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Authors: Gayle Lynds
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He’s never made any ‘general’ phone calls or gotten any ‘general’ mail to speak of. And the only person he ever put on his visitor list was his attorney. But the case is basically inactive, so the lawyer hasn’t been to see him in months.”
“Did anyone request a visit or a phone call with Tice recently?”
As the lieutenant led her past flowers planted in rigid rows, he shook his head. “Tice’s isolation isn’t unusual. Some cons’ only outside contacts are junk mail and catalogs. Sometimes it’s because everyone’s turned against them. Other times it’s because they just want to be left alone.”
At the mess hall, Lieutenant Oxley reached to open the door for her.She noted a long scar on his wrist—old and faded but marked by ugly welts.
“That must’ve hurt.” She nodded at it.
He glanced at it, surprised, as if he had forgotten about it. “That’s from a pipe cut. They can be nasty.” He gave a wry smile. “Take my advice. Never be a plumber.”
The mess hall was hard-edged, with linoleum flooring, tall colorless walls, and security windows. There was a lingering stink of grease that even the heavy odor of industrial disinfectant did not hide.
FBI Special Agent Gary Mayhew met her at the door. He had a thin look to his eyes, and square-tipped fingers that kept brushing his sports jacket as if looking for a pack of cigarettes. He glanced at the six security officers sprawled in chairs on the far side of the big room then told her in a low voice, “I’ll cut to the chase. The only thing we’re sure about is the cameras in the section where the two escapees were housed went haywire for eleven minutes at 3:31 this morning—that’s when we figure they broke out. The cameras started working again soon enough afterward that the guards thought it was just a malfunction, but our IT people say it was programmed into the system from the building’s main computer. Whoever did it used the control code of a female employee who left for Florida on vacation a couple of days ago.”
“So Theosopholis, Tice, or someone else stole or bought it before she left, or maybe she did the programming herself, then took off.”
Mayhew nodded grimly. “A lot of possibilities. We’ve informed your people how to find her.” He led her to a table where floor plans were laid out. “This is where Theosopholis and Tice were housed. All the gates are electronic. To go anywhere—from section to section, floor to floor—you have to get past gates. The codes are changed in random patterns chosen by the computer, and some gates have more than one code. During the eleven minutes without video, Theosopholis and Tice would’ve had to get past a minimum of four guards and five gates, depending on which route they took.” He traced two—one to the building’s front entrance, the other to the rear.
“Were any of the security officers out of sight of the others?” she asked.
“In that eleven-minute period without cameras—all were. This would be a hell of a lot easier to figure out if Tice and Theosopholis had just used dynamite.”
“Whoever masterminded it knew what he was doing.”
“Sure looks like it.” He handed her a copy of patrol schedules and a list of people who had entered and left throughout the night.
As she put them into her purse, she marched past rows of barren dining tables to the guards, who sat in identical plastic chairs. Two had crossed their arms, heads nodding. At the sound of her steps, they looked up. All watched her cautiously.
“Thanks for staying,” she told them. As Lieutenant Oxley leaned against a wall, and Special Agent Mayhew sat on the end of a table, she pulled up a chair and smiled. “You’re the ones who work there, so you may know more about Tice and Theosopholis than they know about themselves. My job is to find them, not to blame anyone for anything. Educate me. What are they like? Are they close?”
They glanced at one another. From the wall, the FBI man
“Did anyone request a visit or a phone call with Tice recently?”
As the lieutenant led her past flowers planted in rigid rows, he shook his head. “Tice’s isolation isn’t unusual. Some cons’ only outside contacts are junk mail and catalogs. Sometimes it’s because everyone’s turned against them. Other times it’s because they just want to be left alone.”
At the mess hall, Lieutenant Oxley reached to open the door for her.She noted a long scar on his wrist—old and faded but marked by ugly welts.
“That must’ve hurt.” She nodded at it.
He glanced at it, surprised, as if he had forgotten about it. “That’s from a pipe cut. They can be nasty.” He gave a wry smile. “Take my advice. Never be a plumber.”
The mess hall was hard-edged, with linoleum flooring, tall colorless walls, and security windows. There was a lingering stink of grease that even the heavy odor of industrial disinfectant did not hide.
FBI Special Agent Gary Mayhew met her at the door. He had a thin look to his eyes, and square-tipped fingers that kept brushing his sports jacket as if looking for a pack of cigarettes. He glanced at the six security officers sprawled in chairs on the far side of the big room then told her in a low voice, “I’ll cut to the chase. The only thing we’re sure about is the cameras in the section where the two escapees were housed went haywire for eleven minutes at 3:31 this morning—that’s when we figure they broke out. The cameras started working again soon enough afterward that the guards thought it was just a malfunction, but our IT people say it was programmed into the system from the building’s main computer. Whoever did it used the control code of a female employee who left for Florida on vacation a couple of days ago.”
“So Theosopholis, Tice, or someone else stole or bought it before she left, or maybe she did the programming herself, then took off.”
Mayhew nodded grimly. “A lot of possibilities. We’ve informed your people how to find her.” He led her to a table where floor plans were laid out. “This is where Theosopholis and Tice were housed. All the gates are electronic. To go anywhere—from section to section, floor to floor—you have to get past gates. The codes are changed in random patterns chosen by the computer, and some gates have more than one code. During the eleven minutes without video, Theosopholis and Tice would’ve had to get past a minimum of four guards and five gates, depending on which route they took.” He traced two—one to the building’s front entrance, the other to the rear.
“Were any of the security officers out of sight of the others?” she asked.
“In that eleven-minute period without cameras—all were. This would be a hell of a lot easier to figure out if Tice and Theosopholis had just used dynamite.”
“Whoever masterminded it knew what he was doing.”
“Sure looks like it.” He handed her a copy of patrol schedules and a list of people who had entered and left throughout the night.
As she put them into her purse, she marched past rows of barren dining tables to the guards, who sat in identical plastic chairs. Two had crossed their arms, heads nodding. At the sound of her steps, they looked up. All watched her cautiously.
“Thanks for staying,” she told them. As Lieutenant Oxley leaned against a wall, and Special Agent Mayhew sat on the end of a table, she pulled up a chair and smiled. “You’re the ones who work there, so you may know more about Tice and Theosopholis than they know about themselves. My job is to find them, not to blame anyone for anything. Educate me. What are they like? Are they close?”
They glanced at one another. From the wall, the FBI man
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