| "ANGEL'S TONGUE PART 2: VENGEANCE STRUT" BY CALLUM HOUSTON |
MEMO
To: Warden Yaleton's Office
From: Officer McAffer
Date: April 1, 2018
RE: Electrochopper Sighting.
On Friday, March 31, 2018, between 3:04 a.m. and 3:14 a.m. I observed a
black electrochopper fly into the airspace of Latremouille Correctional
Facility and buzz the prison. The aircraft hovered above the forested
areas north of the prison then descended to the road running parallel
to the fenced yard that is now deserted because we don't allow the
inmates out any more. The electrochopper slowly creeped parallel
alongside the fence, mere feet away from the structure, as though some
kind of training exercise were being conducted. The chopper then
ascended, and at one point it threatened to land on the roof of the
prison. I was unable to see any identification markings on the
chopper. It looked to me like a SuperDragonfly Electrochopper. The
incident lasted about ten minutes. I have not contacted any authority
outside Latremouille with respect to this occurrence. It is my
assumption this electrochopper could only have been one of ours.
MEMO
TO: Officer McAffer
FROM: Officer Takahashi for Warden Yaleton
DATE: June 21, 2018
RE: Electrochopper Sighting.
I have concluded my investigation into your March 31, 2018 sighting of
an electrochopper operating within the bounds of prison property. I am
now at liberty to reply.
The arrival of the aircraft, if there in fact was one, was not
authorized by Latremouille Correctional Facility. However, if the
incident did occur as you claim, it is a "trespassing" matter, one that
is governed by the appropriate regulatory authority, not by
Latremouille Correctional Facility. It is not within our jurisdiction
to pursue the issue.
As such the matter is now closed.
MEMO
To: Officer Takahashi for Warden Yaleton
From: Officer McAffer
Date: June 25, 2018
RE: Electrochopper Sighting.
You have informed me that the occurrence of a SuperDragonfly
Electrochopper trespassing within the bounds of the prison is not a
matter that is governed by prison security. Does this mean if I see
another electrochopper incursion, the incident should not be reported
to the warden's office?
MEMO
TO: Officer McAffer
FROM Officer Takahashi for Warden Yaleton
DATE: November 13, 2018
RE: Electrochopper Sighting.
I have received your June 25, 2018 memo requesting clarification
regarding procedure when an unauthorized aircraft enters the area of
Latremouille. As previously stated, any such activity does not fall
within the jurisdiction of our security personnel.
Further, unless the matters you bring to the attention of the warden's
office are fresh in nature, we will not be responding to you in the
future. Do not attempt to call the office or access it in person.
Please keep this in mind and refrain from recycling this electrochopper
complaint over and over.
The matter is closed.
MEMO
TO: Officer Takahashi for Warden Yaleton
FROM: Officer McAffer
DATE: November 18, 2018
RE: Electrochopper Sighting.
You have stated that you will only respond to my memos if the incident
I report is "fresh." Please provide me with your definition of "fresh"
so from now on I am able to filter out any activity that does not fall
into that category.
"ANGELICO!" the clown shouts. "GET THE FUCK UP! NOW! INSPECTION!"
Ted Angelico, the man they call Teddy Angel, gets up from his bunk and slowly walks to his
position outside the door where he stands and waits while the clown conducts the daily cell
inspection. The drill is routine, only Bozo's name changes. Today it's McAffer. McAffer
scrutinizes the room. When he gets to the toilet he stares at it. And stares at it. It's spotless.
Angelico wonders if McAffer is impressed.
"This shitter is fuckin' rancid. What kind of a statement are trying to make here, huh? Why didn't
you clean it?"
"I did clean it. Not to your satisfaction?"
McAffer leers at Angelcio then looks back at the toilet. Finally he says, "You did not clean this
fuckin' toilet."
Angelico bristles, not accustomed to being called a liar to his face, but he takes it cold; Yaleton's
boy McAffer, unaware of Angelico's exalted status, has a hostile head, difficult to penetrate, not his
fault.
"You are pushing my limits, monkey man," McAffer says. "I've got a ticket in my pocket with your
name on it for thirty days of lockdown. I am about to lock you down for a month! Is that what
you want? To be locked down for a month?"
McAffer looks away from Angelico and peers at the floor around the toilet boil. "Look, down here,
on the floor, your shit and piss is everywhere...are you even using this goddamn thing?"
Angelico steps over to the toilet in the corner of the cell and looks. He sees nothing.
"Go get a mop and scrub this fuckin' toilet clean. Let's go."
Shadowing Angelico down the hall of the solitary confinement unit, McAffer growls, "Not fast
enough. Move it! Step up the pace or you've got a month's lockdown coming."
Angelico wheels the bucket by the mop handle to the sink and fills it up with scalding hot water and
detergent then returns to his cell and mops around the base of the toilet, McAffer watching every
movement.
Glaring, McAffer says, "Angelico, this prison is my home and you're shittin' and urinating all over it.
I will not allow you to sully my home. I'll be back in five minutes to resume this inspection. And
I've got bad news for you, fella. Yaleton's extended the directive to restrict your diet. You'll eat
nothing but rice and cold beans for another six months. No coffee, no tea, water only. And no
library access."
Ted Angelico takes his orders from the sovereign lord of the bitterly black, cynical abyss. And all
his god demands is that Teddy Angel execute his revenge, the succulent revenge to which he is
entitled; revenge that is pussy, the most tender, pure, sweet-tasting pussy you will ever taste in your
life. In his dialogue with Rucifer, the two intimate lovers consider countless ideas, contemplating
strategy back and forth. Somehow a way will be found and eventually a day of explosive
emancipation will scream into view. Rucifer has told Angelico not to worry, that day is near him
now. From his solitary confinement cell Angelico's ego holds the minds of most of the prison
guards and officers of Latremouille Correctional Facility in the clutches of his vice-like talons. With
the attack on Vancouver, the country of Canada and its government, like a brick thrown off a pier,
sank into a state of chaos. Ted Angelico sees in chaos not disaster, but a kaleidoscope of
opportunity. When rising from the underworld to the pinnacle of power as overlord of the nation's
communications networks, chaos had always been perfect weather for this megalomaniac, the
patient Ted Angelico, to prosper and advance.
Officer Marty Eastcott clocks in for his overnight shift thinking about his problem. His iguana
problem. Last night the iguana family made another appearance while he was sitting on his porch.
Big, fat, green, juicy iguanas. The first one stuck its head out the garage, looked around with its
midnight eyes, its flicking tongue, its tail whipping, looked right at Eastcott, and when it saw
Eastcott wasn't a threat it slid out onto his lawn, lazily rolled over a couple of times and humped
into the bushes. Counted seven of them in total. The lead iguana led the way like it owned the
place and six big fat Godzilla's followed behind it. Can't trap them; can't kill them. They're
protected under Canadian law. Poison, traps aren't found at your local department store so you
can't use those inventions, and exterminators are forbidden from touching them. Unless a humane
way of making them move on is found Eastcott'll have to continue living with these borders who
don't pay rent or property tax. Those goddamn iguanas seem to know they're protected too.
Eastcott considers an iguana predator perhaps, the introduction of a fatal enemy. Who hunts
iguana? He'll find a way.
