rise, Tice was silent, looking down at the old spy.
Westwood stopped ten feet away. Dry in his hip boots, he rolled easily with the lake’s surges. “Of course, some people think fox fire is caused by demons or ghosts. They’re the type who blame other people for everything. But you’re not like that, are you, Jay? You believe in responsibility. Honor. Decency.”
Now Tice understood. “You should’ve created a cross fire for me as soon as he started shooting. He might well be dead. And I could be, too.”
Westwood nodded. “But that wouldn’t be such a tragic loss, now, would it?” He snapped up his M-16 and aimed it at Tice. “You goddamned traitor!”
6
Allenwood Federal Correctional Complex
Allenwood, Pennsylvania
The rural Pennsylvania air was heavy and motionless around the quiet U.S. federal penitentiary. Incarceration, administration, and support buildings stood with military precision on the manicured grounds. At the exercise yard, uniformed guards watched prisoners raking gravel. Most inmates were in their cells or at their prison jobs—everything from food preparation to laundry and an upholstery factory.
Elaine studied the layout as she walked toward Lieutenant David Oxley, Bureau of Prisons. Slight but tall, he had a large nose and weary black eyes that brushed over her. There was a look about him of fine furniture that had grown worn, comfortable, and tired with the years. She guessed he was close to sixty.
He extended his hand. “The CIA has arrived.”
“And the BOP is waiting.” Elaine smiled and shook the hand. “Good to meet you.” As they walked off together, she asked, “Has the FBI figured out yet how Tice and Theosopholis escaped?”
“Not yet. I take it the CIA hasn’t found them.”
“Not yet. But we will.”
“See those pole lights?” There were some two dozen, so tall they towered over the buildings. “You might guess they give off a lot of light since this is a prison and security’s an issue, and you’d be right. They’re so powerful that locals complain. In fact, one of my guards says he can spot his black spaniel at more than five hundred feet in the dead of night. Still, no one seems to have seen the prisoners escape.”
“You think they got out on their own?”
“It’s always the first question. The FBI’s finished interviewing the six security officers who were working that part of the building, and they’re as baffled as the FBI. I kept them here for you. They’re pretty whipped, though. They’ve been up all night.”
“I’ll meet them first. If Tice and Theosopholis had outside help, maybe it was someone who wasn’t scheduled to work the shift. He—or they—could’ve come back to make the breakout happen.”
“Doubt it. The president’s new budget hit the BOP hard again, and that means some things don’t get done. But you can count on our keeping a perfect record of who checks in and out. Only one employee came back last night—to pick up his books for a class he’s taking, and he was gone by midnight.”
“Maybe a private car or truck’s been stolen from one of the parking lots. Are any missing?”
Lieutenant Oxley peered at her glumly and shook his head. “I wish.”
She nodded to herself. She was getting nowhere, and figuring out how the men escaped was not her job. But who they were, their relationship, and especially their contacts with the outside world were.
“What about e-mail, snail mail, and phone calls?” she asked.
“Inmates don’t have e-mail access,” he told her, “and by law we can’t touch anything between them and their lawyers. Theosopholis has family in Atlanta that he exchanges letters with. Some have visited him, but not often. But then, Atlanta’s a long bus ride away. We gave that information to your people for follow-up.”
“And Tice?”
“He gets the usual hate letters and marriage proposals. He throws them away. The media still ask for interviews, but he always turns them down.
Westwood stopped ten feet away. Dry in his hip boots, he rolled easily with the lake’s surges. “Of course, some people think fox fire is caused by demons or ghosts. They’re the type who blame other people for everything. But you’re not like that, are you, Jay? You believe in responsibility. Honor. Decency.”
Now Tice understood. “You should’ve created a cross fire for me as soon as he started shooting. He might well be dead. And I could be, too.”
Westwood nodded. “But that wouldn’t be such a tragic loss, now, would it?” He snapped up his M-16 and aimed it at Tice. “You goddamned traitor!”
6
Allenwood Federal Correctional Complex
Allenwood, Pennsylvania
The rural Pennsylvania air was heavy and motionless around the quiet U.S. federal penitentiary. Incarceration, administration, and support buildings stood with military precision on the manicured grounds. At the exercise yard, uniformed guards watched prisoners raking gravel. Most inmates were in their cells or at their prison jobs—everything from food preparation to laundry and an upholstery factory.
Elaine studied the layout as she walked toward Lieutenant David Oxley, Bureau of Prisons. Slight but tall, he had a large nose and weary black eyes that brushed over her. There was a look about him of fine furniture that had grown worn, comfortable, and tired with the years. She guessed he was close to sixty.
He extended his hand. “The CIA has arrived.”
“And the BOP is waiting.” Elaine smiled and shook the hand. “Good to meet you.” As they walked off together, she asked, “Has the FBI figured out yet how Tice and Theosopholis escaped?”
“Not yet. I take it the CIA hasn’t found them.”
“Not yet. But we will.”
“See those pole lights?” There were some two dozen, so tall they towered over the buildings. “You might guess they give off a lot of light since this is a prison and security’s an issue, and you’d be right. They’re so powerful that locals complain. In fact, one of my guards says he can spot his black spaniel at more than five hundred feet in the dead of night. Still, no one seems to have seen the prisoners escape.”
“You think they got out on their own?”
“It’s always the first question. The FBI’s finished interviewing the six security officers who were working that part of the building, and they’re as baffled as the FBI. I kept them here for you. They’re pretty whipped, though. They’ve been up all night.”
“I’ll meet them first. If Tice and Theosopholis had outside help, maybe it was someone who wasn’t scheduled to work the shift. He—or they—could’ve come back to make the breakout happen.”
“Doubt it. The president’s new budget hit the BOP hard again, and that means some things don’t get done. But you can count on our keeping a perfect record of who checks in and out. Only one employee came back last night—to pick up his books for a class he’s taking, and he was gone by midnight.”
“Maybe a private car or truck’s been stolen from one of the parking lots. Are any missing?”
Lieutenant Oxley peered at her glumly and shook his head. “I wish.”
She nodded to herself. She was getting nowhere, and figuring out how the men escaped was not her job. But who they were, their relationship, and especially their contacts with the outside world were.
“What about e-mail, snail mail, and phone calls?” she asked.
“Inmates don’t have e-mail access,” he told her, “and by law we can’t touch anything between them and their lawyers. Theosopholis has family in Atlanta that he exchanges letters with. Some have visited him, but not often. But then, Atlanta’s a long bus ride away. We gave that information to your people for follow-up.”
“And Tice?”
“He gets the usual hate letters and marriage proposals. He throws them away. The media still ask for interviews, but he always turns them down.
Similar Books
