Nat eyeballed the prison layout as she drove past at a reasonable speed, not wanting to draw undue attention. The building was located far from the road and she couldn't sneak up to it on foot. The prison's design ensured that anyone who tried to break out of prison would be exposed; of course, any idiot who tried to break into the prison would be exposed as well. She figured that the tunnel had to run from the prison to the road, or at least near enough to it. Digging the tunnel would have been doable in a year's time, or less. She had to assume Parrat would be here tonight to make the pickup, wherever the tunnel ended. Graf and Machik would be on duty, too, and they'd undoubtedly make up some story in the morning about how Williams had escaped. And overnight, they'd become rich men.
She drove by the entrance to the prison, looking for any sign of a tunnel's exit. She followed the curve of the road around a grove of evergreen trees, then traveled uphill, using the blue water tower as her guide. The grade steepened, and she drove around the back of the water tower, then slowed when she got to the back of the prison. She looked through the trees.
She didn't see the tunnel's exit, but in the next minute, she saw another way to execute Plan B.
Chapter 41
Nat had to work quickly. She drove farther up the road until she found a break in the evergreens, then pulled the car onto high ground, using the trees on the right as cover from the guardhouse. She opened the glove compartment and ransacked it. Old Trident gum pieces, loose CDs, two condoms, a tube of Bath amp; Body hand cream, and a pack of matches fell onto the passenger seat.
Bingo. But she needed a few more items. She got out of the car and started looking. It was dark but she pulled out the penlight and cast it around the side of the road. Gravel, melting snow, and mud appeared in the penlight s circle of moonshade, but no luck. She kept looking, then saw a large grayish rock. She kicked it hard with her foot, once, then again. She succeeded only in shifting it slightly, which meant it would do fine. She got down on all fours and clawed at the snow around the rock until she finally unseated it, then lifted it up with a tiny grunt and hurried back to the car as fast as she could.
She retrieved her purse, with the construction file still in it, and slung it over her shoulder, then picked up the rock, edged out of the driver's seat with it, and set it on the floor of the car. She gathered all the stray branches; old leaves, and sticks she could find, stuffed them in the passenger seat, then took the manila folder from the construction file and set it in the middle of the sticks. She struck a match and lit the folder, which caught fire quickly. Then the kindling began to flame, too.
Last, she assessed the condition of the field. Much of the snow had melted, but the ground was still cold enough to stay firm. Dark gray smoke filled the car. Fire warmed her face. It was time. She steeled her nerves and got her target in sight. Near the prison, off by itself, sat the row of white propane tanks, next to one of the construction trailers. She felt her heart thudding in her chest. The propane tanks were too far from the road to endanger the houses on the street and too far from the prison building to endanger it, either. She was taking a page from Graf's book. If he could create chaos, so could she.
She double-checked that the emergency brake was engaged, then rolled the heavy rock onto the gas pedal. The engine gunned in angry response and the tires spun in protest, spraying mud, wet snow, and gravel. She counted to three and released the emergency brake, and the Neon took off like a shot, heading downhill for the propane tanks. The car zoomed into the field at speed, with orange flames leaping from its windows. The guard ran out of the guardhouse, but he was too late. In the next minute, the Neon smashed into the propane tanks, knocking over the tall white tanks like so many bowling pins.
KABOOM! KABOOM! The tanks exploded with a deafening blast, sending a geyser of orange flame shooting into the night. Sparks flew skyward like fireworks. Bits of metal spiraled into the air. Smoke billowed from the flames. KABOOM!
Nat hid behind the trees. Emergency sirens erupted from the prison. Floodlights sprang to life and blasted cones of light on the perimeter fences. The guard came running to the fire. Two marshals leapt from the dark sedan in the parking lot. C.O.s poured from the prison. The scene looked every bit the bedlam of the prison riot. But Nat couldn't make her next move yet.
Suddenly, she heard shouts behind her and turned. Front doors were opening in the houses on the other side of the street. Residents were stepping outside to see what was going on. A middle-aged couple hurried down their front walk and across the street.
"Look!" Nat said, pointing. She kept her face to the fire. "The propane tanks exploded at the prison!"
"My goodness gracious!" The woman wrapped a blue quilted coat closer around her and looked down the hill, orange flames dancing in her hooded eyes. Her graying husband came up behind her in a long parka, and she turned to him. "George, shouldn't we get our propane tanks checked?"
"Nah, they don't spontaneously combust, honey."
"Then what causes that?"
"God only knows," Nat answered, fake-watching as other neighbors walked toward her and the older couple, beginning to collect in the street. When would the police come? What was taking so long? She couldn't risk being spotted. Her hair was so bright it glowed in the dark. She couldn't wait another minute. She started to walk toward the field and ignored the new shouts behind her.
"Hey, wait!" a man's voice yelled. "That blonde! I just saw her near a car when I took out the trash."
No! Nat heard a scuffing noise behind her, and turned just as an angry middle-aged man grabbed her jacket.
"Get back here. What were you doing anyway?"
"Lemme go!" Nat wrenched herself free and took off down the hill. She couldn't let anybody stop her now. Not after she'd come this far.
"Stop!" the man shouted, chasing her downhill toward the prison. In the next minute she heard the blare of distant sirens. She ran as fast as she could across the field, her feet churning in mud and snow, barely ahead of the man.
"Stop right there! I'm calling the police!"
Nat screamed, as suddenly her collar got yanked back, throttling her. The man grabbed her, jerked her backward off her feet, and threw her to the wet snow. Her head hit the cold ground and she lay almost choking as the man stood over her. She kicked him in the leg as hard as she could.
"Ow!" the man doubled over and crumpled to the snow, and Nat scrambled to her feet and started running. The sirens grew louder, closer. Police. Fire. Help was on the way. The blaze raged at the propane tanks, burning into the sky around the blackening shell of the Neon. She raced past the heat and toward the prison while all hell broke loose.
More C.O.s streamed outside the prison. The SWAT team ran at the fire with portable extinguishers. The Neon blazed away. The air smelled like burning rubber. Everybody shouted warnings and directions and ran this way and that. In the emergency, nobody noticed the little blonde streaking for the prison entrance.
Nat kept running. In the next minute, she saw a trio of state police cars zooming down the road from the right. They tore around the curve and drove up the prison driveway. Two yellow fire trucks powered right behind them, their red lights flashing and sirens screaming. She bolted to the prison entrance. Floodlights blasted the driveway around the entrance, and she recognized the familiar figure of a woman CO. Tanisa. Nat ran to intercept her.
"Tanisa, it's me, Angus's friend!" she shouted over the din, grabbing Tanisa's arms. "Williams is going to escape tonight! Graf's behind it and Machik, too!"