It was hard to be a criminal mastermind. There were so many things to take into account, not to mention all the planning. If he had been lazy, none of this would be coming together. As it was, he still had some doubts. Sure, he’d gotten confirmation from several interested parties, but people were unreliable, unpredictable, and if they thought too hard on something, they could talk themselves out of it.
This last made them vulnerable. It only worked if they were a unit with one goal and great leadership. The leadership was there. The rest of it made him a little nervous.
It didn’t help that he was dealing with sociopaths, psychopaths, and whackos. None of them were reliable. If they were caught, they all faced very harsh sentences.
Spending the rest of his life in the Fortress didn’t bother him, not really. It was just another place. It was the contents of the Fortress. The guards were all US Marshals. The inmates had formed fan clubs for the SCTU and VCU; fucking fan clubs of all things. They dealt with things in their own manner.
Then there was the problem of Eric and Patterson Clachan. They would need to be dealt with. He only had a couple of months to finalize everything. Eric and Patterson Clachan were actually his biggest obstacles. Some of the interested parties were not interested in dealing with the Clachans should they end up behind bars.
That was why he was sitting across from a hired killer named Yuri Kozlov. Kozlov had been a contract killer in a previous life and while most contract killers didn’t get a thrill from it, he did.
“Let me get this straight, you want me to arrange for Eric and Patterson Clachan to be killed?” Yuri said to him.
“Yes.”
“Are you insane?”
“Yes.”
“That explains a lot.” Yuri leaned forward as much as possible. “You realize that everyone is scared shitless of the Clachans? They don’t just kill, they kill serial killers and they aren’t above killing their own family members.”
“I know, but it will be very lucrative. I’ll wire money to your family, and they will live more comfortably than they ever imagined.”
“You have that kind of money?”
“Yes.”
“Am I just supposed to take your word for it?”
“Yes; however, should you demand proof, I will send a partial payment to your wife today.”
“I don’t know.” Yuri shook his head.
“Why the hesitation?”
“If we kill both of them, Aislinn Cain can do a rotation here as a guard. She’s great from a distance, but up close and personal, that’s a different story. She’ll be out for blood and the Marshals are sure to send her.”
“I will worry about Aislinn Cain.”
“You think you’re special enough to get that close to her?” Yuri smirked. “You are delusional, even for a psycho. She’ll punch your ticket just as soon as you walk through her front door.”
“I have a fool proof plan to rid the world of Aislinn Cain, Xavier Reece, Gabriel Henders, Caleb Green, Fiona Stewart, and Malachi Blake, yet, you have qualms over a few killings inside a prison where you are serving a life prison sentence anyway?”
“Yes, because if I succeed and you fail, that battle axe comes after me.”
“She is human.”
“She’s part devil. I’ve had a conversation with her. She gives crazy a run for its money. I don’t believe you have the capabilities of stopping her.”
“I do.”
“I need some kind of proof.” Yuri sighed. “Because if you don’t and she walks into this prison with blood lust on her brain, there isn’t anywhere we can hide. And that’s if we manage to kill both Clachans without upsetting her fan club. Brent Timmons isn’t a slouch. None of the guys in her fan club are. We are talking cream of the crop serial killers making fucking scrap books of her.”
“Did I mention she is human?”
“Yes, but I don’t believe you. Most of the people in this prison would disagree with that assessment. Most think she’s the goddamn boogeyman or worse. The other issue is Malachi Blake. We don’t want him in here either. If he finds out we staged some sort of distraction so that Aislinn Cain can be killed, there’s no telling what he will do. His hinges aren’t exactly on right. I want guarantees that both can be dealt with. Once I have that, I will consider your proposition.”
“This is a take it or leave it deal.”
“Then I’ll pass. Even Apex wouldn’t take a job like this.”
“Fine,” the other man stood up from the table. He adjusted his jacket and paused. “You will not speak of this, do you understand?”
“Sure, whatever.” Yuri wanted the man with no name gone. His proposition was insane even among the insane.
“Good.” the man extended his hand. Yuri shook it as best he could. “I’m sorry I couldn’t convince you.”
Yuri watched his visitor walk away. Something bad was about to happen. He could feel it in his gut. The man with no name was bad news. He didn’t know how he had gotten in to the Fortress or onto his visitor’s list. It was something to consider. This wasn’t exactly Club Fed. He looked at the Marshal nearby, the new one.
“You need to deliver a message to Gabriel Henders and Malachi Blake,” Yuri told him. “Both of their units are in danger.”
“Whatever, time to go back to your cell,” the new man, Blythe, told him. “They can take care of themselves.”