Walking to unit 15 to relieve McAffer from his shift, a thought-line entering Eastcott's thinking
process, pushing out the iguana problem, urging him to visit Angelico at the first safe opportunity
didn't seem to him as odd. He would obey the thought as he had many times before. There was
no reason not to. It was his decision, wasn't it? No, he admitted to himself, he wasn't sure,
perhaps it wasn't his decision after all. An admirer of the hierarchy of the criminals under his
watch, Eastcott savoured any opportunity for an encounter with the facility's star inmate; Angel's
hypnotic charm, his accomplishments, his presence in the media and his position as an organized
crime boss fascinated him.
Two hours later Eastcott stands as a barricade in the cell doorway listening to Angelico talk, lying on
his bed with an arm behind his head. His over-shirt is removed, sharply folded on his table
alongside his eyeglasses and a notepad and pen. He wears a white T-shirt tight to his toned body,
red pants and white sneakers with Velcro fasteners, no laces. Angelico bites into a fresh peach -
synthetic of course - the glistening, sweet juice dribbling down his chin onto his shirt.
"Your safely in your home, lying in the tub, completely naked, reading Edgar Allan Poe's 'Tell Tale
Heart'," Angelico says, his tone relaxed, wiping nectar from his face, "when suddenly an apparatus
appears from above, it tears your roof off like nothing and hoists you into its grip and sends you
careening up into the heavens like a sling shot. You can fly! You're a bird, an eagle, soaring
through the sky for miles and miles. Then you come down, you land. What do you do next, East?"
"Where did I land?" Eastcott asks.
"Say, Montreal," Angelico answers. "Downtown Montreal."
"In Montreal? What's in Montreal?"
Angelico himself thinks about it and Notre-Dame Basilica, the great church, first enters his mind.
"Grab something to eat then go to the top of the Space Needle. I don't know what I'd do," Eastcott
answers.
"Ever had the sole of your shoe come off when you're in public? Clackety-clack as you walk, the
sole dragging and flapping along the ground, you're cursing the son of a bitch who sold you the thing
and all you can think is what to do about it. Do you go to your electrocar and retrieve another pair
of shoes from home? Do you find a shoe store, praying there's one nearby, and buy some new
ones? Your universe is that goddamn broken shoe. Well, if you're bare-ass naked in the middle of
downtown Montreal your number one priority is to find a place to hide and get some clothes. A
naked person stands out anywhere. Then you have to find a way to get back home."
"You've got all the answers, Angelico."
"Yaleton's extended the order to restrict my diet," Angelico tells Eastcott.
"How do you know?"
"McAffer was on duty this morning, he told me."
"Don't worry," Eastcott assures him. "I'll bring fresh fruit, just how you like it."
"Petty bastard that Yaleton. What's the reason?"
"They say you're still running your conglomerate from this room. Even though the prison
authorities claim your special powers are contained and rendered impotent, they can't neutralize
you. Is that true?" Eastcott asks.
"Do you believe it's true, East?"
"Show me what you can do."
"I don't need to show or prove anything to you, to anyone," Angelico says in his defence,
swallowing the two contraband high dosage RV-17 pills the guard has smuggled in. The RV-17 will
help alleviate the skyheat pain used to oppress and control him. "Don't toy with me. We both
know what I am. What I'm capable of. I'm not a mafia boss like you think I am. When a
businessman has the influence I have, he enters the realm of a god. A level where a tripwire is
triggered and you notice the government looking at you. So they make it look like I'm the head of a
criminal enterprise, a dictator, instead of a director, running an illegal monopoly, but it's purely
business. When I say march, my army dons its uniform and entire regions are occupied, geographic
areas instantly become mine. It's a fact. Events take place. My soldiers number in the millions
across this great country. They march for me beautifully. I'm heard internationally. I'm that
twenty-four hour radio show everyone is forced to listen to, even locked up in here, in this room.
My dreams and nightmares are on display like a peep show. Putting a man like me in prison
destroys the balance; my crisis becomes everyone's crisis, my pain is your pain. That business on
the west coast..."
"It's a dead city, no people left."
"Never humiliate your enemy, never wash his face in his own feces, unless you are absolutely
confident he will not be ever able to get up again."
"Are you saying you had something to do with that?"
"When you take the sun away, the absence of light, the darkness, is felt by all." A surge of
emotion, an anger, wells in Angelico. He says, "I tell you, those of us who have been kicked in the
teeth by this government, stomped on when we were down -" Angelico's anger causes him to
search for the right words. He says, "Good God, East, should the power ever shift our way, and it
will, the rulers in office had better watch out. We will show them the equivalent mercy that was
shown us."
Eastcott looks at the now silent Angelico. He feels pressure mounting on the inside of his skull and
an October wind gust of prickly cold fear cuts into his body.
"Yes. Access for your soldiers is confirmed for five a.m.," Eastcott says in response to no verbal
query from Angelico.
Don't speak your responses, East. Think them to me, Angelico instructs the novice telepath.
Angelico nods and shifts his position on the bunk, lying on his side, his fist on his cheek.
You have promised me and the other guards who cooperate $800,000 each once you are out of
here - Eastcott's thought is cut off.
Angelico shakes his head to indicate No.
You don't intend to escape tomorrow? Eastcott asks.
Angelico answers, Why would I want to leave a castle like this. Latremouille is fortified and
shielded. This fortress will be my headquarters, East.
What about our money, how will we get it?
Angelico tells him the payments will be wired to their bank accounts. We have the account numbers.
I would like to join your organization, I would like to continue working for you. Will you have a
role for me?
Eastcott listens and hears Teddy Angel's answer. The feeling of fear lifts. Verbally Eastcott says,
"God bless you, Mr. Angelico."
"East, your iguana problem-"
"Yes?"
"Don't get down on yourself. Talk to them. That's all it takes."
Eastcott nods and leaves. Angelico lies awake on his cot all night, dressed, waiting for the morning.
On edge, unable to suppress his anxiety, he periodically runs a fine tooth comb through his slick
black oily hair. At four he rises and anxiously peers out the cell door window and at five o'clock
Eastcott appears and inserts a card into the reader. The door swings open as expected.
"He's in here," Eastcott says to two men with him, armed with automatic rifles. Angelico knows the
men, they are two of the top Hammerstein lieutenants he has summoned for this strike, Gene
Mayenburg and Roland Jabs.
"It was only a matter of time before we were reunited," Angelico says to them joyously, tears
forming in his eyes, greeting each with hearty handshakes and hugs. "I can't tell you what this
moment means to me. How many are you?"
"There's ten of us. We're completing a sweep of the building," Mayenburg says, smiling and happy
to be serving the man at the very top once more. Maybe with Angelico free happiness can be had
for all like it was before he was imprisoned, Mayenburg silently hopes. Angelico represents our last
promise of prosperity. "The entire facility is under our control. Under your control, Mr. Angelico.
We have a change of clothes for you."
"Civilian clothes. Excellent."
"You must put this on right away," Mayenburg says, handing Angelico a belt with a holstered pistol,
a communicator and a pouch. "In that pouch is a mask that provides oxygen. There is a very
strong likelihood the prison was designed with a poison nerve gas defence that can be activated
from outside the prison in emergency lockdown situations."
