to think about them, brag about them, go over and over how he did it and where he did it and who they were. He kills them again, every night. Probably even in his sleep. And he'll keep doing it, there's no doubt about it. I could find a record of only two of the killings, but he talked about dozens of them. I found the two girls in the coal mine in the paper-I work in the library, I searched everything I could find, but most of them wouldn't have been in the paper-he killed migrants and fringe people, they wouldn't be in the Times and that's the only newspaper we have that goes back…':'He's killed while in here?' 'No. But he's gone, he's out. He got out three weeks ago.'
'Why didn't you tell us about him when he was in here?'
'I did. Look at the dates on the letters. He was still in here… He was still with me. Living with me. Talking about them. Using me… And they cheer, did you know that, Mr. Becker? The other prisoners cheer like it's a sport. I felt like a Christian-I am a Christian-being thrown to the lions and everyone was cheering for the lion.'
Revenge isn't a very Christian sentiment,' Becker said.
Swann had been edging closer to Becker, leaning in across the table, propelled forward by his intensity. Now he sighed audibly and leaned back in his chair.
'I have thought of that,' Swann said. 'I wish my heart were without hate. I have prayed for that… But it hasn't been given.'
'You can always keep praying,' Becker said.
'I always do, Mr. Becker. I always pray. I think that Jesus understands me. I know he does.'
'You're not that hard to understand. Even I can do it.'
'But Jesus not only understands. He forgives.'
'Does he forgive the man you're turning in, too? Does he forgive all those killings?'
'He might,' Swann said. 'I don't.'
'What's his name?'
Once more, Swann looked nervously around the room.
He opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind, shaking his head.
'That doesn't seem like a lot to ask,' Becker said.
'You don't understand how dangerous it is in here,' Swann said. 'If I give you a name, even if they don't know it, I will know it. If anybody asks me if I gave somebody up and I know I've given you his naine-I'm such a bad liar, I get so frightened-they can smell it on you, I swear some of them can smell if you're lying, if you're scared. And he may have friends still in here, I don't think so, I don't think he had any friends but me, but you can't be sure. Isn't there another way? You'll figure it out, you can look at the prison records-if you could find me you can certainly figure out who he is. Just don't make me say his name.
I've got to be able to say I didn't tell you anybody's name and believe it myself.'
'So what are you giving me? What am I here for?'
'Him, I'm giving you him. Those bodies in the newspaper, the girls in the coal mine, he killed them, he admitted it to me, he bragged about it. He's never been tried for those. There are dozens of others. He'll confess to all of them, I think he would have confessed to anyone, anytime, because he's proud of all the killings. He thinks they make him a man. But nobody ever asked him, the cops never knew anything about him because he just drifts, he's done things in states that don't even know he's alive. I can tell you what to ask him.'
'You're willing to testify against him? I thought you wouldn't even tell us his name.'
'If I'm safe, I'll do whatever you want. You can't ask me to risk my life by testifying while I'm still in here.'
'I didn't ask for anything from you, Swann, you sought me out. I was just as happy not knowing anything about this.'
'You don't want to know about this? He's a killer, a serial killer, a mass murderer. I thought you would want to know. What kind of a cop are you?'
'Ex.'
'Then why are you here?'
'Why am I here? I'm here because some shit-faced little come got tired of being buggered every night by the ape who shared his cage and thought he'd be real clever and write secret little notes in code to me. As if I gave a shit. As if I had nothing better to do than get involved in a lovers' spat. What am I supposed to be, your trained dog, you can sic me on anyone you want?'
'Lovers' spat? He's a killer!'
'The country's full of killers. There are more of them outside the walls than in-do you think I want to hunt them all down? There are fourteen-year-old killers in every gang in every housing project in the country. There are people killing their parents and parents throwing their babies out of windows and guys driving by with Uzis and spraying a crowd and lunatics strapping bombs to themselves and wiping out the local McDonald's and there are assholes blowing people away in traffic jams. There are killings on the goddamned sports page. And I haven't even gotten to the ones who kill with a fucking motive.
What do I care if the guy who was fucking you is dusting a few? He's your problem, not mine. You work in the library? Take those scissors you used to cut out my cute little code and plant them in his intestines next time he bends you over, that's how it's done in here, haven't you figured that out? Take care of yourself, you little shit, don't try to get me to do it, I'm not your big brother.'
Swann slumped in the chair, crestfallen.
'You don't believe me about him?'
'What's to believe? There's a guy in prison who's killed somebody? I have no trouble believing that. I just don't give a shit.'
'You're going to betray me, aren't you?' Swann said, his face suddenly terrified. 'You're going to give me to them, you're going to tell them what I've said.'
'Who did you tell?' Becker asked.
'Tell what?'
'Who did you tell about your clever little scheme to get hold of me? How many did you tell?'
'I didn't tell anyone-do you think I'm crazy?'
Becker was on his feet. He jerked the front leg of Swann's chair off the floor with his foot, held the neck of the chair to keep it from falling so that Swann was on his neck, off-balance, halfway to the floor.
'Who did you confide in, who helped you, who were you whispering to about this, Swann?'
'Nobody. It was all my idea.'
'You're not smart enough.'
'The hell I'm not.'
'You're a halfwit who got caught slicing up his landlady. How smart can you be?'
'Smarter than you think.'
'That's not hard. Who taught you the binary code?'
'Nobody. I learned it in the library.'
'Do some.'
I 'What?'
Becker righted the chair and pushed Swann against the table so that he was pinned against his chest. Becker dropped a pen in front of Swann.
'Show me the binary code for 99.'
'Now?'
'No, mail it to me, you little shit. Of course now. Do it there, do it on the table, just the way you sent it to me.'
'You think I can't?'
'Do it.'
'I told you, don't lump me with the rest of these people in here. I'm different.'
'Uh-huh. Do the code.'
Swann was silent for a moment, his hands folded in front of him.
'Do it,' Becker said.
'I'm praying,' Swann said. 'I'm praying for Jesus to change your heart.'
'Pray for him to teach you the binary code real quick.'
'I don't need to pray for that, Mr. Becker. I already know the code. You want 99?'
