feet.
'That hurts!'
'Come on, let's get your friends.'
Maria was wearing only panties and was too stoned to do any looking. Roberta was conscious and afraid. He didn't want to look at them, not now. He didn't have time. Kelly got them together and forced them down the stairs, then outside. None had shoes, and the combination of drugs and the grit and glass on the sidewalk made them walk in a crippled fashion, whimpering and crying on their way east. Kelly pushed at them, growled at them, making them move faster, fearing nothing more grave than a passing car, because that was enough to wreck everything he'd done. Speed was vital, and it took ten minutes as endless as his race down the hill from sender green, but the police car was still there where he'd left it. Kelly unlocked the front and told the women to get in. He'd lied about the keys.
'What the fuck!' Monroe objected. Kelly handed the keys to Paula, who seemed the best able to drive. At least she was able to hold her head up. The other two huddled on the right side, careful to keep their legs away from the radio.
'Officer Monroe, these ladies will be driving you to your station. I have instructions for you. You ready to listen?'
'I got a choice, asshole?'
'You want to play power games or do you want some good information?' Kelly asked as reasonably as he could. Two pairs of sober eyes lingered in a long moment of contact. Monroe swallowed hard on his pride and nodded..
'Go ahead.'
'Sergeant Tom Douglas is the man you want to talk to - nobody else, just him. These ladies are in some really deep shit. They can help you break some major cases. Nobody but him - that's important, okay?' You fuck that up and we'll meet again, Kelly's eyes told him.
Monroe caught all the messages and nodded his head. 'Yeah.'
'Paula, you drive, don't stop for anything, no matter what he says, you got that?' The girl nodded. She'd seen him kill two men. 'Get moving!'
She really was too intoxicated to drive, but it was the best he could do. The police car crept away, scraping a telephone pole halfway down the alley. Then it turned the corner and was gone. Kelly took a deep breath, turning back to where his own auto was. He hadn't saved Pam. He hadn't saved Doris. But he had saved these three, and Xantha, at a peril to his life that had at turns been both unintentional and necessary. It was almost enough.
But not quite.
The two- truck convoy had to take a route even more circuitous than planned, and they didn't arrive at the destination until after noon. That was Hoa Lo Prison. The name meant 'place of cooking fires,' and its reputation was well known to the Americans. When the trucks had pulled into the courtyard and the gates were secure, the men were let down. Again, each man was given an individual guard who took him inside. They were allowed a drink of water and nothing more before assignment to individual cells that were scattered around, and presently Robin Zacharias found his. It wasn't much of a change, really. He found a nice piece of floor and sat down, tired from the journey, resting his head against the wall. It took several minutes before he heard the tapping.
Shave and a haircut, six-bits.
Shave and a haircut, six-bits.
His eyes opened. He had to think. The POWs used a communications code as simple as it was old, a graphic alphabet.
A
?
?
