Butcher

and she'd be recharged.

She looked at one of the circulars as she relaxed. Beneath the blowups of the likenesses of the Boy Butcher, Emil Shtolz, Aaron Kamen had added thoughts about the possibilities of reconstructive surgery:

Photograph One: Dr. Emil Shtolz the way he looked when he left Germany in the mid-1940s. Note birthmark.

Photograph Two: Dr. Emil Shtolz's photograph by the time he obtained a driver's license in the postwar 1940s (South America). Identical to photo used by War Crimes Tribunal when Shtolz was tried and convicted in absentia. By the time Shtolz had come to South America he had had cosmetic surgery. Note removal of “Tear of Satan” facial birthmark. Presumably his left arm might also show evidence of the removal of official Waffen-SS blood group tattoo. Following standard escape procedures employed, it is a reasonable assumption that upon Shtolz's emigration to North America additional plastic surgery would have been sought. Subject may no longer resemble photographs.

Kamen had also appended the following:

General Note: Intellectual capacity and language fluency will render this individual extremely difficult to identify physically if further cosmetic facial restructuring has been employed. (See dental records.)

Look for someone working either as a clinician, doctor, teacher, medical assistant, veterinarian, dentist, researcher, or in a related field such as pharmacology, biochemistry, etc. He may have an unusual number of pets, or in some way volunteer his services to help animals, children, and/or the elderly. Shtolz might do charity work for an animal organization such as the Humane Society, or work around livestock in some capacity. He might run a day care center or work for such organizations as the Boy Scouts of America. He might be posing as a priest or minister, or volunteer to work with church, school, day nursery, or nursing home groups.

He may wish to display proficiency in one of the scientific disciplines, for example, a laborer whose hobby is some avenue of clinical experimentation or a blue-collar worker who has treated illnesses. He will seek out contacts with young children, developmentally impaired people, senior citizens, animals, and those he considers vulnerable.

There were no further notes about checking out the man's paper trail for a fraudulent resume or references that wouldn't stand up to close scrutiny, because that was basic to any investigation. It was the first thing one did as a hunter, one followed the trail.

The circulars were thin sheets of paper but they had a weight she couldn't believe. The weight pushed her down, made her ache inside, shudder, and she jerked her head, trembling, as she felt her face sliding down in the bathwater. How long had she been asleep in the tub? God! Unbelievable.

Sharon got out of the now cool water and rubbed vigorously with a huge, rough bath towel. The motel room had felt quite warm when she first entered it but the air dried on her now, making her tremble again, every pore of skin tingling. She was afraid and wasn't completely sure she should be. You could think about things in a way that might perhaps influence them. She jumped into bed and pulled up the scratchy blanket and the spread that smelled of tobacco smoke and was asleep before her beautiful, silky hair hit the pillow, She did not hear the rain that was pounding outside in accompaniment to her deep breathing.

35

New Madrid Levee

Daniel Bunkowski dreams of his third bit inside the House of Pain, which was one of the names the inmates gave to the Marion, Illinois, federal penitentiary.

Dr. Norman, in charge of the program that originally shoehorned Chaingang out of the maximum security side, enjoyed a unique position within the penal system, and his ties to clandestine intelligence, the military, and the law-enforcement community had, in a direct, odd way, filtered down to his principal charge: the only inmate within the federal system with a Level 7 rating.

The unprecedented cartes blanches this anomaly was given transmuted in strange ways. The correctional guards found the special procedures loathsome, but what the guard nicknamed Spanish felt toward Bunkowski could only be termed unnatural. It was a fierce, mad, irregular sickness that ate away at the man.

He never missed an opportunity to be cruel to the occupant of cell 10, in the violent unit of disciplinary segregation—D Seg being prison jargon for solitary. It had begun with words, stories of animal cruelty and child abuse that he hoped would enrage the thing kept in restraints, cuffs, boxes, irons, and a biter. He graduated to photographs: shots of a kitten being tortured and sadistic kiddie porn. The guard had studied Bunkowski's dossier, on advice of various jailhouse “docs,” the specialists in the more depraved of sadomasochistic behavior.

The pictures had an effect opposite to the one he desired, however. When the monster saw them he simply turned to stone, and never again showed his antagonist any sign of response. The mistreatment then changed, taking on a physical edge, and Spanish began to beat on Chaingang when he knew he could get away with it. When Dr. Norman was out of town, as he was on this occasion, the opportunity was too good to ignore.

Warden Dickett put his trust in Captain Lawler, a brutal and by-the-numbers dope entrepreneur, who delegated to McCullough, Brock; and Lopez the daily responsibilities of prison business. They, in turn, farmed out the routine work. Thus, Spanish Rodriguez, through his bud Lieutenant Lopez, was able to cut himself a huss.

With quid pro quo in various currencies having greased his entree, Rodriguez took a baton and wrapped it carefully in thick rolls of newspaper. When it was properly prepared he headed for the house where the beast was caged.

That particular date, the violent unit had just been repainted, and, like the rest of D Seg, it glistened with a fresh second coat of rather prepossessing institutional beige. The behemoth's house was unlike the others, however, as it was not only restricted with respect to personal contact, the cell bore its own unique caveat:

WARNING!

To all personnel/Effective immediately/TFN:

The following rules shall be rigidly adhered to regarding the maintenance of the occupant of Cell 10, MAX D SEG VIOLENT Unit: NO PERSONNEL SHALL ENTER THIS CELL FOR ANY REASON AT ANY TIME UNLESS ACCOMPANIED BY ONE OF THE FOLLOWING SUPERVISORS:

1. Dr. Norman

2. Captain Lawler

3. Correctional Officer McCullough

4. Correctional Officer Brock

5. Lieutenant Lopez

6. Myself

ANY VIOLATION OF THIS POLICY SHALL RESULT IN THE IMMEDIATE TERMINATION OF ALL PERSONNEL INVOLVED IN SAID VIOLATION.

Warden Carol A. Dickett

Spanish ignored the warning. His palms were sweating. “Crack Ten,” he shouted to the officer manning the controls, his voice hoarse.

“Hey, man, we're not supposed to—'

'Lawler knows, goddammit, and the fag is outta town, so crack the sum-bitch, aw'right?'