you’re over there.”
“Guess so. Don’t want you to shit on me like you been doing on yourself.”
Junior grinned. “Know me something, old man.”
Earl returned the smile. “What’s that? How to count to ten?”
“You know what I’m talking ’bout. The doc. And that load’a bullshit you laying on her.”
“Don’t know what you talking ’bout, boy.”
“Your daughter, huh? Bet you ain’t got no daughter.”
“Sure I do, son. Sure I do.”
“I’m thinking you got something up and I need to talk to somebody.”
Earl sat up. “Is that right? You gonna talk to somebody? What you gonna say?”
Junior absently scratched his chin. “Now, I been thinkin’ on that. Been thinkin’ what could Earl Fontaine and his fat ass be up to?”
“And what your little pea brain say back to you, huh?”
“It says to me that Earl Fontaine got some scam going. He wants to get somebody down here to see him for some reason ain’t nobody but him knows about.”
“Damn, son, you good. You real good.”
“Yes, I am,” said Junior firmly.
“But who you gonna tell who’ll believe your ass? They killing you pretty damn soon. You nothing to them but some statistic. One more asshole with a number they making leave this here world. So long, Alabama.”
“I say my piece with the doc. Women? I can be pretty damn convincing.”
“I bet you can.” Earl rubbed his chin and looked thoughtful. “Yessir, I bet you damn sure can. Sure, I can see that. Hell, you like that movie star, what’s his name? Brad Pitt? Gals throw their underwear at that boy.”
“So soon as I see her again, she gonna hear from me.”
“But you going back to death row before she comes back.”
“So’s I tell me somebody else. Or I tell her come see me in there.”
“I believe you would. I do indeed.”
Earl looked over and saw a man enter the ward. He gazed back at Junior. “Mebbe we can make some kinda deal, Junior.”
“Mebbe you can go to hell, Earl.”
“Is that your final word, son?”
“No. Go to hell twice.”
“Damn, son, what’s that under your sheet?”
“What?”
“Under your sheet, boy. What’s that thing I see there?”
Junior put his hand under his sheet and his fingers closed around it. He slowly withdrew it, looking stunned.
“He got a knife,” screamed Earl. “He gonna kill somebody. Knife. Knife!”
Others in the ward looked over and started yelling. A nurse overturned her tray. Another patient started yelling. Someone hit an alarm.
Junior said, “Wait. I ain’t know where this—”
He looked up into the immense face of Albert the guard.
“Wait!” screamed Junior as he started to drop the knife.
Albert clamped his hand over Junior’s, keeping the knife right where it was. He seemed to be struggling with Junior for the weapon. Then Albert’s baton came down once, twice, and then a third time on Junior’s head.
Each impact sounded like a melon being hit with a hammer.
The first blow knocked Junior out.
The second blow clearly killed him.
The third blow was just because Albert wanted to.
Chapter
28
THE DAWN WAS BREAKING COOL and clear when they landed at a private airstrip outside of Avignon in France. Clearing customs was not a problem; they simply bypassed it. When you arrived on clandestine wings on soil governed by an ally, conveniences like that tended to occur.
Robie and Reel carried duffels off the jet and dumped them in a truck waiting for them on the tarmac. Reel took the wheel while Robie rode shotgun.
After their meeting with Evan Tucker they had geared up and game-planned, as much as was possible in the few hours they had to do so. They had spent the flight time going over various scenarios.