Angelico straps on the tool belt. Mayenburg seizes Angelico's right hand and slaps a small container
into it. "Extreme dose RV-17. You can be damn sure they're going to try and incinerate us with all
the skyheat juice they can muster."
"Good, we're prepared," Angelico says. He asks Eastcott, "Who runs the kitchen in this place? We
eat. I want breakfast - bacon and eggs, French toast, fresh coffee."
Angelico steps out of the cell confines into the hall, crossing an imaginary border, his first step into
outlaw freedom.
"Mr. Angelico," Mayenburg asks, "what do you want to do with all the prisoners? We can't hold
them all on our own. Do we keep them locked up?"
"What do you think we do with them, Mayenburg?" Angelico answers with a grin. "We release
them, man."
Angelico sits at a table in the middle of a cathedral-like range eating breakfast with Mayenburg,
Jabs, Barry Shockler and Irwin Dobbs. Eastcott acts as a liaison with the cook. They are
surrounded upwards by tiers and tiers of prison cells. The music of Franz Joseph Haydn plays on
the P.A. system.
"This breakfast is perfection, sweet perfection. Nailed," Angelico praises, pouring catsup on his
hash browns sautéed gold. "It appears the kitchen is with us." Angelico sits upright. He lays his
utensils, his knife and fork, on the table and says, "By God, I don't want to eat this, I feel it should
be preserved. Blessed are the food preparers. I will want to meet with the chef later to speak to
him." Angelico resumes eating.
"Yes, it is good, Ted. The cook will be taken care of," Mayenburg says, placing a bite of fried egg,
sunny side up, into his mouth. "We have two SuperDragonfly electrochoppers on the roof of the
structure. The hogs are fully fuelled and under guard. We've got a unit up top ready to down any
corrector or military aircraft that comes within three miles of the airspace of this location without
our authorization."
"Good, very good," Angelico says, taking a bite of toast covered in gobs of raspberry jam.
"The jailers - jailed. The guards and officers are our prisoners. Most are with us, there's a handful
of dissenters. The hardheads are being held in unit 13. Even the ones cooperating with us, to the
outside they'll all look the same, they're all hostages. There's no reason to lead anyone to think
otherwise. Hence we will have collateral for maintaining our air supply line and to ensure our
power isn't cut. However, if they get stupid and pull the plug on our electricity we've brought in
fuel cells."
"You know what I need? Tabasco. I need hot sauce on these fried eggs," Angelico announces.
"Eastcott, find out if any Tabasco Sauce can be found."
Eastcott, once a prison guard, now an Angelico/Hammerstein soldier, makes a call to the kitchen.
"What's the duration of the charge on the cells?" Angelico asks.
"Three days. That's all we need. More than we need. Should you decide to pack up and move
out of here, we can be in Alaska in an hour." Doing a chord change on the subject, Mayenburg
says, "The west coast office was annihilated -"
"That's of no surprise," Angelico says, "I have been denied access to intravision and the grid since
my incarceration, but the guards have told me Vancouver was the target of a hellish firestorm of
open warfare. I touch a great void when attempting to feel our friends in the region."
"There's no Tabasco sauce in the prison," Eascott tells Angelico.
"Fuck. No Tabasco. Is there any hot sauce of any kind?"
"I'll have to ask the cook."
"Forget it." To Mayenburg Angelico asks, "What of Barron? Did he get out?"
Mayenburg shakes his head. "We've lost contact with him. Sykes as well. Both were interviewing
a man named Neil Jaggard, that's the last we heard of them. Then nothing."
With a look of bitter disappointment Angelico says, "They were both very, very capable. A
shame." Angelico wipes around his mouth with a paper napkin. "A shame, but I will not allow my
spirits to be dimmed. The government bastards unjustly shackled me with twenty-five years of
being shuttled from prison to prison, solitary unit to solitary unit like an animal. And today we've
smashed my life sentence for murder into three years of time served! We will celebrate our
success. I want liquor brought in, whiskey and beer. And I want a woman."
Shockler and Dobbs laugh out loud at this but quickly recognize the faux pas and put straight faces
on.
"All taken care of. We have women for you on the way," Mayenburg tells Angelico. "All taken
care of. Really though, I know you've been here a while, but is now the time to be-"
With an outburst of anger, Angelico slams the door on Maybenburg and says, "I'm not interested in
your playthings! One woman in particular I desire," he reveals firmly. "You are to locate her and
bring her to me. Tell me, the warden here, his name is Yaleton, is he cooperative?"
"Of course not," Shockler speaks up. "He says he answers only to Canadian government. He's
locked up."
"Only to Canadian government?" Angelico sneers, leaning back on the legs of his chair. "That same
government that jails us and steals our money? The Canadian government that hates us? I want to
see this man who will talk only to my enemy."
Ted Angelico, his belly filled with breakfast, sits and enjoys a cup of coffee while Shockler and
Dobbs are dispatched to fetch the warden of Latremouille Prison.
A news report pertaining to the Angelico prison insurrection appears on all the intravision screens
mounted in the large room. "Provide us with intravision audio," Jabs commands of Eastcott,
noticing the images. Eastcott aims his communications device at the viewscreen showing shots of
the facility from a distance. They hear this:
"A bold yet surprisingly controlled uprising occurred this morning at Latremouille Correctional
Facility near the city of Edmonton. Several guards have been taken hostage and it appears the
prison is no longer under the operation of the government. At around ten a.m. a large number of
prisoners were released, actually told they were free to go, and they were let out. Unconfirmed
sources tell us the leader of the uprising may be Ted Angelico. Angelico, known by his alias Teddy
Angel, was the top boss at Hammerstein Communications when he was convicted of killing a
business associate in 2015 and is serving a twenty-five year sentence for murder. We are told
electrochoppers containing armed intruders landed on the roof of the prison and managed to
penetrate the maximum security facility. Hammerstein is the parent company of this network."
The female reporter appears on screen. Brunette and pretty, she says, "I have with me one of the
prisoners set free from Latremouille Correctional this morning. Dale, not his real name, has agreed
to talk to us on the condition that his anonymity is maintained. Dale, can you describe for the
viewers what happened this morning in Latremouille Correctional..."
"We were locked down in the morning, kept in our cells until about 8 o'clock. Then the cells were
opened, one by one, and we were told today was Christmas and we were getting out, we were
sprung, we could go home."
"Who told you this, who opened up your jail cell and told you you were free to leave the prison?"
"A group of men with guns I had never seen before, and the guards."
"You're saying the prison guards were forced to assist these armed intruders in releasing inmates?"
"The prison guards helped to release us, but they weren't forced to."
"The guards were cooperating wilfully with these armed invaders?"
"That's what I said."
"Tell the viewers what you told me earlier about Ted Angelico."
"When I was in my cell before they let us out, I heard a voice, the voice said it was Angelico-"
"You heard this voice where? On the loudspeaker?"
"Everywhere. In the walls, in the door. In my own body, in my skull."
"It identified itself as Ted Angelico?"
"Yeah, and he said he was being held in the prison with us, in the 'shoe,' the special handling unit,
and that he was looking out for me and he had a precious gift for me. The gift of liberty..."
"Will you turn yourself in to the authorities? Do you feel you should?"
