Amelia refused to head down that dark train of thought. She had to hold out hope for something positive to follow up on. “I think he’d have to know something. The mystery man in their little basement of sin was their cameraman. He’s got to have a first name, and he’s got to know what the guy looks like.”
Zane stretched both legs in front of himself. “And all he’s got for us is that the guy’s a detective and that he’s been on the force for a while.” He snorted. “That doesn’t really narrow it down much.”
“No, it really doesn’t, but…” she glanced at him with a hapless shrug, “there’s only one way to find out, and that means we’ve got to get that idiot to protective custody before one of the Leónes’ errand boys sticks a shank in his liver. It’s only a matter of time before they know he’s up to something.”
Before Zane could reply, the heavy set of metal doors to the right of the reception desk opened. A man stepped through the doorway, and his neatly pressed gray suit jacket and slacks proclaimed him an authority figure. Auburn hair, streaked with silver, was combed straight back from his bearded face, and a pair of black-rimmed glasses gave him a scholarly air.
The man’s eyes flicked from Amelia to Zane and then back. “You must be Agents Palmer and Storm. I’m Donovan Gillem.”
With one more glance at Zane, Amelia pushed to her feet.
As Zane extended a hand, he stepped forward. Even at six-three, Zane only stood a hair taller than the older man. “Warden, nice to meet you. I’m Special Agent Palmer, and this is my partner, Special Agent Storm.”
The warden offered a smile as he shook hands with them, but the warm expression didn’t reach his eyes. Gesturing for Zane and Amelia to follow, Donovan led them down the hall he’d just emerged from. A left turn at the end of the corridor brought them face-to-face with the wood and glass door of an office.
“I’m not usually this tardy, so please accept my apologies.” Donovan unlocked and pulled open the creaky door. “There is always a never-ending stream of meetings at the courthouse.”
Zane nodded politely. “Not a problem at all. Thank you for squeezing us in.”
Donovan waved a hand at two squat chairs. “Have a seat, Agents. What brings you to MCC Chicago?”
Once the warden took his spot behind a gray metal desk, Amelia and Zane took their seats. Resting her coffee cup on one knee, Amelia met Donovan Gillem’s curious stare. “We’re here about an inmate. It’s a sensitive issue, which is why there weren’t any details in the message we left.”
As if a fog had rolled away from the warden’s brain, the man’s eyes sharpened, and he straightened in his seat. “What do you need from me?”
Amelia pushed at the cup’s sleeve with her thumb. Wardens were always a wildcard. Some were completely cooperative while others hated when orders came down from on high, telling them what to do with their inmates. She hoped Gillem would be the former. “We need an inmate put in protective custody as soon as you’re able. Today, preferably…please. He’s a Federal witness.”
Donovan’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead. “A Federal witness? How long has he been working with the Bureau?”
Zane glanced at his watch. “Since about a half hour ago.”
“Oh.” Scooting forward, Donovan rested both elbows on the desk. “Well, we can get him moved, but our protective custody spaces are currently full. Since this is a temporary facility, we don’t keep as many spots reserved for something like that.”
A stone sank into the pit of Amelia’s stomach. Nothing could just be easy, could it? “How soon can you move him?”
The warden rubbed his bearded chin. “We’ll need the paperwork from the prosecutor to show he’s a high-value witness before we can begin the moving process. It takes a couple of hours.”
Zane raised a hand before Amelia could reply. “Wait. You need the paperwork from the U.S. Attorney’s Office? The Assistant U.S. Attorney hasn’t even stepped into a courtroom yet.” He gestured to himself and then Amelia. “We’re the agents working the case. The agents who’ve been working it. He’s a witness. Unfortunately, an important one too. I can tell you right now that if anyone finds out that he’s a witness, which they will, then he’s as good as dead. And if he’s dead, then our whole damned case is dead.”
Holding up both hands, Donovan gave them a look that Amelia would have labeled as patronizing if it didn’t also hold a hint of arrogance. “I understand the urgency, but even I have to get approval to do something like this when protective custody is full. Putting a new inmate in a more secure location means that we’ll have to remove another, and to get approval to do that, I need paperwork from the case prosecutor.”
As much as Amelia wanted to spit out a slew of four-letter words to describe the urgency of the situation, she bit her tongue. Donovan Gillem might have been a prison warden, but his status didn’t render him above reproach. For all she and Zane knew, Donovan was a rat.
Amelia considered their options. The U.S. Marshals could be called in but that could also take a couple hours. They could take Carlo to an FBI safe house, but they’d need a shit ton of paperwork for that too.
“Then put him somewhere temporarily.” She nodded at the warden’s closed door. “Put him in a broom closet for all I care. Please. Anything to get him away from the general population. We don’t have the Federal prosecutor on call, you know that, right? It might take two days, maybe three. And in the meantime, every minute our witness is in gen-pop is a minute someone could kill him.”
The warden dropped both arms to rest on the desk. “I’m aware, Agents, but my hands are tied
