You also want an ePaper? Increase the reach of your titles
YUMPU automatically turns print PDFs into web optimized ePapers that Google loves.
Falconer 112<br />
Farragut jogged up to his cellblock. There was a pleasant stillness<br />
there at that hour. Tiny was watching a game show on TV.<br />
Farragut stripped off his clothes and washed the sweat off his body<br />
with a rag and cold water. “And now,” the TV announcer said,<br />
“let’s take another look at the prizes. First we have the sterlingsilver-plated<br />
eight-piece Thomas Jefferson coffee service.” This<br />
was cut into and while Farragut was drawing on his pants, another<br />
announcer—a thick-featured young man with yellow hair—said<br />
solemnly: “Inmates at the upstate prison of Amana, commonly<br />
known as The Wall, have rioted and are holding anywhere from<br />
twenty-eight to thirty prison officers as hostages, threatening to<br />
cut their throats if their demands are not met. Prison<br />
Superintendent John Cooper—I’m sorry—Rehabilitation Facility<br />
Superintendent Cooper has agreed to meet the inmates in neutral<br />
territory and is awaiting the arrival of Fred D. Emison, head of the<br />
State Department of Correction. Stay tuned for further news.” The<br />
show cut back to a display of more prizes.<br />
Farragut looked at Tiny. His face was white. Farragut cased the<br />
cellblock. Tennis, Bumpo and the Stone were in. The Stone was<br />
unplugged so that meant that three of them knew. Ransome and<br />
Chicken Number Two came in and both of them gave him a look.<br />
They knew. Farragut tried to guess what would happen. Any sort<br />
of congregation would be forbidden, he guessed, but he guessed<br />
that at the same time any provocative disciplines would be sidestepped.<br />
Chow would be the first congregation, but when the<br />
chow bell rang Tiny opened the cell doors and they headed for the<br />
corridor. “Did you hear that on TV?” Tiny asked Farragut. “You<br />
mean about the Thomas Jefferson eight-piece sterling-silver-plated<br />
coffee service?” asked Farragut. Tiny was sweating. Farragut had<br />
gone too far. He was a lightweight. He had blown it. Tiny might<br />
have nabbed him then, but he was frightened and Farragut was<br />
free to go down to chow. Chow was regulation, but Farragut<br />
looked into every face he saw to judge whether or not they knew.<br />
He put it at twenty percent. The stir in the mess hall was, he
Change language