"No way, I'm innocent, baby! Wrongfully convicted!"
"I'm not asking whether you are guilty of the crime or crimes you've been sent to jail for, whatever
they may be. The fact is, you were a prisoner of the state and the state still sees you as a convict
with a sentence to carry through. They're going to come looking for you. Will you surrender
yourself to them?"
"Oh yeah, of course I will," Dale says with a laugh. "It's the right thing to do! Long live Ted
Angelico! Viva Teddy Angel, baby!"
"Thank you, Eastcott," Jabs says, motioning for him to mute the sound.
"So, news travels fast, very fast," Angelico says, pleased.
"There will be many happy people in the country tonight having heard the news of our punch,"
Mayenburg says. "Our uprising is a signal to the people, they will be encouraged and inspired to
stage advances of their own."
"The news has pictures of dancing in the streets and celebrations in your honour," Jabs adds. "I'm
told there will be a magnificent fireworks display on the moon for you. The greatest honour of all
for a man today. A lunar fireworks show that can be seen by half the people on the planet."
The main door to the range burps and whirrs and slides open. Shockler and Dobbs enter with the
prison warden between them. They bring Yaleton to the seated Angelico, the table separating them.
"What took you so long?" Angelico asks the men.
"Yaleton is a stubborn mule, he refused to come with us," answers Shockler.
"And you call yourself a warden," Angelico says to Yaleton. "Have a seat."
"I'd rather stand," Yaleton answers curtly.
Angelico does a cursory mind-scan on Yaleton. A blockhead, he quickly feels. He'll be a tough bull
to turn. He places a thought-line into Yaleton's mind compelling him to want to seat himself. I
want to sit down, Angelico inserts within the warden's brain, and Yaleton does want to sit. Angelico
observes him look at the chair and shift himself uncomfortably, however he doesn't seat himself.
"I've heard your name often enough in here," Angelico says. "We've never actually met."
"I rarely have any direct contact with my prisoners. That's why we employ officers and guards. I
have nothing more to say to you."
"You don't want to speak with me. Why is that? I know why it is. You think you're morally
superior to me, above me, you believe you're a better man than I am."
"Angelico, you flatter me with your interest. But really, why do you give a damn what I think?"
"What is it about me that you dislike that you can't deal with me man to man, in an honourable
way?"
"Honourable?" Yaleton laughs. "You're a bloody criminal. You abused the power the almighty
bestowed on you to brainwash my boys and stage a riot in my prison. My men will never help you."
"Your men aren't yours anymore, Yaleton, their mine," Angelico tells the warden, his voice sinking
in register. "You don't want the blood of your officers painting these walls, nor do I. It's your duty
as an agent of the government to avoid unnecessary violence of any kind. A partnership, yes, a
partnership. A partnership can be struck between us, that way spilled blood can be avoided. There
are things we are going to require during our stay here at the Edmonton Travel Lodge. You, being
the captain of this ship, your assistance in steering her could make our time together frictionless. I
don't need you that bad, but we're willing to extend an offer. A substantial cash pay-"
Yaleton interrupts Angelico, "It's Ted?"
Angelico nods.
"It is quite unnecessary for me to know what crime or crimes my inmates have been sentenced for
to maintain the order in my prison, to do my job properly, efficiently, as assigned by the people of
this country. I've never needed to know, never have," Yaletown says. "Seem to recall you're in for
- what is it? Murder? You murdered a man you worked with, a co-worker at the office, is that
right?"
"Let me tell you, he was no co-worker. It was self defence."
"How was it self defence?"
Looking amusingly at his men, Angelico says, "I had to defend myself - and my corporation -
against an insect, who happened to be a corporate accountant. He was losing me a lot of money."
Angelico laughs at his wit and his men laugh out loud with him. SPLAT! A well-aimed shower of
mouth-stew spews out of Yaleton like a geyser onto Angelico, he must have been storing up snot
and spit for hours, he hits Angelico with a stinging spray of mucous and saliva right into his face,
searing right into his eyes. He might as well have punched the surprised Angelico in the nose.
Angelico almost falls out of his chair.
Yaleton hisses, his voice raised, "I spit on you and on your mother's grave, Angelico. Your father's
too. A family that would spawn a creature such as you should never have been allowed to breed.
You'll get no help from me. A worthless deviant like you?" Yaleton tucks the belly of his shirt into
his pants. "Never."
Shockler and Dobbs rush forward and grab hold of Yaleton, tight by his arms. Angelico wipes
Yaleton's fluids off his face with his sleeve and listens.
"When I look at you I don't see a man," Yaleton continues with a growl, "I see a slimy sewer eel
that walks and talks like a man. You think you've won but you don't even have the intellect to
realize you'll never leave these prison walls, your sense of freedom is only an illusion, your sentence
of life continues, it is being carried out before our eyes. A prisoner is all you've been since you
were sent to jail and all you can hope for now is that the system goes easy on you when you're
taken down. It won't. And neither will the prison officials shadowing you to the grave. You're a
condemned man, more now than ever. Even you know it."
"Neither me, nor my men, need to be demoralized with those kind of false words," a seething
Angelico says to Yaleton.
Angelico had hoped to come to an arrangement with Yaleton. He didn't have to bring him in, the
train rolls whether he gets on board or not. He knew any arrangement, if possible, would be
difficult to reach. That possibility is completely lost. This meeting is counterproductive to his goals.
Now he sees only seething, painful red. His ego and pride dented with a sledgehammer, Angelico's
mind goes into a quick burn. This insolence is of the fatal variety. Yaleton easily slid into the
number one position on his slaughter-list.
Eastcott hands Angelico a white towel and he wipes the saliva out of his eyes again. He says to
Yaleton, "You better not have caught any diseases from your boyfriends in here."
The men in the room watch, including Yaleton, to see what Angelico will do. He thinks for a
moment then says to all in the hall, "It seems to me our Mr. Yaleton here is a sick man, very, very
ill. He needs immediate medical attention. Surgery of course." Angelico dabs his eyes with the
towel. His gaze drifts slowly, cruelly, to Shockler then back to Yaleton. He taps his own belly with
his fingers and says, "You've got a gall bladder problem, you spew too much bile, you're filling this
room up with your bile. Shockler, you take our patient down to unit 13 and have Doctor Dobbs
stick a knife into his gut and extract his gall bladder. Demonstrate to the others in lockup the fine
medical attention we provide those in need. You have no idea how sick you are, Yaleton."
"Your crazy!" Yaleton yells. Shockler and Dobbs pull Yaleton, struggling to lunge at Angelico,
away from him. "It's the other way round, you're the sick one here! Not me! You! I've got the
backing of the Canadian government here, pal!"
"Dobbs, be sure to take the scenic route with Yaleton's Caesarean," Angelico intones.
Shockler nods and Dobbs turns around escorting Yaleton away. When the range door opens
Angelico commands, "The minute you get any shit from Yaleton's boys in lockup unit 13, you kill
him. Get him the fuck outta here."
All is quiet in the large room. Angelico's heavy voice cuts into the silence. "Anyone got a smoke?"
he asks.
Mayenburg strides towards Angelico and offers a cigarette. Angelico takes one, Mayenburg lights
him up.
