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Read Ebook: Criminal Negligence by McComas J Francis Freas Kelly Illustrator
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Ebook has 262 lines and 9788 words, and 6 pages
"Nothin' wrong with me that a day outside couldn't cure."
Mario ran a hand over his sleek, black hair. "Better a night, sure," he grinned back. Then he sobered and said to the orderly, "Warden wants to see the doc. Right away."
"Mr. Halloran sick?"
"Naw ... it's business. Urgent business."
"Real urgent, Joe? The doc's doing a pretty serious exam right now."
Mario paused, then said, "You guys might as well know about it. There's a general and a civilian in the warden's office. They're talkin' about something outside. Warden wants the doc in on it."
Sudden tension flowed out between the three men. Down the hall, a patient screamed suddenly in the psycho ward. The three of them jerked, then grinned feebly at each other.
Vukich said slowly, "Well, you don't start playing catch with atom bombs without dropping a few. Wonder what it's like ... out there?"
"Get the doc," Mario said. "I've got to be on my way."
"Me, too." Vukich's thin, clever face looked thoughtful.
The others stared blankly at him and said nothing.
As Alfred Court, captain of the prison, strode down the flower-bordered path that led from the shops unit past A block to the administration building, a side door in A block clanged open and a sergeant came out. The sergeant turned without seeing his superior and walked hurriedly toward the administration wing.
"Hey, sarge!" Court called. "What's the hurry?"
The sergeant whirled, recognized the captain and quickly saluted.
"Glad to see you, sir," he said. "Just the man I was looking for!"
"Good enough. What's on your mind? Better tell me as we go for the warden's in a hurry to see me."
The two men walked abreast, both big, although Court lacked any trace of the sergeant's paunch. As they walked and talked, their eyes darted continually about, unconsciously checking the appearance of the buildings, the position of the guard in the gun tower, the attitude of a very old inmate who was meticulously weeding a flower bed.
"Captain, you going to let the men out for their yard time?"
Court's pace slowed. "Why not?"
"With what?"
"I can't put my finger on it. But all the men know there's some pretty big shots--at least one general, they say--in the warden's office, right now. There's a hot rumor that there's trouble outside--some sort of disaster."
Court laughed shortly. "That Mario! He's going to lose a nice job if he doesn't keep his mouth shut!"
"None of them keep their mouths shut, captain."
"Yes ... well, I don't know what's up, myself. I'm heading for that conference right now. I'll ask the warden about letting the men out of their cells. What's their attitude?"
The sergeant's broad, red face grew more troubled.
"Uh ... the men aren't hostile, captain. They seem worried, nervous ... kind of scared. If somebody at the top--the warden or yourself--could convince them things were as usual outside ... they'd quiet down, I'm sure."
They were now thirty feet from the door to the administration building a door that opened for but one man at a time. The officers stopped.
"Yeah--"
"Right, captain."
He remained where he was while Captain Court walked slowly toward the door, both hands well in sight. A pace from the door he stopped and exchanged a few words with someone watching him through a barred peephole. After a moment, the door slid open and he walked into the building.
He was the last to arrive at the warden's office. Lansing gazed at him in fascination. Goldsmid had been a Golden Gloves champion middleweight before he had heeded the call of the Law, and he looked it. Dr. Slade was the prototype of all overworked doctors. But Court was a type by himself. Lansing thought he'd never seen a colder eye. Yet, the captain's lean face--so unlike the warden's mild, scholarly one--was quiet, composed, unmarked by any weakness of feature or line of self-indulgence. A big, tough man, Lansing mused, a very tough man. But a just one.
"I've a problem, warden," Court said when the introductions were over. "Something we should decide right away."
"Can't it wait?" Knox said irritably.
Lansing almost choked with stifled laughter when Court just glanced briefly at Knox, then said quietly to the warden, "Sergeant Haines has just advised me that the inmates know about these gentlemen and they're--restless. I wonder if we shouldn't keep the men in their cells this afternoon."'
"Blast it!" roared Knox. "Can't you people keep a secret?"
"There are no secrets in prison, general," Halloran said mildly. "I learned that my first week as a guard, twenty years ago." To Court he said, "Sit down, Alfred. Unless you disagree strongly, I think we'll let the men out as usual. It's a risk, yes, but right now, the closer we stick to normal routine, the better."
"You're probably right, sir."
Court sat down and Halloran turned to his two visitors.
"Now, gentlemen," he smiled, "we're at your disposal. As I told you, my two associate wardens aren't here. Mr. Briggs is in town and Mr. Tate is home ill. Dr. McCall, our Protestant clergyman, is also home, recovering from a siege with one of those pesky viruses. But we here represent various phases of our administration and can certainly answer all of your questions."
"Questions!" Knox snorted. "We're here to tell you the facts--not ask."
"General," soothed Lansing. He looked across the desk at Halloran and shrugged slightly. The warden twinkled. "General Knox is a trifle ... ah, overblunt, but he's telling you the essential truth of the situation. We've come to take you away from here. Just as soon as you can leave."
"Hey?" cried Slade. "Leave here? The devil, man, I've got to take out a gall bladder this afternoon!"
"I'm afraid I don't understand," murmured Goldsmid. "I thought the war was over--"
"This is all nonsense!" There was an ominous note in Knox's hoarse voice. "Do you people realize you're now under the authority of the Fifth Defense Command?"
Lansing cried: "Let's be sensible about all this!" He pointed his cigar at the fuming soldier. "General, these gentlemen have every right to know the situation and we'll save time if you'll permit me to give them a quick briefing."
"All right! All right!"
"Well, then." Lansing crossed his long legs, glanced nervously about the room, and said, "The world as we know it is done with. Finished. In another week it will be completely uninhabitable."
"Hey," grunted Slade. "You Lansing, the physicist?"
"That's right, doctor."
"Didn't place you at first. Well, what's going to end this lousy old world of ours?"
Goldsmid muttered something in Hebrew.
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