Going to Jail.

Of course, it's easier to say you're going to go rattle chains then actually doing it. And if you rattle the wrong chain you may get a safe landing on your head. I look at the kid and she seems a little more determined.

"First thing's first." I tell her. "You got some good clothes?"

"Yeah."

"Get 'em—what about money?"

"About five hundred." I shake my head.

"I'll pull out some more—we may need it." Kim looks over at me, and frowns.

"So where are we going?"

"To the jail where your friend is." She blinks and pales.

"Are you crazy? Won't they know?"

"Yeah, well you're not coming in and I'm not visiting him…I have a friend, he's been there a while…and I drop by now and than—nothing out of the ordinary."

"Would he know about Ron?"

"If it happens in that prison, he knows about it." I tell the kid. She looks dubious. I can figure why, but she needs to understand. "Kid, right now we have one end of this—yours. We need to know Ron's end."

"Will you get him out?" She asks, in a whisper.

"Maybe, but not right now." I tell the truth, "The only way he's getting out of Supermax is if someone lets him out—don't even think about a jailbreak."

"But…"

"No buts, Kid—this ain't some little county jail." I say. "we need to be nice…'an you stay in town, and out of sight. There's a hotel I know on the outskirts by supermax—it's quiet."

"I-"

"Am gonna stay in that hotel, and not poke your nose out. OK?" Kim looks rebellious and I try and remember what it was like to be a teenager. "Trust me, Kim—the guy I know will be able to tell us some stuff."

"What if he's in on it?"

"In on it? In on it?" I can't help myself, I laugh. "Kid, if he's in on it we might as well give up—that means everyone on the planet is, except for you and me, and I wouldn't be too certain about you."

So we drive on it, and I make the reservations, letting the clerk see the female in the car, almost like it was an accident. That way, he figures I'm an old guy screwing around with some teenage lover…so if he sees Kim, he files it and ignores it. If I tried to pretend I was alone and he saw her, thing's might get a little dicey.

I settle Kim in, and we have a last minute talk. I let her know that If I'm not back by tonight, things have gone south—get out. If I call her, and don't ask about the cat, things are bad and she needs to get out—and if she does, go straight for the border and get to Latin America or Europe and never look back.

Then its my turn. I take my car and head to the penitentiary—or the place where they put the living dead, which is what most lifers turn into. The guards know me—because like I told her, I've been here before.

I didn't tell her the reason why I want to talk to Tomas…because we get to walk outside, and not in the meeting room. Being in prison for 45 years gives you a little pull on the inside…and the guards figure that since you're never going to see the outside, they don't' lose anything by letting you take a walk. There's also the little matter that Tom knows more about the prison then the guards or the warden and can calm down—or set off, a riot depending on what he says. Prisoner or no, they don't want to piss him off.

When I get to the courtyard, He's sitting down, smoking a cigarette. He's black like me, but his hair went snow white a long time ago, and he walks with a cane, courtesy of the Ku Klux Klan…and saving a certain stupid black kid who didn't realize that some parts of town you didn't walk in after dark. That's also how he got to be here.

"Hey Big Brother." I say to him.

"Looking good, little brother… well, looking fatter than I remember, but still good." We clasp hands for a minute, talk about the old days, and some of the new days…but I don't have as much time as I want.

"Tom…" I say, "you heard of a kid, Ron Stoppable?"

"He's my cellmate." He says. I blink at the coincidense. Why would Tom have a cellmate?

"Kinda odd…him being white." I say. Sticking with your own in prison is your best chance to have a long life, and while Tom's tolerant—lots of the other blacks aren't.

"He saved a brother…. And we could see someone wanted him dead… I could see it."

"Oh?" I ask.

"When they processed him, they put him in cellblock 4." I guess my confusion shows. Tom continues, "They put a Jewboy in the cellblock that has all the Aryan nation bigwigs in it. Then they told 'em he was a Jewboy." He shook his head, "Pretty hard being alone like that—you're white so the browns and blacks hate you, the Asian's want you dead…and well, you know what the Aryan's think about Jews." I nod. He continues, "But they decided to have a little rape party with a brother who was in here for robbery, and the kid took 'em on—won, too, although it didn't help him when the guards arrived….but I let the warden know that things might not…go so well if he had any unfortunate accidents."

"So they put him with you."

"Figure an old geezer like me could keep him from getting killed." He shrugs, "So far, it's worked. Kid's been railroaded, Jack— just as bad as we were in the old days…maybe worse, because at least they never pretended otherwise with us." Tom starts coughing, and I wait until he's better.

"I know—I'm trying to help him."