Jabs says, "Mr. Angelico, if you are ready, I am happy to show you to the communications centre."
To: Warden Yaleton's Office
From: Officer McAffer
Date: April 1, 2018
RE: Electrochopper Sighting.
On Friday, March 31, 2018, between 3:04 a.m. and 3:14 a.m. I observed a
black electrochopper fly into the airspace of Latremouille Correctional
Facility and buzz the prison. The aircraft hovered above the forested
areas north of the prison then descended to the road running parallel
to the fenced yard that is now deserted because we don't allow the
inmates out any more. The electrochopper slowly creeped parallel
alongside the fence, mere feet away from the structure, as though some
kind of training exercise were being conducted. The chopper then
ascended, and at one point it threatened to land on the roof of the
prison. I was unable to see any identification markings on the
chopper. It looked to me like a SuperDragonfly Electrochopper. The
incident lasted about ten minutes. I have not contacted any authority
outside Latremouille with respect to this occurrence. It is my
assumption this electrochopper could only have been one of ours.
MEMO
TO: Officer McAffer
FROM: Officer Takahashi for Warden Yaleton
DATE: June 21, 2018
RE: Electrochopper Sighting.
I have concluded my investigation into your March 31, 2018 sighting of
an electrochopper operating within the bounds of prison property. I am
now at liberty to reply.
The arrival of the aircraft, if there in fact was one, was not
authorized by Latremouille Correctional Facility. However, if the
incident did occur as you claim, it is a "trespassing" matter, one that
is governed by the appropriate regulatory authority, not by
Latremouille Correctional Facility. It is not within our jurisdiction
to pursue the issue.
As such the matter is now closed.
MEMO
To: Officer Takahashi for Warden Yaleton
From: Officer McAffer
Date: June 25, 2018
RE: Electrochopper Sighting.
You have informed me that the occurrence of a SuperDragonfly
Electrochopper trespassing within the bounds of the prison is not a
matter that is governed by prison security. Does this mean if I see
another electrochopper incursion, the incident should not be reported
to the warden's office?
MEMO
TO: Officer McAffer
FROM Officer Takahashi for Warden Yaleton
DATE: November 13, 2018
RE: Electrochopper Sighting.
I have received your June 25, 2018 memo requesting clarification
regarding procedure when an unauthorized aircraft enters the area of
Latremouille. As previously stated, any such activity does not fall
within the jurisdiction of our security personnel.
Further, unless the matters you bring to the attention of the warden's
office are fresh in nature, we will not be responding to you in the
future. Do not attempt to call the office or access it in person.
Please keep this in mind and refrain from recycling this electrochopper
complaint over and over.
The matter is closed.
MEMO
TO: Officer Takahashi for Warden Yaleton
FROM: Officer McAffer
DATE: November 18, 2018
RE: Electrochopper Sighting.
You have stated that you will only respond to my memos if the incident
I report is "fresh." Please provide me with your definition of "fresh"
so from now on I am able to filter out any activity that does not fall
into that category.
"ANGELICO!" the clown shouts. "GET THE FUCK UP! NOW! INSPECTION!"
Ted Angelico, the man they call Teddy Angel, gets up from his bunk and slowly walks to his
position outside the door where he stands and waits while the clown conducts the daily cell
inspection. The drill is routine, only Bozo's name changes. Today it's McAffer. McAffer
scrutinizes the room. When he gets to the toilet he stares at it. And stares at it. It's spotless.
Angelico wonders if McAffer is impressed.
"This shitter is fuckin' rancid. What kind of a statement are trying to make here, huh? Why didn't
you clean it?"
"I did clean it. Not to your satisfaction?"
McAffer leers at Angelcio then looks back at the toilet. Finally he says, "You did not clean this
fuckin' toilet."
Angelico bristles, not accustomed to being called a liar to his face, but he takes it cold; Yaleton's
boy McAffer, unaware of Angelico's exalted status, has a hostile head, difficult to penetrate, not his
fault.
"You are pushing my limits, monkey man," McAffer says. "I've got a ticket in my pocket with your
name on it for thirty days of lockdown. I am about to lock you down for a month! Is that what
you want? To be locked down for a month?"
McAffer looks away from Angelico and peers at the floor around the toilet boil. "Look, down here,
on the floor, your shit and piss is everywhere...are you even using this goddamn thing?"
Angelico steps over to the toilet in the corner of the cell and looks. He sees nothing.
"Go get a mop and scrub this fuckin' toilet clean. Let's go."
Shadowing Angelico down the hall of the solitary confinement unit, McAffer growls, "Not fast
enough. Move it! Step up the pace or you've got a month's lockdown coming."
Angelico wheels the bucket by the mop handle to the sink and fills it up with scalding hot water and
detergent then returns to his cell and mops around the base of the toilet, McAffer watching every
movement.
Glaring, McAffer says, "Angelico, this prison is my home and you're shittin' and urinating all over it.
I will not allow you to sully my home. I'll be back in five minutes to resume this inspection. And
I've got bad news for you, fella. Yaleton's extended the directive to restrict your diet. You'll eat
nothing but rice and cold beans for another six months. No coffee, no tea, water only. And no
library access."
Ted Angelico takes his orders from the sovereign lord of the bitterly black, cynical abyss. And all
his god demands is that Teddy Angel execute his revenge, the succulent revenge to which he is
entitled; revenge that is pussy, the most tender, pure, sweet-tasting pussy you will ever taste in your
life. In his dialogue with Rucifer, the two intimate lovers consider countless ideas, contemplating
strategy back and forth. Somehow a way will be found and eventually a day of explosive
emancipation will scream into view. Rucifer has told Angelico not to worry, that day is near him
now. From his solitary confinement cell Angelico's ego holds the minds of most of the prison
guards and officers of Latremouille Correctional Facility in the clutches of his vice-like talons. With
the attack on Vancouver, the country of Canada and its government, like a brick thrown off a pier,
sank into a state of chaos. Ted Angelico sees in chaos not disaster, but a kaleidoscope of
opportunity. When rising from the underworld to the pinnacle of power as overlord of the nation's
communications networks, chaos had always been perfect weather for this megalomaniac, the
patient Ted Angelico, to prosper and advance.
Officer Marty Eastcott clocks in for his overnight shift thinking about his problem. His iguana
problem. Last night the iguana family made another appearance while he was sitting on his porch.
Big, fat, green, juicy iguanas. The first one stuck its head out the garage, looked around with its
midnight eyes, its flicking tongue, its tail whipping, looked right at Eastcott, and when it saw
Eastcott wasn't a threat it slid out onto his lawn, lazily rolled over a couple of times and humped
into the bushes. Counted seven of them in total. The lead iguana led the way like it owned the
place and six big fat Godzilla's followed behind it. Can't trap them; can't kill them. They're
protected under Canadian law. Poison, traps aren't found at your local department store so you
can't use those inventions, and exterminators are forbidden from touching them. Unless a humane
way of making them move on is found Eastcott'll have to continue living with these borders who
don't pay rent or property tax. Those goddamn iguanas seem to know they're protected too.
Eastcott considers an iguana predator perhaps, the introduction of a fatal enemy. Who hunts
iguana? He'll find a way.
