The Prisoner - Carlos J. Cortes [128]
“Come.” He tendered a hand to a frowning Laurel as the front door opened and heavy treads echoed down the corridor.
At the hall, they almost crashed into Raul as he barreled down the steps, somehow roused from his sleep.
When they reached the living room, Antonio and Tyler were already there, standing in the middle of the room and staring at Lukas, stationary by the window.
“I may be an idiot, but I’m not crazy,” Lukas said in a strangely detached voice.
Tyler nodded to Antonio, who neared the fireplace, peered at the cell phone, and shook his head once.
“Odelle Marino’s offer is a trap; even a child can see that. Our only chance—and that includes mine and my family’s—rests with Russo’s capacity to testify. Besides,” Lukas glanced toward the cell phone, “I bet the fucking thing doesn’t even work.”
Floyd neared Antonio and Tyler without letting go of Laurel’s hand and stared, dumbfounded, at the sorrowful Woody Allen look-alike by the window. Raul edged around them and slumped on a sofa, his eyes never leaving Lukas.
“But it occurred to me we could use her offer to our advantage,” Lukas continued. “You don’t need to disclose your plans. Just tell me what to say when I call that number.”
Tyler paced over to Lukas and towered over him for an instant before slapping his shoulder, making the shorter man wince. Then he turned to the others. “I propose a war council.” With that, he marched to a corner bookcase, removed a few books, tweaked something that produced a few clicks, and returned to the center of the room, a device the size of a small book in his hand. “Communications,” he explained.
Antonio reached to his neck, pulled out a glossy black cord, fingered a rounded object threaded on it to recover a tiny plastic sliver, and slotted it on a side of Tyler’s device.
“Who are we calling?” Laurel asked.
“That’s irrelevant,” Tyler answered. “What matters is who will be listening.”
day five
Purgatorio, Canto XXII: 30–32
Indeed, because true causes are concealed,
we often face deceptive reasoning
and things provoke perplexity in us.
The Divine Comedy, DANTE ALIGHIERI
chapter 43
06:45
Although their brainstorming had lasted until late, Floyd was already up at dawn, soon joined by everybody else. He insisted Russo be moved from the den at the rear of the house to the living room. “I’ve withdrawn the last of the sedation.” He nodded to the sofa they had moved to face a wall with the TV panel. “Let’s make him comfortable on the couch. Our talk and the TV chatter may reassure him this is not Hypnos or the DHS.”
Once Floyd had removed the lines tethering Russo to the IV stands—but kept the intravenous ports in place—Raul hefted the emaciated figure with the same care he would have a baby and carried him to the living room. At the couch, they propped Russo on cushions while Floyd once more secured a bag to his penile catheter and reconnected the IV lines. Then he motioned with his hand for Lukas to lower the blinds and switch on a low-wattage lamp in a corner.
While Antonio rustled up a fresh pot of coffee, the others dragged furniture around to compensate for the new arrangement and stopped to hear a news announcement: Congress had launched an inquiry into the breakout. Genia Warren, the FBH director, and Odelle Marino, the director of Homeland Security, had been subpoenaed to appear before the congressional select committee overseeing the penitentiary system in two days.
Laurel sat on the edge of the sofa at Russo’s feet, absently rubbing her hand over his alien-looking toes, bone-thin and sans nails.
“They won’t grow back, you know,