The Prisoner - Carlos J. Cortes [147]
“Unsubstantiated rumors?”
“Persistent, as befits the inevitable. Once humanity had firecrackers, nothing could stop the advent of the cannon. Throughout history, we’ve used prisons to house not only the delinquent but also the troublesome. Now you tell me someone is renting stays in our sugar cubes. Someone getting filthy rich in the process.” He paused and sniffed his liqueur. “The first weird tale I heard about the hibernation system was in connection with the Bova brothers.”
Genia nodded. Nine years before, two young men had been acquitted on a technicality, although they were guilty of murdering six children aged two to six in nasty satanic séances. A year later, they both disappeared. “I remember.”
“I recall hearing at the time that if the Bovas weren’t in a tank, they should be. It stands to reason. If there’s a system with a possible function, someone will use it eventually. Unless you render it impossible.”
“How?”
“Transparency. As it is, the system is opaque, and that can only mean some of its uses wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny.” At last Ritter took a sip, and, judging by the time he kept his eyes closed, it must have met his expectations. When he spoke, his voice dropped a semitone. “I take it Odelle is in this up to her neck.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I thought the idea was to fill me in, not practice sounding-board techniques.”
She waited.
“Odelle Marino is desperate and becoming more so by the day. What happened this evening confirms it. If the operation involved other departments in the government, she would be resigned to take her fall with the rest of the agencies or people involved. But to me it reads as if she would be taking the rap alone, and that can only mean it’s been her setup all along. Who’s pulling the rug out from under her?”
Genia rested her warm snifter on a side table, shocked at the speed with which the moment had presented itself. But to bring Ritter in meant revealing the identities of the others involved. She bit her lower lip. Yet Ritter had committed himself by accepting the codes. “Jerome Palmer.”
Ritter paused his swirling. “I should have known.” He chuckled. Then he turned, his profile in darkness, highlighted by a buttery moon filtering through the sheer drapes. “Who got out?”
“Two young lawyers and—”
“I’ve read the report; three went in and only two got out. But those people just got in. What I meant is, who did they spring out?”
“Eliot Russo.”
Ritter whistled without actually producing any note. “Not bad. Because of his political activism?”
“No. Strictly personal.” She sketched a spurned woman’s vendetta.
“No wonder Odelle Marino is rattled. What surprises me is that she hasn’t cleaned the stables already.”
“She can’t. The men of the Mafiya can’t be trifled with. They command armies and billions of dollars. Also, Russo is sufficiently important to be a credible witness, not to mention the other two. She will attempt to cover her tracks as soon as they’re captured, not before.”
“Why not? It would be a preemptive safeguard.”
“I don’t think it’s that easy. We know that Eliot Russo has been her personal prisoner, but she needs time to deal with the others.”
“I still don’t follow.”
“If the fugitives are captured, my take is that she will ensure the dons remove their property from her tanks as soon as possible. After the hints The Post has been dropping, there’s bound to be an investigation. The inspectors would find nothing amiss, and that would be that.”
Ritter nodded slowly. “And if they manage to fob off the manhunt?”
“She will probably switch the Russians about and make the numbers tally. To physically check the identities of every inmate in the system would take months, perhaps years. At least that’s Palmer’s take.”
“And the hearing?” Ritter asked.
“Day after tomorrow, in the morning.” She finished her drink and outlined the overall strategy.
“Where’s your computer?”
Genia grabbed the bottle and headed toward her study.
day six
Paradiso, Canto VII: 54–56
But I now see your