Walking to unit 15 to relieve McAffer from his shift, a thought-line entering Eastcott's thinking
process, pushing out the iguana problem, urging him to visit Angelico at the first safe opportunity
didn't seem to him as odd. He would obey the thought as he had many times before. There was
no reason not to. It was his decision, wasn't it? No, he admitted to himself, he wasn't sure,
perhaps it wasn't his decision after all. An admirer of the hierarchy of the criminals under his
watch, Eastcott savoured any opportunity for an encounter with the facility's star inmate; Angel's
hypnotic charm, his accomplishments, his presence in the media and his position as an organized
crime boss fascinated him.
Two hours later Eastcott stands as a barricade in the cell doorway listening to Angelico talk, lying on
his bed with an arm behind his head. His over-shirt is removed, sharply folded on his table
alongside his eyeglasses and a notepad and pen. He wears a white T-shirt tight to his toned body,
red pants and white sneakers with Velcro fasteners, no laces. Angelico bites into a fresh peach -
synthetic of course - the glistening, sweet juice dribbling down his chin onto his shirt.
"Your safely in your home, lying in the tub, completely naked, reading Edgar Allan Poe's 'Tell Tale
Heart'," Angelico says, his tone relaxed, wiping nectar from his face, "when suddenly an apparatus
appears from above, it tears your roof off like nothing and hoists you into its grip and sends you
careening up into the heavens like a sling shot. You can fly! You're a bird, an eagle, soaring
through the sky for miles and miles. Then you come down, you land. What do you do next, East?"
"Where did I land?" Eastcott asks.
"Say, Montreal," Angelico answers. "Downtown Montreal."
"In Montreal? What's in Montreal?"
Angelico himself thinks about it and Notre-Dame Basilica, the great church, first enters his mind.
"Grab something to eat then go to the top of the Space Needle. I don't know what I'd do," Eastcott
answers.
"Ever had the sole of your shoe come off when you're in public? Clackety-clack as you walk, the
sole dragging and flapping along the ground, you're cursing the son of a bitch who sold you the thing
and all you can think is what to do about it. Do you go to your electrocar and retrieve another pair
of shoes from home? Do you find a shoe store, praying there's one nearby, and buy some new
ones? Your universe is that goddamn broken shoe. Well, if you're bare-ass naked in the middle of
downtown Montreal your number one priority is to find a place to hide and get some clothes. A
naked person stands out anywhere. Then you have to find a way to get back home."
"You've got all the answers, Angelico."
"Yaleton's extended the order to restrict my diet," Angelico tells Eastcott.
"How do you know?"
"McAffer was on duty this morning, he told me."
"Don't worry," Eastcott assures him. "I'll bring fresh fruit, just how you like it."
"Petty bastard that Yaleton. What's the reason?"
"They say you're still running your conglomerate from this room. Even though the prison
authorities claim your special powers are contained and rendered impotent, they can't neutralize
you. Is that true?" Eastcott asks.
"Do you believe it's true, East?"
"Show me what you can do."
"I don't need to show or prove anything to you, to anyone," Angelico says in his defence,
swallowing the two contraband high dosage RV-17 pills the guard has smuggled in. The RV-17 will
help alleviate the skyheat pain used to oppress and control him. "Don't toy with me. We both
know what I am. What I'm capable of. I'm not a mafia boss like you think I am. When a
businessman has the influence I have, he enters the realm of a god. A level where a tripwire is
triggered and you notice the government looking at you. So they make it look like I'm the head of a
criminal enterprise, a dictator, instead of a director, running an illegal monopoly, but it's purely
business. When I say march, my army dons its uniform and entire regions are occupied, geographic
areas instantly become mine. It's a fact. Events take place. My soldiers number in the millions
across this great country. They march for me beautifully. I'm heard internationally. I'm that
twenty-four hour radio show everyone is forced to listen to, even locked up in here, in this room.
My dreams and nightmares are on display like a peep show. Putting a man like me in prison
destroys the balance; my crisis becomes everyone's crisis, my pain is your pain. That business on
the west coast..."
"It's a dead city, no people left."
"Never humiliate your enemy, never wash his face in his own feces, unless you are absolutely
confident he will not be ever able to get up again."
"Are you saying you had something to do with that?"
"When you take the sun away, the absence of light, the darkness, is felt by all." A surge of
emotion, an anger, wells in Angelico. He says, "I tell you, those of us who have been kicked in the
teeth by this government, stomped on when we were down -" Angelico's anger causes him to
search for the right words. He says, "Good God, East, should the power ever shift our way, and it
will, the rulers in office had better watch out. We will show them the equivalent mercy that was
shown us."
Eastcott looks at the now silent Angelico. He feels pressure mounting on the inside of his skull and
an October wind gust of prickly cold fear cuts into his body.
"Yes. Access for your soldiers is confirmed for five a.m.," Eastcott says in response to no verbal
query from Angelico.
Don't speak your responses, East. Think them to me, Angelico instructs the novice telepath.
Angelico nods and shifts his position on the bunk, lying on his side, his fist on his cheek.
You have promised me and the other guards who cooperate $800,000 each once you are out of
here - Eastcott's thought is cut off.
Angelico shakes his head to indicate No.
You don't intend to escape tomorrow? Eastcott asks.
Angelico answers, Why would I want to leave a castle like this. Latremouille is fortified and
shielded. This fortress will be my headquarters, East.
What about our money, how will we get it?
Angelico tells him the payments will be wired to their bank accounts. We have the account numbers.
I would like to join your organization, I would like to continue working for you. Will you have a
role for me?
Eastcott listens and hears Teddy Angel's answer. The feeling of fear lifts. Verbally Eastcott says,
"God bless you, Mr. Angelico."
"East, your iguana problem-"
"Yes?"
"Don't get down on yourself. Talk to them. That's all it takes."
Eastcott nods and leaves. Angelico lies awake on his cot all night, dressed, waiting for the morning.
On edge, unable to suppress his anxiety, he periodically runs a fine tooth comb through his slick
black oily hair. At four he rises and anxiously peers out the cell door window and at five o'clock
Eastcott appears and inserts a card into the reader. The door swings open as expected.
"He's in here," Eastcott says to two men with him, armed with automatic rifles. Angelico knows the
men, they are two of the top Hammerstein lieutenants he has summoned for this strike, Gene
Mayenburg and Roland Jabs.
"It was only a matter of time before we were reunited," Angelico says to them joyously, tears
forming in his eyes, greeting each with hearty handshakes and hugs. "I can't tell you what this
moment means to me. How many are you?"
"There's ten of us. We're completing a sweep of the building," Mayenburg says, smiling and happy
to be serving the man at the very top once more. Maybe with Angelico free happiness can be had
for all like it was before he was imprisoned, Mayenburg silently hopes. Angelico represents our last
promise of prosperity. "The entire facility is under our control. Under your control, Mr. Angelico.
We have a change of clothes for you."
"Civilian clothes. Excellent."
"You must put this on right away," Mayenburg says, handing Angelico a belt with a holstered pistol,
a communicator and a pouch. "In that pouch is a mask that provides oxygen. There is a very
strong likelihood the prison was designed with a poison nerve gas defence that can be activated
from outside the prison in emergency lockdown situations."
