I walked slowly towards her.
She waited, her eyes searching my face.
“Any trouble up here?” I asked, when I was within six feet of her.
Her face remained expressionless. “What makes you think there is?” she asked.
“I heard that scream. I was on the next floor, so I came up,” I said, looking her over.
“A real conscientious screw,” she sneered, but I could see my look had registered. “You’ve no business up here. Beat it!”
“Okay,” I said, shrugging. “You don’t have to be mad at me.” I let my eyes drift up and down her body. “I wouldn’t like anything to happen to a cute trick like you.”
“Wouldn’t you?” she said. “Come inside and tell me why.”
I hesitated, then walked past her into a small room fitted as an office. It was as hard and clean and masculine as she was.
She leaned her hips against the edge of the desk and folded her arms.
“Haven’t seen you before,” she said.
“I’m one of the new guards from Station Headquarters,” I explained, and sat on the edge of the desk beside her. We were close; my shoulder touched her shoulder. She had to turn her head to look at me.
“I’ve seen you somewhere before,” she said, a puzzled, curious look in her eyes.
“I saw you yesterday,” I lied glibly, “I was manning the barricade when you passed.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You look like that new mortician in the P.M. room,” she said.
I grinned. “He’s my brother. We’re often mistaken for each other. He’s fatter in the face than I am, and he hasn’t a way with women.”
“You have?” The sneer in her voice was pronounced.
I winked at her. “I go for women in a big way. They go for me, too.”
“Maybe that’s why you came sneaking up to the women’s quarters,” she said.
“The dame’s scream scared me. I thought she’d got hold of you.”
A thin wolfish expression lit her face. “They don’t get hold of me,” she said quietly. “They know better.”
“Tough, eh?” I said, admiring her. I leaned closer to her. “I could go for you in a big way.”
She stood up and walked to the door. “Dust,” she said, “and don’t come up here again. If you hear any more screams forget it. There’s nothing on this floor I can’t handle.”
“I can believe it,” I said, walking to the door. “Well, so long, lady; if there’s anything I can do for you, you’ll find me on the next floor.”
“Scram,” she said impatiently.
She came to the head of the stairs to watch me go. I went down and along the passage of B floor. I waited a moment, listening. I heard her go back to her office. The door clicked shut.
I gave her a moment, then moving quickly, I ran up the stairs again, crossed the landing, whipped out the pass-key and unlocked the grill. I moved with urgent haste. My mouth was dry, my heart pounded. I slid back the grill. It moved easily, without sound.
I stepped through and slid the grill into place, locked it.
Then I walked down the narrow gallery towards Miss Wonderly’s cell.
6
The first three cells were empty. There was a smell of disinfectant and unwashed bodies in the air. I made no sound on the rubber flooring, but I walked on my toes down the narrow gangway, one side of which was the row of cells, and on the other side the high wire screen guarding the sheer drop into the main hall of the prison below. The mesh of the wire screen was so fine that it was not possible to see through it into the lower galleries.
There was movement in the fourth cell. I paused, peered in. A fat old woman, raddled, decaying, grinned toothlessly at me.
“Hello, pretty boy,” she said, waddling to the bars. She grasped the bars with raw hands. “Ain’t seen a man for ten years. Coming to see me, precious?”
My face was stiff with fright. I shook my head, edged past her, my back scraping along the wire screen.
“After the young ’un, are you?” she leered. “You’ll like her. But watch Bugsey. She’s in the next cell. She hates screws.”
I edged on, staring at the old woman fascinated. As I came to the sixth cell an arm shot through the bars, a thin, sinewy hand gripped my wrist.
I started back, trying to drag myself free. The grip bit into my flesh. The bloodless fingers were terribly strong.
My face was damp with sweat. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach.
I allowed the hand to pull me to the bars so that my face was against the cold steel of the door. I found myself face to face with a young blonde whose mad burning eyes glared ferociously at me. She hissed at me through clenched teeth. Little flecks of foam bubbled on her lips. My hair moved on the back of my neck, my heart skipped a beat. Her other hand whipped through the bars and caught my coat collar.
My heart began to pound again. I was scared.
“Hello, copper,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for you.” She closed one eyelid in a gruesome wink. “I’m going to kill you,” she went on, in a stage whisper.
“No, you’re not,” I said, bracing my feet against the bars. “I’m going to get you out of here.”
She sounded off with her crazy, high-pitched laugh. It sent spiders’ legs up and down my back.
“They won’t let me out,” she said. Her smile was sad and cunning. “They know what I’ll do to them. I’m going to do it to you.” Her face tightened, her eyes narrowed. “I’m going to tear your throat out.”
I got my feet against the bars, and suddenly heaved back-backwards. I broke her hold and I fell against the wire screen, slid to the floor.
She glared at me, beating her hands against the bars. As I struggled to sit up, she flopped down on her knees, grabbed my ankle. I kicked at her with my free foot, but I couldn’t reach her because of the bars. She held my ankle between her two hands and hauled. I choked back a yell of fright as I felt myself sliding across the rubber floor. I grabbed at the wire screen, but she jerked, breaking my hold. She hauled me towards her like a landed fish.
I kicked and twisted, but I couldn’t get my leg free. The raddled old woman was watching, giggling with excitement.
“She’ll cut your heart out,” she whispered to me.
Sweat ran down my face, and I struggled and writhed in blind panic. There was something about the mad woman’s face and the way she laughed and muttered to herself that scared me silly.
I was now against the bars. She released my leg and grabbed my coat again. Our faces were
close. I could smell her sour breath. She turned me sick with horror.
“What’s the matter with you?” I panted. “I’m going to get you out of here. You and the kid next door.”
“You’re not touching her,” she snarled. “They’ve done enough to her. I’ll stop you and I’ll stop them touching her again. Come closer, copper. I want to get my hands on your dirty neck.”
I tried to pull away, but she dragged me closer, her hooked fingers moving in little jerks up to my neck. She was so intent watching my face that she didn’t see that I’d drawn back my leg.
I placed my foot gently on her chest, then kicked out with all my strength.
She shot over backwards, the breath rushing out of her body. Released, I staggered to my feet, reeled against the wire screen. I was trembling, and could scarcely stand.
“That gave you a fright,” Edna Robbins sneered.
I went cold, turned.
Edna was standing just inside the grill. She was watching me. Her small, sharp nose looked pinched, her eyes dangerous.
The raddled old woman had disappeared to the back of her cell. The mad woman lay on the floor, gasping and wheezing for breath.
