“Who are you?” the young man said as the large double-sided gate started to swing open.
“I’m the asshole who bragged to his bosses this could be done, so I guess they’ll have the last laugh when this thing blows up right in my face.”
The young man turned to face the front just as his heart fell through his belly to his ass. “Oh, my God, what are you going to do?” he asked as his voice broke just as he was pushed forward following the long line of fifteen condemned men.
“Shut up while I figure a new way to get us killed in the next few minutes.”
As they broke into sunlight after the warden’s order to bring them into the yard, the tattooed man quickly scanned the area. The prisoners were of no help as a chain-link fence topped with razor wire held them in check. The three guard towers oversaw the entire area, including the exterior of the prison. One benefit he immediately noticed was that the three armed guards had their attention focused on the activities inside, not out. One break, but he needed more as he again quickly evaluated this new situation that had changed drastically this morning when it was announced that the mysterious and hard-to-corner cartel leader was arriving early. Thus, plan D.
“Shit, man, is that son of a bitch going to film my death?” the young man asked as the men in the balcony applauded the condemned men as they entered.
The gold-toothed inmate looked to the balcony and saw the two men. One was a cameraman and the other a soundman. The camera and telescopic sound boom was extended over the balcony as they filmed the men below. The tattooed man exhaled the breath he had been holding as he took in the scene. He halfheartedly smiled in relief that his message earlier that day had been received.
“Yeah, I guess they are going to film it… news at eleven, huh, kid?”
“Dude, you need to work on your sense of humor, my man.”
“Just wait for the punch line before you judge my comedic talents, son,” the man said as he brought the wheelchair to a stop on the broken asphalt of the exercise area.
As the seventeen prisoners watched on in fear, they saw the horse trailers being backed up to the enclosed yard. Several guards stood by the rear doors of each of the four battered and old trailers.
The blood of each man in hearing distance froze as the roar of a wild cat sounded from the first enclosure.
“Man, this is fucking medieval,” the young man said as his eyes widened at the thought of what they were to face.
The tattooed man said nothing as he realized the truth of what the FBI and DEA had explained in their reports. The man Gutiérrez was as insane as they come.
The man and woman waited just outside the office area of the registration wing of the prison. The white-haired man sat with a large black doctor’s bag between his feet. His round, brown-framed glasses were perched on the end of his nose as he watched the three secretaries at their desks. The woman next to him was attired in green nurse scrubs and sat stoically as she too waited.
The secretary on the phone looked up from her desk and studied the two for a long moment, making both feel uncomfortable, the same feeling they had for the past twenty minutes as they had been forced to wait. The secretary spoke Spanish into the phone and then hung up and stood. She approached the two as her colleagues excitedly stood and hurriedly moved to the window. One of them turned as he moved.
“Hurry, they are bringing them out,” the girl called out to the first.
The first secretary stood before them and looked as if she wanted to hurry. Her Spanish was rapid-fire and the two had a hard time keeping up. They both now knew that the recommendation by the linguistics department had been right on; they should have brushed up a little more with their chosen second language.
“Apologies, but the entire staff is unavailable for at least an hour, Doctor. Warden Ramirez says that you will be called when needed in the yard.” Without waiting and in a hurry to get to the window with her friends, the woman started to turn but stopped and turned back to the white-haired man in the rumpled suit and the small woman sitting beside him. “The warden inquired as to what happened to Dr. Torrez — he was scheduled for rounds this afternoon.”
The white-haired man wanted to face his companion but decided he would act his role out and be brave simply because when this was over he was going to get killed by men other than the maniacs in this prison — men with a lot more talent for killing. He gave the secretary a stern look.
“The good doctor became aware of the scheduled activities this afternoon and decided he was losing his stomach for it, thus I am here in his place as a favor”—he smiled as if he enjoyed the conversation, making even his small female companion suddenly fearful of his demeanor—“as I have no such qualms concerning what’s happening out there.” He nodded toward the window where the other two women stood.
The secretary decided she wanted to hear no more from this strange white-haired doctor and hurriedly joined her excited friends at the window who were examining the inmates as they entered the yard below.
“They’re not going to go outside like we were told they would,” the small woman said out of the corner of her mouth.
“Well, the briefing by our man at the FBI was hurriedly put together, I imagine. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting for us to make an attempt while so shorthanded in the security department.”
“Charlie, if they don’t go outside I have to place them into submission,” the woman said as she felt the fanny pack she wore. She slid it along her belt until it was in the front where she could reach it quickly. “Just how important is this aspect of the plan?” she asked as the three women by the window started making jokes on who would last the longest in the arena.
Professor Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw III watched the three secretaries for the briefest of moments before he frowned and then faced his acting nurse.
“Then what are you waiting for? Drop them. They’re personal assistants to that brutal son of a bitch out there.” He nodded toward the balcony beyond the office wall. “To hell with the gentle approach. Teach these ladies they should have far more compassion for their fellow man.”
First Lieutenant Sarah McIntire of the United States Army was shocked at the coldness of the proposed edict from cryptozoologist Ellenshaw. Most of the Group back at Nellis had seen the change in Charlie ever since the death of Pete Golding at the hands of a murdering ex-CIA operative. The change was enough to have most concerned. That was why she had been surprised that the colonel had allowed the scientist to take part in the operation. But she suspected what Ellenshaw needed was to occupy himself with other duties, and so Jack allowed Charlie this one slot in the rescue attempt to vent some of the pent-up emotion he was feeling. Being a cryptozoologist didn’t prepare you for the shock of sudden death at the hands of your fellow man.
Sarah easily removed the six-barreled electric stun gun from her pouch. With one last look at Ellenshaw, who was waiting with anticipation, she stood and moved toward the window as if she were only curious as to the activity outside.
The woman who had spoken to them a moment before turned with a large smile on her pretty face because she had just chosen the young inmate in the wheelchair as her bet as the first to fall. She saw Sarah approach and her smile slowly faded as she saw the large plastic stun gun in her right hand.