'No. He'll kill me if I tell.'
'Won't the cops protect you?'
'He is a cop.'
'No shit? Man, that sucks. You wanna tell me his name?'
'No. Why?'
'I'll give you twenty bucks.'
Herb slapped himself on the forehead.
'Why do you want to know his name? Are you a cop?'
'Sure, I'm a cop. I'm even wearing a wire. They sent me in here to see if I could make you talk.'
Herb nudged me. 'When this is over, let's leave McGlade in there. He's too stupid to be allowed in society.'
'You're not a cop.' Rushlo talking.
'Of course I'm not a cop. I hate cops. Hey . . . you wanna hear a secret?'
'Sure.'
'I killed a cop once.' Harry was whispering. I turned up the volume.
'Are you kidding?'
'No shit, man. I was on a street corner, talking to this cute little girl, and this cop starts hassling me. I didn't need that kind of hassle, know what I mean? He wants to pat me down, and I'm carrying.'
'You had a gun?'
'Hell yeah, I had a gun. So before he gets a chance to take it away from me, I put him down. Bam Bam! Two in the face. Maybe you read about it, happened a few weeks ago. You wanna hear the cool part?'
'Sure.'
'I liked it.'
'Wow.'
'Yeah, I'm a stone-cold demon, man. I'm the real deal. Hey . . . you rich? I heard funeral homes make a lot of money.'
'I have money.'
'Maybe I can help you out.'
'How?'
'Maybe I could take care of this cop for you. Sneak up on his pig ass and give him a little Bam Bam.'
Nice, Harry. I was actually a little impressed.
'I don't think I want to kill him.'
'He's a pig, man. All pigs should die.'
'I don't know.'
'Would he kill you, if he had the chance?'
'Yes.'
'You've got to take this guy out.'
'But he's my friend.'
Harry's laughter made the speakers shake.
'Do all your friends want to kill you?'
'No. Most of my friends are dead.'
Benedict snorted. 'There's a shock.'
'Well, maybe you and me can make this one dead too, Derrick.'
'I don't know.'
'Your call, man. I'll tell you something, though -- if this guy's a cop, and you think you're safe in here, you're crazy.'
'He's not from this station.'
'Don't matter. He can still get to you. Sneak in when you're sleeping, stick you a few times, and then blame it on one of the convicts. Or put something in your food. Or pay one of the other cons to do it. There's a million ways.'
'Jesus.'
'You could maybe ask to go into protective custody, but that's even worse. Then he'd have a shot at you when you're alone. You should let me take the porker out.'
Another long pause.
