'Tell me about it. Anyway, he's out in the yard every day sayin' I'm his bitch. I got to wear Revlon Love Dew lipstick during lock-down. And a blond wig, Stoke; man calls me his little 'Cuban Firecracker' I'm telling you, man, it's just a matter of time before I get my butt fucked. Flipping out in here, I'm saying, I mean what the hell, man? I didn't put in for this shit.'
Luis Gonzales-Gonzales sounding all wound up like he was about to come unsprung.
'You juiced right now, Shark? You jacked up on shit?'
'Ah, hell, no. Clean and mean. Ask me a question.'
'Capital of Idaho?' said Stoke. Shark, for God knows what reason, had decided long ago it would be a good idea to memorize all the U.S. state capitals.
'Boise.'
'Alaska.'
'Juneau. Okay? Satisfied? I ain't wrecked. Now get my ass the fuck out, boss.'
'Anybody else troubling you?'
'Lemme see. Aryan Brotherhood? Yeah, they're troublesome. Big white asshole skinhead with a swastika on his forehead. Calls himself 'The Bonecrusher.' And there's this other guy see, in that Islam cell you want me to penetrate. He's this Black Muslim cat, calls himself Ishtar, big sonofabitch, three hundred pounds at least. Eyes bulging out his head like hard-boiled eggs. He says he catches me doing the nasty with the Chief he's going to cut my dick off with a razor, one inch at a time.'
'That shouldn't take too long.'
'Don't mess with me right now, Stoke. Serious. I can't take this place a second longer. And when I get out, I'm taking early retirement. Spend more time with my remaining limbs.'
'Sharkey, you know how to protect yourself against this kind of shit. You got your shank.'
'Shit, that's the thing. They did a shakedown of my cell and found my shiv inside my mattress. I got nothing, man, nothing. You know what it's like to be a one-armed Cuban cat doesn't weigh much more than a hundred pounds in a bug-house full of homicidal maniacs like the Glades?'
'Did you penetrate that radical Islam cell yet? Get me some names besides this Ishtar cat? Say yes and you can come out.'
'Penetrate the cell? Fuck, that's the problem. I penetrated the damn cell and now they trying to penetrate me! That's what I'm talking about, Stoke. Penetrate my ass! And if I don't pick up the soap, they whack me. I gotta come out, Stoke. Please get me out. I'm beggin' you. I can't do another day in stir.'
'Look, Sharkey, I understand. But we need to get inside these bad boys' heads and find out what the hell kind of bad shit they got in mind once they get out.'
'I found out some stuff today, peeking at the Wizard's laptop when nobody was looking.'
'Wizard?'
'Little old Pakistani guy who seems in charge. Looks like Yoda in Star Wars. Has this long pointed white beard. Wears a robe all the time, some kinda Arab writing all over it. Talks like Yoda too. I think he does it on purpose, you know, give himself a little personality.'
'He's got a computer? You can't have a computer in the slam, man.'
'He does, Stoke, all I can tell you. Smuggled in by a guard at Admin who's on the little guy's payroll, how do I know? Got one of those little plug-in aerials that gives you Internet access.'
'Where's he hide it?'
'I dunno. I heard about it and paid some guard named Figg a grand to let me get a quick look at it when everybody was out in the Yard.'
'Can you get back at that computer? Steal it? Then you can come out.'
'I got to come out now, man, I'm serious. Ishtar catches me poking around trying to steal the Wizard's shit, I'm dead on arrival.'
'Calm down, Sharkey. I got an idea. I don't like it, but I guess I got no choice but to do it.'
'Tell me.'
'I'm coming inside with you.'
'What?'
'I can get myself incarcerated at the Glades with you. Have us put in a cell together so I can take care of your skinny ass. Keep you from getting married to somebody you're not totally in love with. Steal the Wizard's computer.'
'Okay, okay, that's really sounding good, man, but when?'
'Tell me where the Wizard keeps his laptop and how the hell they let a con have one in the joint.'
'Smuggled in. He's got a battery charger and some kind of antenna he plugs into it that picks up cell-phone towers, I think. What do I know. No idea where he hides it but someplace good because the hacks toss his cell all the damn time and they can't find it. So, when? Like, tomorrow?'
'As soon as I put away the bitch tried to kill me and almost killed my good friend Fast Eddie Falco.'
'How long will that take, you figure?'
'Not long. I'm sitting on her twenty million bucks but she has to go through me to get it.'
'Why can't Harry do that? He's goddamn CIA.'
'Harry sucks at surveillance. No patience. He's got severe attention deficit syndrome.'
'What?'
'Don't worry about it. Just hang in there, okay? Stop taking showers for a few days. Maybe the stink'll keep 'em away from you too. I'll come take care of you, Sharkey, I promise.'
'Okay. But what do I do until you get here?'
'Eat a lightbulb and get yourself sent to the prison hospital.'
'Eat a lightbulb?'
'Nobody said it would be easy, Shark.'
Stoke hung up. He would have killed to go back to sleep but it was 6:00 a.m. and he had to go relieve his partner.
He grabbed some coffee in the kitchen and went out into the living room. Harry was on the floor doing push- ups, which was okay as long as he kept one eye on the monitor.
'Beddy-bye time, little buddy,' Stoke said to Brock, sitting down in the armchair and sipping his hot java. 'The hell are you doing down there?'
'I'm trying to wear myself out so I go to sleep instantly,' Harry said, the words coming out funny because of the push-ups. 'Think I ate too many reds.'
'Clock is ticking, partner.'
'Twenty more.'
'Anything interesting happen on TV?'
'Yeah, I guess. Somebody checked in.'
'What?'
'Yeah. The night manager called me from the front desk about three in the morning. Some sheik and his family. Just flew in from Dubai. You know what they charge for that suite across the hall? Ten grand a night.'
'Harry. Tell me you checked this guy out.'
'Of course. That's why we're in this fucking dump.'
'And?'
'And it was a sheik and his family, like the guy said. Wife, dog, five little rug rats all under the age of ten. And luggage. Two bellmen with carts stacked with those big steamer trunks, the luggage with the brown LVs all over, you know what I mean?'
'Louis Vuitton.'
'Yeah, those. Okay, that's it. I'm hitting the sack, pards. Keep your eyes open.'
'Harry. Stop.'
'What?'
'Come back here. Describe the wife. Tell me exactly what she looked like.'
'The wife? Hell, Stoke, it was a whole family. Seven of them, like I told you. Oh, and a little white dog on a diamond-studded leash.'
'What did the wife look like, Harry?'
