'Cary Newlin.' The youthful CO offered his hand to Bear first, then Tim.
'…wouldn't mind showing us the tape and walking us over, we can get out of your hair.'
'Me?' Newlin shrugged his accord. McGraw bowed his head, extending his hands as if in benediction. Sasso steered them out, depositing them in the control center across the hall.
Manned by another team of zombie COs who barely noted Tim and Bear's entrance, a bank of closed-circuit TVs monitored the various prison buildings. The screen labeled 'J' showed mini-frontloaders clearing away mounds of smoldering trash. Officers patrolled the perimeter of the mess while workers loaded more burned refuse into rolling bins. A few roaming COs wielding fire extinguishers continued to blast real or imagined embers, mist settling in a sci-fi layer about their knees. The barn-style steel door had been shoved back to accommodate the equipment, while an officer with an M4 guarded the ten-foot gap and checked the creds of the workers and COs passing through.
Newlin grabbed one of the three tapes atop the corner TV/VCR that Sasso had indicated and began fast- forwarding it. An unlit stretch of empty catwalk, blurred in bands by the tape's movement. It was a tight shot; the security camera must have been mounted on the tier just above.
'The brass chaffing you in there?' he murmured to Tim.
'How ever did you guess?'
'From the way you jumped on my bandwagon.' He offered Tim and Bear a wink with a tip of his head. 'Fellow chaffee.'
Bear pointed at the activity on the live-feed J-Unit screen. 'What are they still looking for in there?'
'Well, no inmate has technically left J-Unit,' Newlin said. 'The only door was secured seconds after Boss's body hit concrete. We figure maybe Walker's still lodged in a duct somewhere. Though at this stage it's wishful thinking. We've been through every inch of the unit twice. He literally vanished. Like, thin air, you know?'
'How'd you settle the riot so quickly?'
'This wasn't a riot, just a tantrum. We're only medium security. Once the last chair and TV get thrown, the inmates lose their juice. Plus, we had a full CO response and DCT-Disturbance Control Team. Power in numbers. We got the boys back in their houses without too much hassle.'
'You notice anything different about Walker's behavior today?'
Newlin swapped out the tape for another one and resumed fast-forwarding. 'Uh-huh.'
The response caught both Tim and Bear by surprise. 'Yes?' Tim said.
'Sure. His mood shifted at night. He was quiet-well, I guess Walker's always quiet. He seemed fine heading off for chow hall. But he came back from dinner, I dunno…off. Sat out TV time.'
'Hadn't done that before?' Tim asked.
'Not that I remember.'
Tim's gaze drifted across the bank of closed-circuit monitors, finding the 'DH' screen. Rows of picnic tables, barely visible in the darkness. 'Can we pull footage from dinner?'
'Hear that, Earl?'
One of the COs, without turning from the screens before him, offered Newlin a lethargic thumbs-up.
Newlin hit 'play.' The time stamp in the bottom right corner of the screen counted up from 20:14:32. Boss Hahn appeared, glimmering with sweat, his chest and stomach muscles pronounced above the towel. He moved with his weight on his heels, his arms bowed to accommodate their girth. A flash of shadow entered the screen, and Walker stood before him, facing away from the camera. A split-second pause, then the rise of the arm, the tap to the neck, the shove over the railing, and Walker vanished in the direction from which he'd come. An instant later the camera vibrated slightly on its mount-Boss Hahn's body hitting the floor.
The entire assault took place in about three seconds.
Rapidly, the catwalk filled with screaming inmates, churning and shoving. In short order they were heaving blankets and microwaves off the tier. The muted action and gloomy lighting gave the scene a sinister, old-fashioned feel.
'His cell's that way?' Tim pointed in the direction from which Jameson had entered and exited the screen.
Newlin nodded. 'Just out of view. So he could've returned to his cell or kept going on the catwalk and shot down the south stairs. The thing is, the stairs are exposed, and the housing unit officer would've seen him.'
'Unless Jameson waited for the riot and then split.'
'Right. By that time the officer would've been out of the unit with the door locked.'
'Anything on the other tapes?'
'They're limited view, as you can see. We've got one on the middle of each tier, like this, and then the general cam'-he pointed to the J-Unit screen-'which only really picks up the range floor and the center of the first tier. We've got a team going over everything, and they've yet to pick anything up.'
'Let's roll the stabbing again,' Tim said. 'Tell me what you see.'
Boss flew up over the railing, landed on his feet. The blood sucked back into his neck. He waddled backward, then headed forward to get murdered again.
'It's an expert strike,' Newlin offered.
'Sure is.' Tim's voice contained an element of admiration. 'He struck right between the skull and the back shelf of the jaw, where it's good and tender. From the look of the blood pressure, he punctured the external carotid, straight up from the heart. Makes for a quicker bleed-out-about seven seconds. Jameson's right-handed, so it's a natural strike.'
Newlin's eyes shifted from the screen to Tim's face, a reappraisal of sorts in the works. 'How do you know he's right-handed?'
'Photo from his days in the Corps shows his rifle slung right to left.' Tim tapped the screen. 'Can we take another look at it?'
They watched the segment through a few more times. The spurt from Boss's punctured neck, when viewed frame by frame, was spectacular. They were just getting ready to leave when Newlin came out of his chair with excitement. 'Hang on. Right there. Check it out.' As Walker moved to shove Boss, his shirt pulled up on the left side, revealing the hems of several undershirts for a split second. 'I thought he looked bulky. He layered up.' Of Bear's puzzled glance, Newlin added, 'Wearing a bunch of shirts. It's a defense against getting stuck. And it lets you pull a quick appearance change after you shiv someone.'
'Why would he need to switch outfits?' Bear said. 'He knows he's on tape.'
'Plus, it's his ambush,' Tim said. 'I doubt he was worried about getting stuck.'
'Maybe he put the shirts on earlier,' Bear offered.
'Pretty damn hot in here to hang out in quadruple layers,' Newlin said.
Bear bobbed his head in agreement. 'Weird.'
Newlin rose and headed for the door. 'Not half as weird as his cell.'
Chapter 5
Unlike Sasso, who pivoted corners on the ball of his foot to preclude a break in stride, Newlin slouched along, swinging the keys around an index finger. In the breezeway, cameras rotated to follow the three men's progress. They reached J-Unit and were promptly halted at the door.
'Creds and badges.' The officer glanced quickly at Tim's and Bear's IDs, his hand never leaving the stock of his M4. 'You're the marshals, huh? You figure this one out, you're better men than me.' He handed Tim an electronic clipboard of the type carried by UPS drivers.
Tim perused the category labels-Name, Position, Time In, Time Out-before punching in his information. 'You've kept this crime-scene log since the stabbing, right?'
'No one has crossed this threshold without signing here and walking past the barrel of my gun.'
'Can we get a look at the records you've kept?'
The officer said sharply, 'I know all these guys. Each name. And I look everyone in the face. No way our boy threw on a uniform and slid past me. No way.'
'All the more reason, then, to give us a hand.'
