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Twenty

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The marshals at The Fortress buzzed us in after inspecting our IDs and checking out our tactical vehicle and the prisoner in our car. The gate had just barely slid closed behind us when a line of police cars with their lights and sirens on pulled up to the gates.

“Friends of yours?” Marshal Damon Dillard asked as I got out of the vehicle.

“Possibly,” I admitted.

“We watched you ram a police car. It was broadcast as Breaking News,” Damon said.

“Terrific.”

“If it makes you feel any better, the prisoners were on their TV hour and they all saw it, too. Considering your new vehicle is branded SCTU, they were cheering for you guys.” The prisoners inside The Fortress were allowed two hours of TV a day. It was broadcast onto the reflective Lexan fronts of their cells. They couldn’t be allowed anything harder than crayons in their cells or they used them to kill each other; that included TVs and other objects that could be taken apart for repurposing. Yet, it was deemed cruel and unusual to not allow them TV time. Originally, it had been an hour a day in a common area, but fights had broken out over what to watch and people had died. When The Fortress had to be rebuilt the previous year, they’d put projectors in the hallway ceilings to broadcast on the Lexan cell fronts, at least in the high security areas. In the lower security areas, they were still allowed community room TV time. My brother and most of the SCTU fan club members were in the higher security areas.

“Aislinn Cain, come out with your hands up,” a voice said through a loudspeaker on the other side of the gates.

“They do know this prison is under the jurisdiction of the US Marshals and not the Department of Corrections, right?” Damon asked. I shrugged. “Why exactly do they want to arrest you? You obviously weren’t driving when the police car was rammed. Not to mention you have a high value prisoner on board.”

“Apparently, they are convinced my mother and I conspired to murder Yuri Brogdon.”

“I’m sorry, isn’t your mom in her seventies?”

“Yes, but she did kill Yuri Brogdon.” I nodded. “However, she and I did not conspire to do it and she was defending herself after Brogdon shot her in the knee.”

“Ah, someone on the take is framing you,” Damon said. “Well, they won’t come in here to get you if you need to hide out.”

“Meh, I don’t know that I do. But you never know,” I said. My phone began ringing. I looked at the caller ID and saw Gabriel’s name. “That’s my boss. Can you process Lydia Rolf?”

“Yeah, we got it. But I don’t think you guys should try leaving yet.”

“No kidding,” Lucas said.

“Hey, boss,” I said, answering the phone.

“Homeland Security is en route to The Fortress along with a few select members of the Secret Service. The warden has graciously offered to feed your lot lunch. You are absolutely not to leave, as somehow Jones got an arrest warrant for you,” Gabriel said very quickly. “Did Lydia Rolf get delivered safely?”

“She got a bump on the head when we had to ram the police cruiser, but otherwise yes.”

“Apparently, the warden is going to feed us, because as soon as I leave I’ll be arrested.” I told the rest of the group after I hung up.

“You’re kidding,” one of the marshals I didn’t know said.

“Unfortunately not.” I sighed. “I hate cafeteria food.”

“May I point out the irony of eating lunch at a prison to prevent being arrested?” the marshal that had driven said. There were a couple of chuckles.

“Aislinn Cain, we have a warrant for your arrest. Surrender peacefully or we will be forced to come in and get you,” the loudspeaker announced.

“Maybe they did forget it’s marshals property,” I said with a shrug. “Homeland Security is on the way, though.”

“With Mexican. Director Burns said it’s your favorite and you were going to need it today. He is arriving via helicopter and should be here in a few minutes. He has backup arriving via vehicle,” the warden said, walking out of The Fortress. A siren started to blare. Parts of The Fortress are fully automated. This includes one gun turret on top of the building. We could all hear it whirring to life.

“This entire thing is weird,” I said.

“Yes it is, but they found your blood at the scene of Yuri Brogdon’s demise,” the warden told me. “Testing proved it had been refrigerated and had anticoagulant in it. The real question is how many members of the task force are on the take at this point. That is something Homeland Security and the Secret Service are very interested in.”

“Why would that interest the Secret Service?” Lucas asked.

“They found a lot of phony hundreds in Yuri’s secret room. Really good phony hundreds, but still phony.”

“Ah, counterfeiting is Secret Service jurisdiction.” I nodded. “Cashiers and bank tellers wouldn’t question a hundred dollar bill handed to them by a cop in uniform.”

“No, they would not,” the warden said. “Our goal now is to not let you get arrested. There’s chatter that if you are arrested, you are to die before you see the inside of an interrogation room.”

“Good to know,” I said.

“The guy who took Yuri’s place already has a hit out on you close to a million and one close to a million and a half for your mom.”

“Paid in phony money,” Lucas said. “Who would issue a warrant for Aislinn’s arrest based on blatantly obvious, planted blood?”

“Someone who wants to see how far the corruption goes at the insistence of the NSA, FBI, US Marshals, and DOJ,” the warden said.

“Therefore, it’s not worth the paper it’s written on,” I said.

“No, and the guy who brought the warrant to be signed was also nice enough to bring a bit of money to the judge.”

“Wow,” I said.

“We think they are panicked.”

“Then it seems possible they might try to storm your prison,” I said.

“That would decrease their lifespan exponentially. That was why I had the riot alarm sounded. It alerts everyone, inside and out, that we will be using lethal force.” I could hear two helicopters now. One had a news logo on it. The other was too far away to see. “That is probably Director Burns coming in for a landing. We should go in and meet him on the top floor after he exits the helipad.”

“Sure,” I said and we all followed the warden inside.

“I can’t believe all 20 or 30 officers out there are on the take,” Lucas said once we were inside the secure entrance.

“Some of them probably aren’t,” the warden said. “There’s probably only ten or so total out of the mob of 50-plus. The others have been shown the arrest warrant and think this is a righteous bust. That’s why Homeland Security is stepping in. It’s a public relations nightmare for all those local police departments and the Marshals Service, especially since we have arranged to bring Marshal Cain into The Fortress for her own protection.”

“What about my mom?” I asked.

“Your mom was moved to a more secure location. You can eat lunch with her if you want,” the warden told me.

“You brought my mom here?” I asked.

“Yes. As soon as a couple of detectives started calling judges to get an arrest warrant for you, we realized the problem was bigger than expected. The marshals at the hospital medivacked her here for her own protection and we put her in our special infirmary area. She’s still under guard by the marshals who brought her in. There are marshals guarding your house, Nadine, Zeke, Kenzie, Anthony, Alex, Sebastian, Trevor, Melina, the baby, and the menagerie of animals you guys brought into the neighborhood should someone decide firebombing your house is a good idea.”

“All of this because my mom killed Yuri Brogdon?” I asked.

“No, all of this because rumor is your mom and you conspired to kill him to keep him from revealing that he had you on his payroll.”

“They think I’m dirty?” I said, shocked, and then I started to cry.

“At the moment, yes.” The warden gave me a sideways look.

“Sorry, I’m getting ready for an egg harvest, the hormones make me cry. I cannot control it.”

“Are you excited?” The warden asked, looking at Lucas. It was no secret that Lucas and Trevor were going to have a baby with my eggs. The news had spread like a wildfire during a dry July around the neighborhood full of law enforcement officers.

“Excited and nervous,” Lucas replied, and we heard a different alarm go off.

“Helicopter landing,” the warden said.

“Can I see my mom before I see the Director?” I asked.

“No,” the warden said to me. “Sorry, but you need to see Director Burns first. Your mother is with a visitor and she’s still really drugged up from the helicopter flight over. She was a bit unruly and they sedated her.”

“She hates helicopters and she was probably really angry.”

“Angry doesn’t even come close,” the warden said.