Lock nodded, remembering Phileas, whose predatory business instincts and nose for a deal would, under different circumstances, have made him a fortune on Wall Street.
‘But then there’s usually another side.’
‘You got a five-dollar word for them as well?’
‘More of a ten-dollar phrase. I’d call these guys the true believers.’
‘So where does that leave Reaper?’
‘I’d say he’s a believer, and part of that is a whole code-of-honor thing.’
Lock did a bad job of hiding his cynicism, the smirk crawling across his face.
Carrie held up her hand. ‘Hear me out.’
‘I’m a-hearing,’ said Lock in his worst pastiche of a Southern accent.
‘You said that guys like Reaper were into all those Louis L’Amour westerns.’
‘Ate ’em up.’
‘That’s where the Aryan Brotherhood take one of their other nicknames from, right? The Brand. They got that from a Louis L’Amour story.’
‘Far as I know.’
‘Well, the Brand, the original Brand, in those stories they lived by a code of honor which included no harming of women or children.’
Lock swiveled round so that he was facing Carrie. ‘Can I talk to reporter Carrie rather than love-of-my-life Carrie?’
Carrie eye-lifted her consent.
‘I know what you’re saying, but where does that leave Ken Prager and his family? The Aryan Brotherhood didn’t seem to have a code when it came to them.’
‘That’s what I’m saying. The Aryan Brotherhood breached the code.’
On cue, the door at the back opened and Reaper shuffled in, his appearance transformed by the suit and tie. He nodded a series of polite hellos, first to the judge, then to Jalicia and the prosecution, and finally to his former comrades, who glared at him from the dock.
‘So what is he then, Ryan?’ Carrie asked.
Lock studied Reaper as he settled himself into the dock, his eyes startlingly dark and unblinking, his head held high. ‘He’s a chess player,’ he said. ‘And as far as he’s concerned, you, me, Jalicia, Coburn, his former buddies sitting in that dock, we’re all just pieces on his board.’
33
By the time Reaper was finally sworn in, it was gone three in the afternoon. Jalicia’s heels left a puncture trail in the thick brown carpet as she walked towards him. Compared to the courtroom in San Francisco, the one in Medford, with its brown-on-brown colour scheme, felt claustrophobic and oppressive.
‘For the record,’ she began, ‘could you state your full name and place of residence?’
Reaper showed his teeth, like a talent contestant who’d spent too much time practicing in front of the mirror for his TV debut. ‘Frank Hays. But most folks call me Reaper. I live a little outside Crescent City, California.’ He turned to the jury and gave them the same smile. ‘More specifically, the Secure Housing Unit at Pelican Bay State Prison.’
‘Thank you, Mr Hays. Can you tell me, do you know any of the defendants? And, if so, how do you know them?’
Reaper glanced at the defendants, his former comrades, his expression not changing, although there seemed to be an extra twinkle in his eyes. ‘I know all of them from doing time alongside them in prison.’
‘Which prisons, Mr Hays?’
‘San Quentin back in the day, Corcoran, Chino, bunch of other places,’ Reaper replied, reeling off some of the grimmest prisons in California and beyond. He turned to the jury again. ‘If it’s got bars and a gun tower, I’ve probably seen it.’
Jalicia walked back to the prosecution table and shuffled through some papers, ready to signal a switch of gear — time to get down to business.
‘Many inmates who’ve been accused of being a member of the Aryan Brotherhood have claimed that there is no such organisation. In your experience, is that the case?’
‘Lady, it’s like that Brad Pitt movie: the first rule of the AB is you don’t talk about the AB. Least not with outsiders.’
‘So it does exist?’
Reaper looked over to where the six defendants were watching him intently. ‘Oh yeah, it exists.’
‘And you were a commissioner in the AB?’
Reaper’s head swiveled to the jury again. ‘You just promoted me. There’s only three commissioners, all sitting over there. I was what they call a shot caller.’
‘Thank you, Mr Hays, I stand corrected. But while incarcerated in Pelican Bay Supermax, you were the Aryan Brotherhood shot caller for that institution.’
‘Yeah, I called the shots.’
‘And what does that mean in reality?’
‘It’s like being one of the head honchos at one of those Fortune 500 companies. Any major decisions that had to be made went through me.’
Jalicia angled her body towards the jury. Predominantly white, with a sprinkling of blacks and Hispanics, they still looked drained by what had happened in San Francisco but now they were all leaning forward slightly, taking in everything Reaper was saying.
She turned back to him. ‘What kind of decisions? Could you give me a for instance?’
Reaper studied the ceiling as if he was dredging up an example. ‘Like, say, if someone wanted to attack one of the toads. By which I mean the blacks.’
There was an audible shuffle of discomfort in the courtroom. Reaper looked at Lock.
‘That would have to be sanctioned by you first?’ Jalicia asked.
Reaper smiled, still looking in Lock’s direction. ‘Exactly.’
‘And what about decisions made elsewhere in the organisation? Would you be apprised of those?’
‘The big ones, sure.’
‘Such as the decision to have someone killed?’
Reaper shrugged, super-nonchalant, like he and Jalicia were discussing what to pick up from the store for dinner. ‘I’d get to hear about it.’
Jalicia could feel the defense attorneys tense in anticipation of the next question. She took the decision to back off a little, go round the block one more time, make sure the jury were in no doubt about the nature of the Aryan Brotherhood.
‘What was the term used by this organisation for giving the go-ahead to have someone murdered?’
‘Someone was going to get killed, they had to be green-lit.’
‘Green-lit? Like the Hollywood term for deciding to put a movie into production.’
‘Except we usually tried not to make a big production out of it.’ Reaper smirked.
‘And these killings would take place inside prisons?’
‘Sure. And on the outside too.’
Jalicia allowed her face to register a degree of surprise, even though she knew where this was leading. ‘But how would that even be possible if the members of this gang, yourself included, were all incarcerated?’
‘You don’t have to actually pull the trigger yourself, you know. Ain’t that what this whole deal’s about?’
Jalicia took a breath, and stepped towards him. ‘If you could just answer the question.’
‘Let me see how to explain this to you.’ Reaper put the palms of his hands together, the tips of his fingers resting against his lips. ‘OK, so say we decide someone who’s on the outside needs some killing. We look at who is about to be paroled, or who we already have on the outside. We get a message to them and that’s how it’s done.’
‘And this would be a member of the organisation or an associate?’
‘Usually an associate.’
‘And why would someone who had recently been released from prison commit murder in the first degree, risking further incarceration, possibly a capital or life sentence, merely on your say-so, or the say-so of the Aryan Brotherhood?’
Reaper clasped his hands together. ‘Real simple. The one thing we can be sure of is that this person is headed back into prison at some point. If they haven’t carried out their mission, then next time they step on the yard we kill ’em.’
Jalicia wanted to hammer this one home so that even the slowest member of the jury would be able to grasp it. ‘So, if they don’t commit the murder, as soon as they step back inside a jail or penitentiary, you’ll have them killed.’