He didn’t feel the first stab. He was only aware that he’d been shivved in the back when the blood seeped out, warm and then suddenly cold against his skin. He felt Big Ferg’s bulk against his back, holding him with one arm so he couldn’t spin around as the other arm pumped forward, backward, forward, backward, over and over.
“Sorry, dude,” Ferg whispered. “Just business.”
Jack sat at a library table closest to a wall. He didn’t like having his back to a room under normal circumstances, so in this place his caution was even more extreme. At the warden’s orders, the guards had brought food to them in the library.
Ramirez had been brought along, too, simply because it was easier for the guards to keep track of both of them. Ramirez lifted a clump of gray, dripping food halfway to his mouth and grimaced. “I knew the food in here would be bad, but Jesus—”
Jack wolfed his food down without tasting it. He didn’t expect to like it, but he knew he needed the nutrients while he was locked up in this place. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be here, and he needed his strength.
“Salt,” Ramirez said. “I gotta have salt. Guard, is there any salt?” He turned around in his chair to look at the spot where the guard had been standing. There was no one there.
“The minute you want one of those guys to do some work, they’re gone,” he muttered. He stood up, but Jack grabbed his sleeve, his face going hard and his eyes narrowing.
“Stay here,” he ordered.
Jack knew what was coming the minute the guards disappeared. This MS–13 gang had some connection with the guards, or some hold over them, otherwise they’d never have been able to clear out the showers the way they had. Now they’d done it in the library, too. Jack cursed himself for allowing the isolation, but then he figured it wouldn’t have mattered. In a crowd, he wouldn’t see it coming. At least here he had some warning. Jack stood up and went to the nearest bookshelf. He scanned the books — not the titles, but the sizes — finally finding a short, thick one that fit his hand nicely. He stepped out of the aisle and back to his table just as they appeared.
The thin Latino — Adam Cox had called him Os-car — was there again, this time with three thugs to back him up. Ramirez squeaked and backed up, bumping against the chair behind him.
“You didn’t think we was finished, did you?” Oscar said, sauntering closer. One of his thugs disappeared down one of the aisles, meaning to flank Jack.
“Your two guys seemed finished to me,” Jack said. “You’d have been finished, too, if the guards hadn’t saved you.”
“You gonna want those guards this time,
Jack threw the book at him. It wasn’t heavy enough to do much damage, but it made him flinch, giving Jack time to step forward and kick him in the groin. The kick landed hard, lifting Oscar’s feet off the ground, and the thin man doubled over with a cough. Jack grabbed him by the orange collar and shoved him at the two thugs on his left, then bolted right, down the stack of books. He didn’t like that third man hiding in the stacks, and wanted him neutralized.
“Javie, he’s coming!” one of the other gang-bangers shouted.
The Salvatrucha Javie jumped out from behind a corner and was surprised to see Jack already on top of him. Jack punched him in the face and drove his forehead in right behind the punch, feeling the crown of his head connect with a cheekbone, splitting it. He grabbed Javie’s collar and put a knee into his ribs. Then, stepping past him, he kicked his legs back, sweeping the gang-banger’s feet out from under him. Javie hit the ground hard. Jack raised his knee and stomped on the man’s face.
He walked back down the aisle to the table. Oscar was still curled up on the ground. The other two were on top of Ramirez, one holding him and the other punching him in the face. They were bullies, not soldiers. They had pounced on the weakest member rather than focusing on the real threat. Their mistake.
As soon as Jack reappeared, the puncher turned on him. He was fast, and probably tough, but not skilled. He came at Jack with a killer sneer and two big, flailing hands. Jack threw two straight punches right down the middle. He felt one of the Salvatrucha’s punches box the side of his skull, stinging but doing no damage, while both his punches hit the man in the throat. He gagged. Jack ducked low and put a left hook in the man’s liver. The man stood back for a minute, blinking as though Jack’s punch had no effect. Then his knees buckled.
The last attacker was faster. He’d already thrown Ramirez off, and before Jack could turn he grabbed him from behind, lifted him, and slammed him onto the table. Jack felt his left shoulder go numb and hoped it wasn’t broken. The Salvatrucha tried to lift him again, but Jack dropped his weight, going heavy, then spinning around inside the man’s arms. He dug both hands into the gang-banger’s face and eyes, not just pushing but tearing at the flesh. The man gave a strangled cry and tried to push Jack away, but Jack forced the man’s chin up, then drove it backward and down, doubling the inmate over. Jack released one hand and punched him in the face.
He paused, gasping for breath. His heart was pounding, but his senses were alert. He scanned the room, searching out additional threats. Finding none, his eyes settled on Ramirez, who was staring at him in utter astonishment.
“Holy shit,” the man said. “Who are you?”
“The guy you want on your side.”
“No kidding.” Ramirez looked at the four men, two unconscious, two groaning and quivering in the middle of their own misery. “Who, what do these guys want with you?”
“I don’t know,” Jack said truthfully. It couldn’t be that old event, could it? He’d needed some information from an MS–13 member, but the case itself had little to do with the gang, and once he’d gotten his information, Jack hadn’t touched them again. He couldn’t believe they’d hold a grudge for that, especially against someone they knew to be law enforcement. But he couldn’t think of any other reason. He certainly hadn’t attracted their attention inside the jail.
“You okay?” he thought to ask.
Ramirez’s face was bloody. The punches had surely broken his nose, and his cheek was cut open. A huge mouse was already forming under his right eye, and his teeth were smeared with blood from a cut inside his mouth. “I’m not much of a fighter. And these. ” He shook his head at the four men. “They don’t stop. I know that about them. They never forget, and now they’re not going to forget me.”
“They weren’t after you,” Jack said, still wondering what they were after.
“No, but now I’m part of it. Jesus! I heard a story about them once, that some gang member talked to the Feds and went into the witness protection program. They lost him for seven years. Seven years! He didn’t even testify against them, he just got out. Then one day he turned up dead, the skin peeled off his hands. They cut his throat.” He shuddered.
“You don’t like them, but you said your boss uses them.”
“Not my boss,” Ramirez corrected.“Just a guy I know.”
“Right. This guy who’s got something planned for tomorrow. If MS guys like these are involved, it’s probably not going to go well.”
Ramirez pinched his lips closed. He used his sleeve to dab the blood off his cheek and nose. “You wondering about that little thing tomorrow, huh?”
Jack shook his head. “I have enough of my own problems. Just curious about these.” He kicked Oscar with his toe. “Hey, you,” he said. “What are you after? What am I to you?”
Oscar looked up at him, tears in his eyes. “A dead man.”
Less than twenty minutes had elapsed since Ryan Chappelle had collapsed in the CTU conference room. Five minutes after he’d fallen, the medics were there, and ten minutes after that — ten minutes full of CPR, three applications of the defibrillator paddles, and several medications to stabilize him — a medical team moved Ryan Chappelle out of CTU and toward a waiting ambulance. A moment or two after the defibrillator had restarted his heart, Chappelle had actually opened his eyes. His eyes rolled for a moment, unfocused, and finally settled on Henderson’s angular face.
“Don’t. ” he mouthed. The word was barely audible.
“Just relax, sir,” the medic said, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Chappelle pushed the hand away weakly. “Don’t. ” he said again, his voice a faint breath slipping out of his
