Falling For The Enemy. Dawn Stewardson
But even an industrial-strength cleaner couldn’t quite mask the smells of urine, vomit, smoke and body odor. By the time the guard escorted Sloan all the way to the small room used for visits with segregated prisoners, he felt as though he hadn’t showered in a month. Billy was already there, waiting with another guard. The man retreated into the hall when Sloan arrived, ostensibly assuring them of privacy by closing the door, but they were easily visible through its chicken wire window. Plus, Sloan suspected prison officials often listened in to what was being said in the room—despite the fact it would contravene prisoners’ rights. That, of course, was the real reason for his tape recorder.
After setting it on the small table between Billy and him, he pushed both the switch that started the cassette recording and the one to activate the bugdetecting gizmo in the. secret compartment.
Billy sat gazing at the unit, a look in his eyes that told Sloan he was smiling to himself. But why wouldn’t he be? He loved beating the establishment. Any aspect of it. And the tiny detector was state-of-the-art. There wasn’t an electronic listening device in existence it couldn’t pick up on, and if it sensed one within a hundred feet its warning light would start blinking.
They waited a few seconds, but the light didn’t come on. Even so, they’d watch their words and speak mostly in whispers—just in case the guard outside the door had supersensitive hearing.
“Mission accomplished,” Sloan said once he was satisfied that nobody was eavesdropping electronically.
“I know. Brendan phoned last night.”
Sloan nodded, not surprised. Most prisoners weren’t allowed unrestricted access to a phone, but Billy had more than enough money to buy whatever privileges the guards were willing to sell.
He also had enough smarts to carry on conversations that, although they’d sound perfectly innocuous to anyone listening in, were actually full of messages and orders. That was what enabled him to be pretty much still running the Irish Mafia.
His son was the heir apparent, and no dummy himself. But at the moment Brendan’s main job was simply to keep Billy informed and relay his orders to the boys.
Leaning across the table, Billy quietly said, “Does our friend have any good ideas?”
He was referring to Hayley, of course. And asking if, since she’d screwed up their plan, she’d suggested an alternative way of getting him outside the prison.
Other ways certainly existed. They all knew that. But someone like her, on the inside, would know which ones were most likely to succeed at this particular prison. And which one she could be the most help with.
“We haven’t really gotten into that yet,” Sloan said. “Our friend wants something first.”
“Oh?” Billy’s expression suggested that nobody had invited her to negotiate.
“Wants...visiting privileges with her son,” he whispered. “An hour or two an evening.”
For a moment, Billy merely stared across the table. Then he sat back and said, “Fat chance.”
Sloan swore under his breath. He’d known that would be the reaction.
“Getting what you want’s going to take time,” he said. “And our friend’s concerned about the...item’s emotional well-being. And...”
He paused when he saw that Billy was already growing impatient. The man didn’t give a damn about why Hayley wanted to see her son. Or about Max’s mental health. Hell, he never really gave a damn about anyone except himself. So the only thing to do was convince him it would be to his benefit to let Hayley have what she wanted.
“Look, Billy, I’ve given this a lot of thought, and the way I see it, agreeing would be a good idea.”
Billy shook his head. “As long as we’ve got the item, I don’t have to agree to anything.”
“No, you don’t have to.”
“But you think I should? Why?”
“Because as things stand, if our friend cooperates it sure won’t be willingly.”
“If?” Billy repeated with a mean grin. “Like I said, as long as we’ve got the item...”
“You’re right. We can take the cooperation as a given. But say our friend goes along with us, then sees an opportunity, or creates an opportunity, to double-cross us.”
“Not a chance. She’d have too much to lose.”
Sloan told himself he had to do better. “Okay, here’s what’s really worrying me. You know everything we learned about our friend as well as I do. We’re talking someone who takes job responsibilities seriously. Plus, being part of the system, doesn’t look at things the same way most people might. And if you and I are making assumptions that might not exactly apply in these particular circumstances...”
After a glance at the guard, Sloan looked back at Billy and whispered, “Aside from anything else, for all she knows she’ll never see the item again even if she does cooperate. That just might make her try something we’re not expecting.”
Billy hesitated, then said, “You did promise the item would be returned safely, didn’t you?”
“Of course.”
“But you weren’t convincing enough?”
“I did my best. The problem is that we’re not talking about someone naive. We’re talking someone who knows how often this sort of thing ends badly. So I can’t see why we shouldn’t give a little. It wouldn’t hurt us, and there might be a major benefit.”
“What?”
“It would show you’ve got a heart. And it would be taken as a sign that you sincerely intend to return the item. If our friend is convinced you really will, that’ll practically guarantee cooperation.”
When Sloan stopped speaking, Billy resisted the impulse to say that no way was he letting that bitch anywhere near her kid. Even though he hated the thought of giving in to her, if Sloan figured the idea had merit then he’d better not dismiss it too fast.
Sloan was paid help, not part of the family, so he wasn’t always worrying about his place in the pecking order. That meant he didn’t always say what the boss wanted to hear. What he said usually made sense, though. So if he figured Hayley Morgan really might try to cross them...
Maybe it was a possibility. She was smart. And as Sloan said, she knew the system. So maybe she would be arrogant enough to figure she could...
But, dammit, they had her kid. Didn’t that outweigh everything else?
“Billy?” Sloan said quietly.
He continued to stare at the table, not done thinking his way through this. He wanted his freedom back so badly he could taste it, and he’d get only one shot at escaping. If he tried and failed, the guards wouldn’t take their eyes off him until he was so old he couldn’t walk.
But how great was the risk that Morgan really might throw him a curve? He figured it was damned 70 FALLING FOR THE ENEMY unlikely. Still, damned unlikely was no guarantee that she wouldn’t.
“Billy?” Sloan said again.
Billy looked across the table this time, reminding himself that Sloan was both a smart guy and a good judge of people. So if he thought that tossing Morgan this bone would convince her she’d get the kid back safe in the end, that it would keep her from trying anything funny...
The boys wouldn’t like it, though. They’d read it as a sign of weakness.
But what if he put Sloan in charge of the game plan? Then letting her see the kid would be viewed as his weakness.
That’s good, he silently congratulated himself. He hadn’t lost his touch yet.
“All right,” he muttered. “I’ll talk to Brendan and tell him you’re calling