'He must be a smart bitch to think that one up,' Greener said.
Hackett pressed his lips together as he looked out over the rolling waves. 'He's a fuckin' genius, that kid. Shouldn't have let him read so much shit at Maingate. They tested him at the ward. Twice. Thought they fucked up the first time. A genius.' He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 'Which makes him all the more goddamn dangerous.'
They stood silently for a while, finishing their cigarettes as the sun dipped to the hazy horizon. A few seagulls flew overhead, then wrangled over some dead crabs that had washed ashore.
A burst of thunder swept across the gray sky.
'We'd better get dinner ready now in case we have to close the Hatch on account of rain,' Hackett said.
'What's on the menu this morning, boss?'
'Yogurt,' they both said together, and Hackett reluctantly joined in Greener's laughter.
Greener went into the small shed on the roof of the Tower and pulled out the tray with loaves on it, grabbing the pronged metal arm. The arm enabled the guards to deliver the loaves from the elevator, sliding them through the food hole at the base of the door. Maximum distance, maximum safety. It also had a plastic loop that the guard put around his wrist so a prisoner couldn't yank it away.
Greener checked the monitor that displayed the prisoners' location sensors. Eighteen blinking lights lined up in two rows. One red flashing light after another.
When he walked out of the shed, Hackett passed him the keys. 'Why don't you grab another jacket out of storage,' he said. 'Last thing I need is you getting even more wet behind the ears.' He grinned affectionately as Greener took the keys and hooked them through his belt. 'And grab a couple of extras while you're down there.'
'All right, hotshot,' Greener said, leaning over to pick up the tray
Chapter 7
Heading onto the elevator, Greener launched into what had become his customary routine: 'Okay, kids, wake up! The menu today consists of, surprisingly, a fucking loaf. We were flying in a new recipe straight from Paris- that's in France, Cyprus-where they've been doing experimentation with escargot souffles. Unfortunately, the plane crashed, so you get to eat this shit again.'
'Fuck you, Greener-'
'Greener, you asshole-'
He smiled. 'The choirboys speak.'
He placed a loaf down on Level Eleven and, extending the arm, slid it under the door of Unit 11A. Claude Rivers did not stir.
'Here you go, Van Winkle. Try not to choke on it.' He held the elevator control with its big red buttons in his left hand. It was a remote unit that could fit into a front pocket. 'All right, here we go. More four-star dining. Looks like we'll be skipping Jonsten today.' He shook his head at Spade as the elevator platform settled at Level Ten. 'Spade, you sicko. Don't we feed you enough?'
'Yeah, fuck you.'
'Well, it's good to see your vocabulary's expanding in here. I'll put in a good word to your parole officer-oh wait. That's right. You don't have a parole officer.'
Spade sneered, his curled lip rising until its wrinkles met those from his squinting eye. Greener looked over at Allander, who was lying facedown on the floor with the blue blanket draped over his waist. 'Hey, Atlasia, you want breakfast?'
No response.
'Hey, junior, you want some food? Come on, I'll even let you eat with a sharpened spoon.' No response. Greener knew that the prisoners sometimes lay like that to look at the man below-intimidating, hateful stares that lasted all day. It wasn't like Allander, he thought, but it wasn't that unusual either. 'All right,' he said. 'Lie there and I'll get you on the way up.'
He pushed the big red button on the remote and the elevator's gears clicked, lowering him another level. 'Hey there, Cyprus, ya big inbreed you. Sorry I couldn't bring you a distant cousin to enjoy, but how about a nice deep- fried fun loaf?'
'I could have you killed the minute you step foot off this Tower, Greener.'
'Well, Billy Ray-'
'I told you, don't you fuckin' call me that.'
'All right, Sir Cyprus. I'm sure you could have me killed, but unfortunately…' Greener surveyed the bleak steel walls around him. 'Unfortunately, I don't see a pay phone around here anywhere. Or a quarter.'
Cyprus scowled and ran his palm over his chin. 'And you're not due for a parole hearing…,' Greener said, checking his watch carefully, 'for about two hundred and eighteen years.'
'Two hundred seventeen, six months, and four days or else when the good Lord Jesus comes to free the Master Race. And he won't be taking you along.'
'Now that hurts. I'm sorry to say it, Cyprus, but you're off my Christmas-card list.' Greener checked his sheet. 'Love to shoot the shit with you all day, farm boy, but I gots some grits to deliver.' Smiling, he rode the elevator out of view.
He grimaced at the thick odor surrounding Level Three. Mills was down on his haunches in the corner, his hands resting on the ground. Greener said nothing as he slid the loaf through the opening. He didn't watch as Mills scurried over to it, but he could hear him start to eat.
When he finally reached Level Two, Tommy was ready with a complaint.
'Greener, you gotta listen to me. This food's fuckin' killing me. It's hurting me, it really is. Cruel and unusual, eh? It's bad for a man's soul to eat like this. To eat this. Bring me one good meal. One plate of fusilli, sausage and tomato sauce with oregano and basil. I'll make you a rich man. You know I can. One plate, Greener, one plate.'
'I'm sorry, Tommy. Can't do it. But I did specially prepare this loaf for you. Unfortunately, I cut off the tips of my fingers making it, but you'll enjoy those, I'm sure. It'll remind you of old times.'
'You mameluke.' Tommy wrung his hands as he paced his cell. 'It used to be you could bribe a guard. What happened, the Democrats back in office?'
'Sorry, not allowed to tell you. Remember, the 'no access to outside information' rule?' Greener glanced over at Safran, who was staring through the bars. Dried blood from a recent nosebleed had crusted around his lips and down his lower cheek. 'Well hello, my little beacon of sunshine. A pleasure as always. Today's specials are-'
'Food. The food. Give me to it.'
'Well, a little pronoun confusion going on, but I think you've earned your loaf anyway for your charming display of social skills. Come on, guys, let's give him a hand.'
'Can you believe him, this guy here?' Tommy shook his head and gestured painfully at Safran as Greener clicked the button to lower the platform. 'All the criminals in the world, I get stuck next to fucko over here.'
The platform stopped on the first level and Greener unlocked Unit 1A, the main storage area. He grabbed a couple of slickers before swinging the door shut and relocking it.
'Jesus Christ!' Greener yelled as the elevator rose. 'For a bunch of fuckin' criminals, you'd think one of you'd have a goddamn sense of humor.' He snickered to himself. 'Mr. Greener, you've just won the chance to be a prison guard. Where are you going to go? Well, Bob, I think I'll waste my life away in the Tower! That's right, ceaseless fun for the whole family.'
As he came up on Level Ten, he noticed the last loaf by his foot. 'Oh yeah, Atlasia. You want this? Last call. Come on, I'm gonna eat it myself.'
Allander still lay facedown by his unit door, not moving. Greener called up the Hole, 'Hey, Hackett! Hackett!'
There was no answer from above, just the rising wind sucking across the top of the Hole. He decided Hackett was probably leaning over the parapet, watching the waves crash against the stone.
He reached the metal arm through the food slot and prodded Allander before jerking it back out. No
