The other cause for concern was the reaction of the inmates.
While each of his prisoners was reprehensible by their crimes, there was almost a kinship between them. When they passed each other during their brief moments of freedom, there was an acceptance of who they were. A disgusting mutual respect had been forged between them, built on the severity of their crimes.
Sam Pope was a vigilante.
He had systematically taken down criminal empires. While Harris couldn’t help but admire the man’s cause, he was worried how the inmates would take to having a criminal killer among them. He had worked hard to keep Ashcroft off the map, but with so much government and police interest in Sam’s incarceration, he knew they would be sniffing around for information.
There was no guarantee he could keep Sam safe.
Nor that his guards would want to.
Without the proper time to prep his team and ensure they were ready; Sam Pope had been dropped on them like an unpinned grenade. Harris grit his teeth as a sharp pain penetrated his mind like a needle and he sat back in his chair and shut his eyes. The MS had been getting worse lately, but now was not the time for his health to fail. With a change in the status quo this big hitting his prison, the last thing he wanted was to hand over the reins to Sharp.
It would most likely end in a blood bath.
Filling his lungs to regulate his breathing, the headache was worsened by a pounding fist on his door. Harris sat forward, rested his hands on his desk and slipped seamlessly back into his well-respected composure.
‘Come in.’
The door opened and Sharp marched in, chest out and with a smug look across his face. Harris was in no doubt that he’d put on a show for Sam, his theatrics were just another reason he dreaded the day Sharp took his seat. Behind him, another armed officer followed, and Harris pushed himself out of his chair as Sam Pope shuffled in. Judging by his short, sharp breaths, Harris suspected Sharp had overstepped his welcome. It was something he’d reprimanded his deputy over before, but there was little hope for changing the man. The final officer stepped through and stood watch at the door, his arms folded on his chest and his eyes on Sam.
The tension was palpable, and Harris uncomfortably stepped around his desk and approached his new prisoner. Standing at six foot, Sam was the same height as the Warden, but looked almost twice his weight in muscle. The MS has withered away at Harris, who had once been a strapping soldier much like Sam. But age and the debilitating illness had taken its toll. Sam stood to attention, trying his best to hide the clear discomfort he was in due to Sharp, and he locked his eyes on Harris, who offered a warm smile.
‘Sam Pope,’ he began, as if regaling his grandkids with a story. ‘I must say, I’m somewhat surprised to see you here.’
Sharp scoffed loudly, but quickly remembered his rank as Harris shot him a thunderous glare.
‘I trust you understand the severity of your situation.’
‘I’m under no illusions, sir.’ Sam spoke calmly, catching the Warden off guard.
‘Now, I’m sure Deputy Warden Sharp has run through the procedures but let me make it clear. This isn’t a deep, dark hole to throw people into. I pride myself on running a tight ship here, but I also take great pride in the care we give our inmates. This may be your final home, but it is home. Now, the restrictions we have in place are non-negotiable, which means you will have to adhere to the schedules. It also means you need to wear a tag. Sharp?’
Harris turned to Sharp, who eagerly approached, his hands wrapped around a metal anklet similar to those used for house arrest. He snapped it around Sam’s left ankle, ensuring it clicked correctly. He smirked at Sam as he stood back up and took a few steps back as Sam turned his attention back to the Warden.
‘All prisoners are tagged at all times, so we can monitor your whereabouts. We haven’t had a riot here in years, but you can never be too careful.’
‘Plus, these bad boys shoot fifty thousand vaults at the click of a button,’ Sharp chimed in. ‘Not enough to kill you, but enough to make you piss your pants.’
‘Quite.’ Harris shot Sharp another stern look, reaffirming his authority. ‘Now with that out of the way, I understand this is a testing time for you. Do you have any questions?’
‘Is there a library, sir?’
The question caught the Warden off guard but drew a snigger from Sharp. Sam surmised that Sharp hadn’t read a book in his life and kept his eyes on the Warden, who drew a comforting smile.
‘We don’t, I’m afraid. However, we do have a weekly shipment of cigarettes, food, and magazines. I’m sure we can get a book or two.’ Harris eased himself onto the edge of his desk, clearly appreciating the rest. ‘You like to read?’
‘I do, sir,’ Sam responded. ‘I find it helps.’
A few chortles could be heard from the other officers, but Harris nodded approvingly.
‘It’s not a bad thing. Especially in here, your mind could use the distraction.’
Sam scanned the room, absorbing the details. There were several cabinets, no doubt containing confidential documents, along with a top of the range Mac Book which sat on the desk. On the walls, he noted the fine art that hung from their hooks. A shelf, crammed with books, was affixed to the far wall, along with a small display of medals.
‘You served, sir?’
Harris turned and glanced at the medals and returned with a proud grin.
‘I did.’ He slowly eased himself off the desk and approached Sam. ‘Many years ago, now. I know about your record, the incredible work you did for this country. It’s not gone