Yuri looked at him, shocked. He’d never met a Marshal that didn’t care about the safety of other Marshals. It was part of their job. Fine, he’d go back to his cell and write a note to Patterson. Patterson would take him seriously.
The problem was that they were only allowed writing instruments for a few minutes a day and they were supervised. His newest cellblock guard was kind of an asshole, even by the standards of Marshals running a prison. His other option was at lunch. He could do it then and it was almost lunchtime.
Yuri entered his cell, let the guard uncuff him, and sat down on his bed to watch the clock. Nothing else interested him. This wasn’t a mob play or Slavi wouldn’t have sent Marshal Cain to talk to him. What it was, well, that was still a mystery to him and they wouldn’t see it coming, not unless something could be done about it. The seconds ticked by impossibly slow. When the ten minutes was up, he stood up, and he was waiting to be handcuffed when the Marshals came around.
Eric and Patterson Clachan sat alone at a table, as they always did. Sometimes, others sat with them, but it was rare. Yuri took a seat across from Patterson.
“A strange man came to see me today.” Yuri decided against introductions and chitchat. “He wanted to hire me to kill both of you. I think Aislinn Cain is in trouble. I think the SCTU and VCU are in trouble. I don’t know what is being planned, but if they want you two dead, it must have something to do with her and Blake.”
“How did a strange man come to see you?” Eric asked.
“I don’t know, which is why I said strange. He isn’t on my visitor’s list, but we met in the visitor’s area and not in one of the interrogation rooms,” Yuri said. His stomach felt queasy. “That new Marshal escorted me.” Pain started in his gut. He closed his eyes. What was wrong with him? He was going to throw up. He turned away from Eric and Patterson and disgorged the contents of his stomach. Copious amounts of blood coated the floor.
Eric and Patterson exchanged looks. There was movement behind them, not the guards, but someone else. Eric spun to get out of the bench table that had him trapped in time to be dealt a blow to his kidney. He stared into the eyes of Alejandro Gui. The bigger man smiled at him. Eric smiled back. His hands moved, and within a moment, Alejandro was down on the ground. Eric’s hand was coated in blood.
Eric’s knees gave as Patterson shouted something to him. It sounded like good-bye, but that was implausible. Even if Eric had just been killed, Patterson wouldn’t have said good-bye.
“Full out war,” he heard someone else say. The Marshal loomed over him suddenly. His eyes were frantic. Sounds of fighting were all around him. Marshal Graves grabbed Eric and pulled him under the table. Alejandro Gui was still writhing on the floor, a thick pool of black ooze spreading around the tall man.
Yuri was right. Aislinn and Malachi were in trouble. Eric was sure that he was going to die, hiding under a table, cradled in the arms of a US Marshal, with no way to help his sister. His back didn’t hurt. He wasn’t sure if he was in shock or under the influence of the darkness that lurked within. Neither felt right. It was a wound, sure, but that wouldn’t have sent him into shock, unless he was close to bleeding out. He didn’t feel calm either, or rageful. He felt frantic. He needed to get a message to Aislinn, only he didn’t know what to say or whether it would be delivered. The strange man, the new guards, something was off. It was as if the US Marshals were in the middle of a civil war and the Fortress was the first battle. Did that make Marshal Lazar friend or foe? Eric didn’t struggle to be released. He felt the Marshal’s hand searching his back, applying pressure.
The cafeteria was in full riot mode. The Marshals were outnumbered three to one and even if they hadn’t been, they wouldn’t have stood a chance against a prison full of sociopaths and psychopaths. Eric watched all this from the relative safety provided by the table. He had to help. He pulled away, forcing his body to move. Marshal Lazar called to him, but he ignored his orders. If the killers took the prison, it would be very bad, probably for his sister and Malachi. Maybe that was the situation.
Brent Timmons came up to him.
“You’re bleeding, bad,” Brent told him.
“We have to take control and hand it back over to the Marshals,” Eric told him. Timmons looked at him for a moment, blinking rapidly three times as he did.
“Why?” Timmons finally asked.
“Because this has something to do with Aislinn.” Eric turned his dark brown eyes on Timmons. Timmons visibly stepped back. He was the current president of the Aislinn Cain fan club. There were approximately thirty members within the prison. This gave both Eric and Patterson some power with the group.
“Man, that’s crazy,” Timmons finally said.
“Really? They just tried to kill Patterson and me. Why would they come after us if they weren’t after Aislinn?” Eric asked him. Timmons was smart, smart enough to connect the dots. He swung a food tray, catching another inmate in the throat with the hard plastic edge. The inmate dropped to the ground, gurgling and twitching.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Timmons swore loudly. “Okay, we take control and hand it back to the Marshals.”