A gun in the hands of a crook would only be used to overpower officers. Someone was planning to bust out and the gun would be their key to the outside. I let the scenario float around my mind for a few minutes, a strange grin on my face I couldn’t shake. I was right, of that I was sure. But who?
I didn’t know and as I began to relax, saw the newspaper Frank had given me. I reached for it, then sat back against the wall, resting the paper on my legs as I slowly began to flick through the pages. The first few pages held nothing of interest, save for an article here and there about world affairs. But the headline on page 8 gripped my attention instantly.
Shooting Victim Remains in Coma
Something about that headline called to me, willing me to read further. I did and to my horror, the words immediately answered a number of questions.
One of two men gunned down in a vicious late-night attack 2 days ago remains in an intensive care unit, clinging to life in an induced coma. Francisco De Bane was brutally gunned down with another man in his Milton Park home 2 nights ago. While the second man, believed to be De Bane’s personal lawyer Giorgio Ling, died at the scene, De Bane himself continues to hang on to life, with doctors unsure of whether the victim will survive.
Both men were gunned down execution style, receiving gunshot wounds to the back of the head. Police believe the men knew their attackers, with no forced entry found at the home. With very few leads to go on, detectives are appealing for anyone with any information to come forward.
By the time I finished reading, my head felt hot with anger, tears flowing freely from my eyes. I knew instantly that it was Frank. Maybe not directly, but he’d had a hand in whatever happened to my father and Giorgio. I jumped to my feet and briefly paced my cell. I was trying to calm the rage building within me, but it was no good.
I ran to the cell door, punched it once and then kicked it repeatedly.
“MOTHERFUCKER!” I screamed, then continued to kick the door. I barely heard the response from a few of the boys out in the unit, but their shouting was there none the less. I felt torn in half, the murder of Aiden pouring back into my mind as I looked at the paper in my hand. I began to hit the edge of the shower stall with it, again and again. Bits of paper were flying this way and that, some of it floating on air. After a few seconds, the cell looked as if someone had had a pillow fight, the scraps filling the air like snow.
I dropped to my knees as I realized it was no good. I remained as much a victim now as I did back then, the only difference was those pulling the strings. I needed to get out, either from the unit or the prison. I needed to distance myself from this place as soon as possible, before I dealt with matters in my own way.
Chapter 4
1.
It was Hal that saved me from making the biggest mistake of my life. I didn’t sleep the entire night and was ready to kill Frank by the time the unit was unlocked the next morning. It was my luck that Hal’s cell was unlocked before mine, waiting for the screws to unlock my door before making a beeline for me.
We met just as I walked through my door, the unit’s common area still relatively empty.
“Back in your cell,” he hissed as I walked out. I went to object, to push him aside and march on up to Frank’s cell, but Hal punched me in the stomach, the wind knocked out of my lungs before I knew what was happening. Hal ceased the opportunity and pushed my wheezing corpse back into my cell and closed the door behind us. “You wanna get killed, dickhead?”
2.
To his credit, he was right. I don’t know whether he knew just how right he was considering the weapon I had delivered to Frank the previous night. It would take a really stupid man to attack someone they knew to possess a handgun and I wasn’t about to get shot by that.
It took all of my conscious will to calm myself enough to sit down. Hal looked concerned for me; genuine concern I could feel. There was a quiet tap on my door and when I looked up, saw Jack poking his head in. He looked just as anxious as Hal and I suddenly realized they knew.
“How long have you guys known?” I asked, finally calm enough to suck good clean air into my lungs again. I felt a little woozy and hoped I wasn’t showing it to these 2.
“Saw it in the paper a couple of days ago,” Jack said, Hal nodding in agreeance. They exchanged a look that reminded me of Frank and Danny that day back before Nick’s daughter.
“What are you guys not telling me?” I asked. I could see the pair of them shift in their seats, the information they held weighing heavily on their minds. “Jack?” I asked, knowing he would be the weakest.
“Word is, it was Razzie,” Hal said as Jack opened his mouth to speak. I turned to him, completely dumbstruck. “I heard Frank sent Razzie after your dad to make up for stealing from him. I don’t know why, though. I’m sorry, Dylan.”
The name hit me hard. Razzie was a friend and a close one at that. Not as close as Jack but he was one of us. To find out that he’d betrayed me cut deep. The emotions surrounding the whole thing were confusing to say the least. It was betrayal, loss, anger and fear all mixed into a giant drink bottle and I was
