His pulse pounded in his ears until he feared that it must be heard by others, and bring rescue to Lefty. Magee spoke at last:
‘That’s enough,’ he whispered. ‘Go through his pockets.’
He made an awkward job if it, for his hands were numb and trembling from the strain, and it was anything but convenient to work between the bars. But the keys were there, in the last pocket he tried. He passed them to Magee, who let the guard slip to the floor, and accepted them.
Magee made a quick job of it. The door swung open with a distressing creak. Dave stepped over Lefty’s body, but Magee kneeled down, unhooked a truncheon from the guard’s belt, and cracked him behind the ear with it. MacKinnon paused.
‘Did you kill him?’ he asked.
‘Cripes, no,’ Magee answered softly, ‘Lefty is a friend of mine. Let’s go.’
They hurried down the dimly lighted passageway between cells toward the door leading to the administrative offices-their only outlet. Lefty had carelessly left it ajar, and light shone through the crack, but as they silently approached it, they heard ponderous footsteps from the far side. Dave looked hurriedly for cover, but the best he could manage was to slink back into the corner formed by the cell block and the wall. He glanced around for Magee, but he had disappeared.
The door swung open; a man stepped through, paused, and looked around. MacKinnon saw that he was carrying a blacklight, and wearing its complement-rectifying spectacles. He realized then that the darkness gave him no cover. The blacklight swung his way; he tensed to spring-He heard a dull ‘clunk!’ The guard sighed, swayed gently, then collapsed into a loose pile. Magee stood over him, poised on the balls of his feet, and surveyed his work, while caressing the business end of the truncheon with the cupped fingers of his left hand.