"You won't get any help from him.. someone put a powerful scare into him about his folks." He pauses, "Ever so often they take him out for interrogation—not the guards, but some bigwigs who show up…he always comes back in bad shape…real bad shape." He takes a puff on his cigarette. "He won't last much longer…."

"I can't get him out of here…" I say, indicating the cleared kill zone, the guards, the towers.

"That's surely true…" He says, "But like I said, they take him out of the prison to do their little discussions—not all the guards here are crooked." I think about it, then nod.

"I understand." Tom keeps talking,

"You know, Jack… lot of interesting people been turning up dead…you heard about Go-Team?"

"Well, it turns out they were having some sort of meeting at their tower…and BOOM! All gone. Except for the babe with the hands…and she's just vanished." He takes one last drag, "and all of Ron's old enemies…gone…kinda strange that, wouldn't you think? All those times they almost took over the world and then they up and quit when the girl that stopped them is out of circulation?" I nod at that. The guards are still out of earshot, but they're looking at their watches, so the meetings almost over. As I'm turning, Tom takes advantage of the one second no guard can see and hands me his cigarette case. "I paid the guard" He said, "They'll let you take it out, since they only really care about stuff coming in."

"Tom, this is yours…"

"Not for long." He says, "Doc said I have cancer… no special treatments in Jail…so I got a month, maybe two…maybe less if I decide to check out early. " He grins at me, and I try to meet my big brothers grin. Still the same damned devil may care grin… still my big brother. "This was yours—remember the time that we got caught smoking behind the church." I nod. My backside stings in its own memory of that day. He pauses, "I keep my most precious items in it—my good cigarettes, wrapped up in my good," He stresses the word, "Paper…don't just smoke 'em." I nod. He pauses, "Get the kid out, Jack…he won't last after I'm gone."

"And you?" I ask, "What should I do?"

"Don't come back." He says, "I don't want to see your sorry fat ass when I have too many tubes down my throat to joke." He grins, "When I'm gone…is the old church there still?" I nod… I can't say anything, thinking about the way my brother protected me. He gets an even bigger grin, "Go get a cigar—a good cigar, and smoke it in front of the church…especially if it has one of those damn fool no smoking signs." I grin, half heartedly.

"Tom…I'm sorry."

"For what?" He said, "Little brother, I was the bruiser…but I've kept track of you as much as I could. You've done good work…" He laughs, "and you're gonna do more before you go." He looks around at the prison, and smiles, "Besides, this ain't no place for some senile old fool who needs a wheelchair, and if I get too decrepit, they might just kick me out…hell, after 45 years I don't even know if I could figure a phone out! Like it or not…this is home and this is the way it should be." He grips my shoulder.

"See you big brother." I say, and he nods.

"And you too." He grins, "See?" he says, "You said there's no such thing as fate—I just figured somebody might turn up to help the kid, and it turns out to be you." I nod, turn and walk away. When I get to the exit, I turn around and see him strolling inside the building…and I fix that in my mind. The last time I'll see my big brother.

When Jack gets back, he's awfully quiet for a few minutes, and I can't get anything out of them. Then he opens up an old cigarette case that looks like it was made from a tin can and takes ten hand rolled cigarettes out of it…and unrolls them.

"Son of a bitch." He whispers, and than laughs, "Son of a bitch!"

"What is it?" I ask.

"This is a record of when your buddy was being taken out of the jail…and they do it on a schedule!"

"He knew?" I asked.

"Trust me, Tom always knew… when it counted." Jack's looking a little misty eyed, and I'm curious…but he doesn't offer and I don't ask.

"So what does it mean?" I say.

"It means that in 12 hours, your friend is going to be out of the jail, in a car with only two guards…" He says to me. Then he gets a big grin.

"How are you on jailbreaks?"

"I thought you sai-" He cuts me off.

"I said making a jail break out of supermax was crazy… and Kid, new information—your friend isn't safe in jail. Not at all. I about a month, maybe two…he's gonna be dead." I gasp and feel myself going cold.

"Why?" I ask.

"Maybe they figured he knew where you were…" He says, and I shake my head.

"Not about that…why are they going to kill him?"

"Because he knows too much? Because even if he's there fifty years, someday someone might find out something?" Jack shrugs, "Dead men tell no tales and well, once his…protector is gone, he's a dead man." I look at him.

"So we get him."

"Right…and once we do that, Kid… it's all on the line—if we don't find anything, well then, we're crooks…and they will find us sooner or later." He looks at me. "Last chance—you could probably get out of the country, find a better job, maybe even get to school." I look down at the table and back up at him.

"And all I have to do is leave Ron…again. Only this time I know I could help him." I shake my head. "No. Let's do this."

To be continued.