Angelico straps on the tool belt. Mayenburg seizes Angelico's right hand and slaps a small container
into it. "Extreme dose RV-17. You can be damn sure they're going to try and incinerate us with all
the skyheat juice they can muster."
"Good, we're prepared," Angelico says. He asks Eastcott, "Who runs the kitchen in this place? We
eat. I want breakfast - bacon and eggs, French toast, fresh coffee."
Angelico steps out of the cell confines into the hall, crossing an imaginary border, his first step into
outlaw freedom.
"Mr. Angelico," Mayenburg asks, "what do you want to do with all the prisoners? We can't hold
them all on our own. Do we keep them locked up?"
"What do you think we do with them, Mayenburg?" Angelico answers with a grin. "We release
them, man."
Angelico sits at a table in the middle of a cathedral-like range eating breakfast with Mayenburg,
Jabs, Barry Shockler and Irwin Dobbs. Eastcott acts as a liaison with the cook. They are
surrounded upwards by tiers and tiers of prison cells. The music of Franz Joseph Haydn plays on
the P.A. system.
"This breakfast is perfection, sweet perfection. Nailed," Angelico praises, pouring catsup on his
hash browns sautéed gold. "It appears the kitchen is with us." Angelico sits upright. He lays his
utensils, his knife and fork, on the table and says, "By God, I don't want to eat this, I feel it should
be preserved. Blessed are the food preparers. I will want to meet with the chef later to speak to
him." Angelico resumes eating.
"Yes, it is good, Ted. The cook will be taken care of," Mayenburg says, placing a bite of fried egg,
sunny side up, into his mouth. "We have two SuperDragonfly electrochoppers on the roof of the
structure. The hogs are fully fuelled and under guard. We've got a unit up top ready to down any
corrector or military aircraft that comes within three miles of the airspace of this location without
our authorization."
"Good, very good," Angelico says, taking a bite of toast covered in gobs of raspberry jam.
"The jailers - jailed. The guards and officers are our prisoners. Most are with us, there's a handful
of dissenters. The hardheads are being held in unit 13. Even the ones cooperating with us, to the
outside they'll all look the same, they're all hostages. There's no reason to lead anyone to think
otherwise. Hence we will have collateral for maintaining our air supply line and to ensure our
power isn't cut. However, if they get stupid and pull the plug on our electricity we've brought in
fuel cells."
"You know what I need? Tabasco. I need hot sauce on these fried eggs," Angelico announces.
"Eastcott, find out if any Tabasco Sauce can be found."
Eastcott, once a prison guard, now an Angelico/Hammerstein soldier, makes a call to the kitchen.
"What's the duration of the charge on the cells?" Angelico asks.
"Three days. That's all we need. More than we need. Should you decide to pack up and move
out of here, we can be in Alaska in an hour." Doing a chord change on the subject, Mayenburg
says, "The west coast office was annihilated -"
"That's of no surprise," Angelico says, "I have been denied access to intravision and the grid since
my incarceration, but the guards have told me Vancouver was the target of a hellish firestorm of
open warfare. I touch a great void when attempting to feel our friends in the region."
"There's no Tabasco sauce in the prison," Eascott tells Angelico.
"Fuck. No Tabasco. Is there any hot sauce of any kind?"
"I'll have to ask the cook."
"Forget it." To Mayenburg Angelico asks, "What of Barron? Did he get out?"
Mayenburg shakes his head. "We've lost contact with him. Sykes as well. Both were interviewing
a man named Neil Jaggard, that's the last we heard of them. Then nothing."
With a look of bitter disappointment Angelico says, "They were both very, very capable. A
shame." Angelico wipes around his mouth with a paper napkin. "A shame, but I will not allow my
spirits to be dimmed. The government bastards unjustly shackled me with twenty-five years of
being shuttled from prison to prison, solitary unit to solitary unit like an animal. And today we've
smashed my life sentence for murder into three years of time served! We will celebrate our
success. I want liquor brought in, whiskey and beer. And I want a woman."
Shockler and Dobbs laugh out loud at this but quickly recognize the faux pas and put straight faces
on.
"All taken care of. We have women for you on the way," Mayenburg tells Angelico. "All taken
care of. Really though, I know you've been here a while, but is now the time to be-"
With an outburst of anger, Angelico slams the door on Maybenburg and says, "I'm not interested in
your playthings! One woman in particular I desire," he reveals firmly. "You are to locate her and
bring her to me. Tell me, the warden here, his name is Yaleton, is he cooperative?"
"Of course not," Shockler speaks up. "He says he answers only to Canadian government. He's
locked up."
"Only to Canadian government?" Angelico sneers, leaning back on the legs of his chair. "That same
government that jails us and steals our money? The Canadian government that hates us? I want to
see this man who will talk only to my enemy."
Ted Angelico, his belly filled with breakfast, sits and enjoys a cup of coffee while Shockler and
Dobbs are dispatched to fetch the warden of Latremouille Prison.
A news report pertaining to the Angelico prison insurrection appears on all the intravision screens
mounted in the large room. "Provide us with intravision audio," Jabs commands of Eastcott,
noticing the images. Eastcott aims his communications device at the viewscreen showing shots of
the facility from a distance. They hear this:
"A bold yet surprisingly controlled uprising occurred this morning at Latremouille Correctional
Facility near the city of Edmonton. Several guards have been taken hostage and it appears the
prison is no longer under the operation of the government. At around ten a.m. a large number of
prisoners were released, actually told they were free to go, and they were let out. Unconfirmed
sources tell us the leader of the uprising may be Ted Angelico. Angelico, known by his alias Teddy
Angel, was the top boss at Hammerstein Communications when he was convicted of killing a
business associate in 2015 and is serving a twenty-five year sentence for murder. We are told
electrochoppers containing armed intruders landed on the roof of the prison and managed to
penetrate the maximum security facility. Hammerstein is the parent company of this network."
The female reporter appears on screen. Brunette and pretty, she says, "I have with me one of the
prisoners set free from Latremouille Correctional this morning. Dale, not his real name, has agreed
to talk to us on the condition that his anonymity is maintained. Dale, can you describe for the
viewers what happened this morning in Latremouille Correctional..."
"We were locked down in the morning, kept in our cells until about 8 o'clock. Then the cells were
opened, one by one, and we were told today was Christmas and we were getting out, we were
sprung, we could go home."
"Who told you this, who opened up your jail cell and told you you were free to leave the prison?"
"A group of men with guns I had never seen before, and the guards."
"You're saying the prison guards were forced to assist these armed intruders in releasing inmates?"
"The prison guards helped to release us, but they weren't forced to."
"The guards were cooperating wilfully with these armed invaders?"
"That's what I said."
"Tell the viewers what you told me earlier about Ted Angelico."
"When I was in my cell before they let us out, I heard a voice, the voice said it was Angelico-"
"You heard this voice where? On the loudspeaker?"
"Everywhere. In the walls, in the door. In my own body, in my skull."
"It identified itself as Ted Angelico?"
"Yeah, and he said he was being held in the prison with us, in the 'shoe,' the special handling unit,
and that he was looking out for me and he had a precious gift for me. The gift of liberty..."
"Will you turn yourself in to the authorities? Do you feel you should?"
"No way, I'm innocent, baby! Wrongfully convicted!"
