From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [316]
“In Macy’s window at high noon on Sataday,” Prew said. “Old Angelo.”
“Did you meet Father Thompson yet?” Angelo said. “Yeah, you must of,” he answered himself, “you said your back was sore. But did you meet old Fatso yet?”
“You mean S/Sgt Judson.”
“Thats him. In person. The man, the right hand man, who carries out the orders to the best of his ability—and then even volunteers a few ideas of his own. How’d you like him?”
“He dint seem to be too much inclined toward friendliness,” Prew said. “But maybe he’s just bashful.”
“Friendliness,” Maggio grinned at him wolfishly. “Fatso is the orignl man who burned the orignl book that had that word in it. Whatever you do, stay away from Fatso. If Fatso tells you to eat a plate of shit, you eat it, and whats more, you like it, hear?”
“I may eat it,” Prew said, “but I wont like it.”
“If its Fatso,” Angelo grinned wolfishly, “you’ll like it. He’ll even have you back for seconds just to prove it.”
“What barracks you in?” Prew said. “I’m in the west one.”
“I’m in the middle one,” Angelo grinned.
“Oh,” Prew grinned, “a fuckup.”
“Thats me,” Angelo grinned happily. “I guess I talk too much. They got on me right after that queer investigation down town, remember? Remember Brownie? Brownie turned me in on that. That started it. They rode me and I talked some more and got three days in the Hole. Man,” he said, “wait till you see the Hole.”
“I aint anxious.”
“Listen,” Angelo said eagerly, and his eyes lit up feverishly. “I got a plan, see? I—”
He stopped and looked around nervously, at where the other prisoners toiled endlessly in the blue fatigues with the great white Ps on the back. Automatically he placed the position of all three of the guards. The working prisoners were carrying on, out of the corners of their mouths, grinning wolfishly, the conversations that could never be entirely stamped out. The guards were trying to keep all of them working, and at the same time stay far enough back out of the dust to keep their uniforms and riotguns clean. None of them were paying any attention to Angelo Maggio, but Angelo glared at them wildly and still shook his head warily and nervously.
“Too many stools,” he said cautiously. “I’ll tell you later on. But I got it all planned out, see? I figured it out myself, and Jack Malloy says its a lead pipe cinch for me. Nobody knows anything about it but me and him. I’ll tell you, but I aint taking no chances, see?” he said with a sly cunning. “They got stools spotted all over the joint, but they aint pulling that on Angelo Maggio.”
Watching him, Prew seemed to see him change subtly into a totally different man, as if he had drunk the magic potion and was pulling a Jekyll and Hyde. He was like a man gloating secretly over a jewel that he knew everybody was trying to steal and he even stared at Prew calculatingly suspiciously, as if he had learned the hard way that even friendship was suspect before so great a temptation. Then slowly he changed back, becoming the old Angelo that Prew knew again.
“Anyway,” he said, “when I come out of the Hole they threwn me in Number Two, right along with all the tough boys. I was scared at first, but hell, we got the best bunch of guys in the joint. More fun than a barrel of monkeys. Jack Malloy’s in Number Two. You got to get yourself in with us as soon as you can.”
“How do I do it?” Prew said.
“Best ways to complain about the food. That always works. Thats how Jack Malloy got back in, first thing he did was bitch over the food to get back in Number Two. They may let you off the first time because you’re new maybe. But the second time they’ll sock it to you, give you a couple days in the Hole, then throw you in Number Two.
“Jack Malloy’s in Number Two,” Angelo said. “He’s my buddy. Wait’ll you meet him. He’s a three time loser and the smartest joe in this hockshop. You wait, you’ll like him. Jack Malloy’s your kind of a guy.”
“Who the hell is this Jack Malloy anyway?” Prew said testily. “All I hear since I came here is this Jack Malloy. He seems to be the number one topic of conversation.