Back in the cell that evening, MacNally asked Anglin what he and Clarence discussed when they met in the yard.
Anglin, sitting on his bunk, faced MacNally and said, in a low voice, “Mac. My brother and me, we been in a lot of prisons. But we don’t stay long.”
“That’s good,” MacNally said, unsure where Anglin was headed. “Right?”
“No. No, I mean, we leave. We escape.” He leaned toward the bars and let his eyes dart back and forth, scanning the cell block. “We got a way out of here. We could use another guy.”
“I’ve been thinking about the same thing. Trying to figure a way to get out, find my son.” MacNally scooted closer. “You said you need some help.” He tapped his chest, suggesting himself as an option.
“It ain’t something to take lightly. You get caught, they add time. We’re here, in this shithole, because we’re good at escaping. Got out of every damn place they put us. If we could just stop gettin’ caught robbin’ stupid banks, we’d be two fuckin’ happy guys. But no. They always nab our asses and throw us back in the joint.”
“How-” MacNally lowered his voice. “How do you think you’re gonna get out of here?”
“Clarence works in the bakery, and I just got a job in the kitchen. Clarence reckons to hide away in a box, one of them big ones they use to bring bread into the kitchen.”
“A breadbox? You’re shitting me. That won’t work.”
“Oh, yeah?” Anglin’s face hardened. “How many prisons you break out of, Mac?”
MacNally leaned back.
“Yeah,” Anglin said, “didn’t think so. From the day I got here, I been thinking about leaving. And I’m not just talkin’ ’bout thinking of it, I mean really figuring it out. Watching, talkin’ with guys, workin’ through how things work. That’s how I do it. I look for the weak points, the things the hacks don’t think about. Human nature, people gettin’ lazy and not doing their jobs. See?”
MacNally nodded. “I’ve been watching for stuff like that, too. Go on.”
“The hacks count us four times a day, right? The one at four o’clock’s a stand-up count, and that’s a tough one to beat. So I reckon we don’t try. Clarence’ll be there for that one. But the next one, at ten, is a much easier one to beat. Prop up some shit in your bed, make it look like there’s a body there, and you’re good to go. That gives Clarence six hours to get himself into the back of that there delivery truck and hide. When they drive off, ’bout seven, he’ll have a three-hour head start before they even know to start lookin’ for him. Follow?”
“That’s not bad,” MacNally said. “I was wondering how to beat the count. That’s where I kept getting hung up.”
“Like I said before, you gotta look for the weak points. Like that bread truck. A buddy of mine knows a guy who did time here once. He built a fake wall inside the back, just for Clarence. If we can get Clarence into the truck, he can get behind that wall and drive clear outta here. We don’t have to cut through no bars, beat on a guard, none of the shit that’d git us a year in the Hole.”
MacNally considered the plan. “The beauty’s in its simplicity.”
“You want in, or not?”
“What do I have to do?”
“I’ve gotta get Clarence into that metal box. Then I gotta push him into the kitchen elevator. There’s a guard nearby, so we need to take his mind off things. Create a diversion.”
MacNally thought about it a moment. If the Custodial Associate Warden sensed that he was involved, he’d be heavily disciplined. How bad, he had no idea. Time in the Hole, for sure. Of course, more than likely they wouldn’t be able to prove he was mixed up in the escape attempt, and if he handled the diversion properly, he could make it look like it wasn’t of his doing.
“What’s in it for me?” If MacNally hadn’t asked the question, Anglin would’ve been suspicious. Cons formed alliances, but there was a world of difference between pacts for convenience sake-and loyalty. MacNally had been told that even brothers snitched on one another in prison.
Anglin said, “I help you plan something. You’re smart about it, you get to be with your son.”
MacNally found himself nodding before he could speak or even think it through.
“Tomorrow. During dinner. Gets dark early, good time for Clarence to blow this joint.”
“How do you know,” MacNally said, “that they won’t lock the place down and search the truck?”
“Won’t matter. They did a good job with that fake wall. They won’t find him.”
“You sure?”
Anglin ground his jaw. “Let me worry ’bout that shit.”
MacNally went over more details with Anglin, and then laid back on his bunk to figure out his diversion. He knew it had to be good, and it had to be clever. He fell asleep working those thoughts through his mind.
IN KEEPING WITH CLARENCE’S ESCAPE, the diversion MacNally sketched out would be as simple as possible to ensure a successful implementation and to reduce the risk of something going awry.
They were on the yard, amidst inmates who were lifting weights, smoking, and telling stories. Anglin closed his eyes and craned his neck skyward, the sun fully on his face. “What’s your plan?”
MacNally spoke in hushed tones, his face canted toward the ground to prevent an officer or a snitch from reading his lips. “Get into an argument with someone. Loud, aggressive. I can sell it pretty good, I think.”
“Keep going.”
“If I can make it seem as if it was started by the other guy, and it’s convincing, even if they suspect I was involved, they’d never be able to prove it. By keeping it ‘in-house,’ between me and you, there’s no way for the hacks to prove it was a setup.”
“They don’t need no proof to throw you in the Hole. Suspicion’s enough for ’em.”
“If they had proof, it’d be much worse.”
Anglin bobbed his head, his eyes darting from side to side as he processed what MacNally had told him. Finally, he nodded his approval.
The following day, MacNally shuffled into the dining hall along with his cellhouse’s complement of inmates. John and Clarence Anglin were already in the kitchen on duty, as they were supposed to be. MacNally figured the best place for him to be was nearby, because when the shouting started, inmates would either stay put or leave their seats, anxious to put distance between themselves and the altercation. Being a witness to even the most minor incident can result in a quick death at the hands of the head inmate’s enforcers.
Once the commotion had started, Anglin and another inmate could load the box containing Clarence into the truck. It would be heavy, but if the guard watching them was properly distracted, they could get it into the back without the officer realizing that it weighed substantially more than it should.
MacNally took care to choose an unwitting partner. He asked Clarence who would make a good victim-someone who was not connected to a gang that would take retribution against MacNally for what he was about to do. Clarence selected a fish, a new inmate who hadn’t had the opportunity to make friends or forge alliances: Neil Wallace, a slightly built white-collar criminal who did not appear to have the constitution or stature to defend himself.