Luke Stone 03 - Situation Room by Jack Mars

Author:Jack Mars [Mars, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction, Tablet
ISBN: 9781632916075
Google: MvT0vQAACAAJ
Amazon: 163291607X
Publisher: Jack Mars
Published: 2016-06-30T22:00:00+00:00

* * *

The inmate transfer area was inside the gates of the prison.

They brought Trudy out into the warm night. The parking area was a concrete canyon, surrounded by the prison building on three sides, and a guard gate topped with razor wire on the fourth. Harsh lights shone down from all sides. A black van waited, its headlights on, its engine running.

Trudy wore her orange prison jumpsuit. Her hair was pulled into a tight braid, and her wrists were shackled behind her back. She wore slippers with no shoelaces. She was so limp, she nearly had to be supported by the guards who moved her along. They were moving her to the DC Municipal lockup? She would never survive in there.

At first, Trudy thought the transfer had to be a mistake. Why would they transfer her from a federal detention facility to a poorly run and dangerous city one? In the past twenty minutes, she had gradually become aware of an idea. At first, she rejected it, but now she recognized it as the truth. They weren’t moving her because of a court appearance. They were moving her to punish her, to break her once and for all. But they didn’t have to break her. She was already broken.

She felt feverish, delirious. Goose bumps popped up on her skin.

She wasn’t cut out for this! She wasn’t a prisoner! She was an intelligence analyst. She worked for a secret arm of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. She had gone to MIT, for God’s sake.

Figdor was one of the guards bringing her out. Figdor had been in on the contraband search as Trudy passed out of the prison. Figdor was enjoying this, on the one hand. On the other hand, maybe Figdor was sorry to see Trudy go.

Trudy had an idea, one last-ditch chance to save herself. She addressed the guard by her first name.

“Emma,” she said, her voice shaking.

Figdor’s eyebrows raised. “What did you just call me?”

“Emma,” Trudy said again. “They want me to talk. That’s why they’re doing this. They’re trying to break me. I’ll talk. I’ll tell them everything. But I only want to talk to you. They can videotape it.”

Figdor’s head shook. “Well, that’s flattering, but I’m afraid it’s too late. Orders are orders. You’re going to go to hell for a little while, and then maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll come on back here. Then we’ll talk all you want. You’ll be a changed woman by then, maybe not quite so stuck up.”

A guard came around from the front of the van. He was tall and broad. He wore a different uniform from the prison guards. He looked more like a police officer or a US marshal than a guard. Also unlike the guards, he stood ramrod straight, with military bearing, the way Don Morris used to stand every moment of his life.

A brief image of Don flitted across Trudy’s mind. Why was she protecting him? He had brought her to this, with no concern for her welfare, and besides, he was already a dead man.

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