Backfire

Cindy Cahill yawned. Her wrist chains rattled as she raised her hand to pat her mouth. She froze. Too bad the rattling chains always ruined a good performance.

Cindy said, “Agent Savich, we don’t have any idea what you’re both talking about. We’re United States citizens, and we haven’t been convicted of anything. You can’t think we believe the CIA is going to haul us off to Guantánamo Bay?”

“And we didn’t steal anything,” Clive said, his voice parroting Cindy’s tone, as convincing as his lawyer’s. “Cindy and I have maintained our innocence throughout this debacle. We know nothing of this Xu or O’Rourke’s murder or the two attempts on Judge Hunt’s life. We don’t know anything at all. We’re in jail. Get over it.”

“I’m getting bored, Clive, honey,” Cindy said.

“Me, too, sweetie,” Clive said, “but, hey, at least we get to see each other.”

Eve knew they weren’t getting anywhere fast. It was time to get down and dirty. She said, “Surely you two are smart enough to realize you could be convicted on half the evidence the prosecutors have. You are both going down, and that means all the way down to a lethal injection.”

Clive smiled at her. “I thought you said the CIA was going to haul us away, never to be seen again?”

Eve turned to Cindy. “Tell me, Cindy, do you have any idea what you’re going to look like in five years? Ten years? In fifteen years, right before you get the needle in your arm?

“Let me tell you what I’ve seen. You’ll probably exercise for another year to keep your body in shape, but you’ll be fighting a losing battle. They feed you lots of carbs and fat, and you’ll gain weight because there’s not much else to do in prison but eat. After a while, you’ll stop exercising, I mean, why keep it up? Who is there to admire you? A bunch of women who could view you as too pretty and hate your guts and hurt you?

“Your skin turns pasty in jail because there isn’t much sun available to you, and no good beauty creams. In five years, you’ll be a fat slob and anyone you know now who sees you will hardly recognize you. Clive will, and because he might still care about you, in theory, he’ll try not to gag.

“When they finally put that needle in your arm, you’ll be a ruin, and they’ll be putting you out of your misery. You’ll end up only a name and a carcass to be disposed of.”

Eve kept quiet and waited. They were crude threats, but they were all she had left. She listened to Cindy Cahill’s pumped-up breathing, watched the appalling comprehension in her eyes before she managed to smooth it away. But Cindy couldn’t veil the rage that followed. It beamed out of her eyes like a flashing beacon. She said, “I hope Xu cuts your face up before he kills you, bitch.”

“That’s not going to happen, so listen up. Tell us about Xu and what he has, and you won’t have to worry about him, or about dying in here.”

There was a heavy lump of silence, while the two of them looked at each other. Clive gave Cindy a small shake of his head.

Eve felt Dillon’s hand pat her knee. He said, “You know what I admire about you, Clive? You’re a real gamer. You know how to spot the perfect mark; you know how to manipulate your mark into doing exactly what you want. You picked out Cindy, didn’t you, because you knew you could mold her to be exactly what you needed?”

Clive said, “Then I’m smart enough to know when I’m being gamed, right, Agent?”

“Sure you are. There’ll be lots of games in prison, Clive, but you won’t win many of them; you won’t even get to play because you’ll be the game. The inmates will recognize you fast enough as a GQ sort of guy who’s used to the good life and sees them as a bunch of low-life yahoos. Believe me, they’ll detest you on sight. They’ll make you very sorry you look good, Clive.

“The chances are they’ll make you their bonus buddy, at least for a while, as long as you’re looking good. After that, it depends on how bored and sadistic they are.”

Eve heard the tension in Clive’s voice. “Come on, that sort of thing doesn’t happen anymore. I’ve been here eight months. No problems like that. Sure, there are disagreements among the inmates, but nothing violent, nothing sexual.”

Savich shook his head at Clive. “This is local lockup, Clive, not a big bad federal prison where you’re headed. Did Milo Siles try to convince you that if you’re found guilty, you’d be headed to one of the federal country clubs for B felons? If he did, he lied.