"I'm not asking whether you are guilty of the crime or crimes you've been sent to jail for, whatever
they may be. The fact is, you were a prisoner of the state and the state still sees you as a convict
with a sentence to carry through. They're going to come looking for you. Will you surrender
yourself to them?"
"Oh yeah, of course I will," Dale says with a laugh. "It's the right thing to do! Long live Ted
Angelico! Viva Teddy Angel, baby!"
"Thank you, Eastcott," Jabs says, motioning for him to mute the sound.
"So, news travels fast, very fast," Angelico says, pleased.
"There will be many happy people in the country tonight having heard the news of our punch,"
Mayenburg says. "Our uprising is a signal to the people, they will be encouraged and inspired to
stage advances of their own."
"The news has pictures of dancing in the streets and celebrations in your honour," Jabs adds. "I'm
told there will be a magnificent fireworks display on the moon for you. The greatest honour of all
for a man today. A lunar fireworks show that can be seen by half the people on the planet."
The main door to the range burps and whirrs and slides open. Shockler and Dobbs enter with the
prison warden between them. They bring Yaleton to the seated Angelico, the table separating them.
"What took you so long?" Angelico asks the men.
"Yaleton is a stubborn mule, he refused to come with us," answers Shockler.
"And you call yourself a warden," Angelico says to Yaleton. "Have a seat."
"I'd rather stand," Yaleton answers curtly.
Angelico does a cursory mind-scan on Yaleton. A blockhead, he quickly feels. He'll be a tough bull
to turn. He places a thought-line into Yaleton's mind compelling him to want to seat himself. I
want to sit down, Angelico inserts within the warden's brain, and Yaleton does want to sit. Angelico
observes him look at the chair and shift himself uncomfortably, however he doesn't seat himself.
"I've heard your name often enough in here," Angelico says. "We've never actually met."
"I rarely have any direct contact with my prisoners. That's why we employ officers and guards. I
have nothing more to say to you."
"You don't want to speak with me. Why is that? I know why it is. You think you're morally
superior to me, above me, you believe you're a better man than I am."
"Angelico, you flatter me with your interest. But really, why do you give a damn what I think?"
"What is it about me that you dislike that you can't deal with me man to man, in an honourable
way?"
"Honourable?" Yaleton laughs. "You're a bloody criminal. You abused the power the almighty
bestowed on you to brainwash my boys and stage a riot in my prison. My men will never help you."
"Your men aren't yours anymore, Yaleton, their mine," Angelico tells the warden, his voice sinking
in register. "You don't want the blood of your officers painting these walls, nor do I. It's your duty
as an agent of the government to avoid unnecessary violence of any kind. A partnership, yes, a
partnership. A partnership can be struck between us, that way spilled blood can be avoided. There
are things we are going to require during our stay here at the Edmonton Travel Lodge. You, being
the captain of this ship, your assistance in steering her could make our time together frictionless. I
don't need you that bad, but we're willing to extend an offer. A substantial cash pay-"
Yaleton interrupts Angelico, "It's Ted?"
Angelico nods.
"It is quite unnecessary for me to know what crime or crimes my inmates have been sentenced for
to maintain the order in my prison, to do my job properly, efficiently, as assigned by the people of
this country. I've never needed to know, never have," Yaletown says. "Seem to recall you're in for
- what is it? Murder? You murdered a man you worked with, a co-worker at the office, is that
right?"
"Let me tell you, he was no co-worker. It was self defence."
"How was it self defence?"
Looking amusingly at his men, Angelico says, "I had to defend myself - and my corporation -
against an insect, who happened to be a corporate accountant. He was losing me a lot of money."
Angelico laughs at his wit and his men laugh out loud with him. SPLAT! A well-aimed shower of
mouth-stew spews out of Yaleton like a geyser onto Angelico, he must have been storing up snot
and spit for hours, he hits Angelico with a stinging spray of mucous and saliva right into his face,
searing right into his eyes. He might as well have punched the surprised Angelico in the nose.
Angelico almost falls out of his chair.
Yaleton hisses, his voice raised, "I spit on you and on your mother's grave, Angelico. Your father's
too. A family that would spawn a creature such as you should never have been allowed to breed.
You'll get no help from me. A worthless deviant like you?" Yaleton tucks the belly of his shirt into
his pants. "Never."
Shockler and Dobbs rush forward and grab hold of Yaleton, tight by his arms. Angelico wipes
Yaleton's fluids off his face with his sleeve and listens.
"When I look at you I don't see a man," Yaleton continues with a growl, "I see a slimy sewer eel
that walks and talks like a man. You think you've won but you don't even have the intellect to
realize you'll never leave these prison walls, your sense of freedom is only an illusion, your sentence
of life continues, it is being carried out before our eyes. A prisoner is all you've been since you
were sent to jail and all you can hope for now is that the system goes easy on you when you're
taken down. It won't. And neither will the prison officials shadowing you to the grave. You're a
condemned man, more now than ever. Even you know it."
"Neither me, nor my men, need to be demoralized with those kind of false words," a seething
Angelico says to Yaleton.
Angelico had hoped to come to an arrangement with Yaleton. He didn't have to bring him in, the
train rolls whether he gets on board or not. He knew any arrangement, if possible, would be
difficult to reach. That possibility is completely lost. This meeting is counterproductive to his goals.
Now he sees only seething, painful red. His ego and pride dented with a sledgehammer, Angelico's
mind goes into a quick burn. This insolence is of the fatal variety. Yaleton easily slid into the
number one position on his slaughter-list.
Eastcott hands Angelico a white towel and he wipes the saliva out of his eyes again. He says to
Yaleton, "You better not have caught any diseases from your boyfriends in here."
The men in the room watch, including Yaleton, to see what Angelico will do. He thinks for a
moment then says to all in the hall, "It seems to me our Mr. Yaleton here is a sick man, very, very
ill. He needs immediate medical attention. Surgery of course." Angelico dabs his eyes with the
towel. His gaze drifts slowly, cruelly, to Shockler then back to Yaleton. He taps his own belly with
his fingers and says, "You've got a gall bladder problem, you spew too much bile, you're filling this
room up with your bile. Shockler, you take our patient down to unit 13 and have Doctor Dobbs
stick a knife into his gut and extract his gall bladder. Demonstrate to the others in lockup the fine
medical attention we provide those in need. You have no idea how sick you are, Yaleton."
"Your crazy!" Yaleton yells. Shockler and Dobbs pull Yaleton, struggling to lunge at Angelico,
away from him. "It's the other way round, you're the sick one here! Not me! You! I've got the
backing of the Canadian government here, pal!"
"Dobbs, be sure to take the scenic route with Yaleton's Caesarean," Angelico intones.
Shockler nods and Dobbs turns around escorting Yaleton away. When the range door opens
Angelico commands, "The minute you get any shit from Yaleton's boys in lockup unit 13, you kill
him. Get him the fuck outta here."
All is quiet in the large room. Angelico's heavy voice cuts into the silence. "Anyone got a smoke?"
he asks.
Mayenburg strides towards Angelico and offers a cigarette. Angelico takes one, Mayenburg lights
him up.
Jabs says, "Mr. Angelico, if you are ready, I am happy to show you to the communications centre."
