THE EXTRACTOR - MISSION: JAILBREAK by J.T. Brannan

Author:J.T. Brannan [Brannan, J.T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grey Arrow Publishing
Published: 2019-08-31T22:00:00+00:00

11

Lee was in the nicest room he’d been in at La Modelo; not that there had been much competition so far.

He was in the private office of Pablo Hernández, the chief warden of the prison, who sat across from Lee, on the other side of an expansive desk, littered with paperwork and a computer monitor that was about a decade out of date.

Lee had both hands cuffed behind his back, and he’d had his legs shackled for good measure. There were also four guards in the room with them, one to each corner. It was the same three with the MP5s that had caught him in the corridor, plus one extra that they’d brought in just for him. They certainly weren’t taking any more chances with him. He noted that the safety catches were all on, but for a trained professional, it wouldn’t take long to flick them off.

“So, what shall we call you?” Hernández asked with a raised eyebrow. “Because Mateo Aguero is still down in the yard.”

“Just call me El Guapo,” Lee suggested. It meant “the handsome one”.

“Why not chinita del Golfo?” the warden asked.

“Doesn’t seem that friendly.”

Hernández laughed. “Well, Guapo, we can’t have that, can we? But we’ll know who you are, soon enough. We have your pictures, and we have your prints. You’ll be on file. But why not make it easier on yourself? Tell me your real name, and we can start filling in the paperwork.”

“What paperwork?”

“The paperwork that will add about ten years to whatever sentence you currently have.”

At least, Lee figured, that meant the warden still thought that Lee belonged here. And with eleven thousand prisoners, why not? He couldn’t possibly remember all of them.

“You make a tempting offer,” Lee told him.

The warden laughed again. “You are a funny man, Guapo. Funny, but dangerous, eh? Reports indicate you beat up seven men in the yard last night, another at breakfast this morning, and then three in the infirmary, while handcuffed to a bed.”

“The last three don’t count,” Lee said. “They were part of that initial seven you mentioned.”

Hernández shrugged. “Either way, it doesn’t look good. What shall we do with you?”

“Let me go?” Lee offered.

“No, Guapo, I don’t think so. I am too curious as to who you are. You see, nobody here recognizes you. And your . . . appearance, let’s say, is a little out of the ordinary. We have Asians here, of course, but not so many that we lose track. It almost makes me think that you don’t belong here at all.”

“What do you mean?” Lee asked, starting to feel nervous. Maybe the warden was more suspicious than Lee had first thought?

“I mean, the first anyone sees or hears from you is last night, right around the time of that explosion on Carrera. Some men believe in coincidences, Guapo. I do not. So, maybe someone blew up the car to make a distraction, so you could get in here?”

“You must be crazy, man. Who the hell would do that?”

“Let us look at the timing.

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