They all laughed and pushed each other around playfully.
“And jest what you intend to do, protect this queer screw?” the fat spitter asked incredulously and then stepped forward aggressively.
“No, nothing like that,” Tommy replied. “I intend to disassemble you pieces of shit and then flush you down the toilet. If he should get away in the fracas, then good for him,” Tommy smiled, feeling himself center and prepare mentally for battle.
“Why do you want to get hurt over a fag screw?” the spitter continued, as he approached Tommy and stopped two feet in front of him.
“I don’t like shit. And you are shit. So, if you don’t like that, go for your gun,” Tommy laughed watching the spitter’s face turn a bright red, and then go to crimson.
“Bobby Joe, you cain’t let him talk to you like ‘at! Smash ‘im!” one of the others said.
That was just the prompting Bobby needed. He exploded like a firecracker and was then on the floor broken and moaning just as fast. He rolled from side to side in his pain.
“Next?” Tommy said, looking up at the other five.
“Man, Billy Ray. I don’t know. I ain’t never seen no body move like ‘at! Look at Bobby Joe. He’s hurt bad!”
“Shut up Jimmy. This fag bitch protector jus’ got lucky! Everyone jump ‘im at once! See how lucky he is, then!” Billy smiled, looking around at his pals.
They all launched at once, as an uncoordinated mass of flying arms and fists. Their assault lasted less than a minute, then they were all in the same misery land Billy Joe was rolling around in.
“You’d better call the medics, Clark, or the plumbers. Whoever takes care of pieces of shit like this,” Tommy said, turning to his door, entering and closing it behind him.
Clark stood, stunned into silence. In her entire life, she had never seen anyone move like Tommy, except in the movies where everything was choreographed. She thought some of these guys may not live. Two of them bled profusely from their mouths and noses. Two more had broken legs and wrists. Fat Boy Spitter was still convulsing on the floor struggling to breathe. Clark took her radio from its holster and called for backup in a stunned wondering voice.
“Clark to Control?” she said, as if half asleep. “Corridor four south. Six inmates down. I need medical staff, meat wagons and orderlies to clean up the mess. Over?”
“Copy Clark. Out,” the voice from Control replied instantly.
Two minutes later the crowd arrived. Back up guards first, medical staff second, and orderlies third.
“Jesus Christ! What happened to these guys? They get hit by a truck?”
“I’m not sure.” was all Clark could say.
She waited around while the orderlies finished cleaning up the blood and urine. When they left she went to Tommy’s door and knocked.
“Come in,” she heard Tommy say.
She went in quickly and closed the door behind her. Tommy was in the shower. Clean clothes lay across the bed. It had been made neatly, the pillows fluffed.
She locked the door behind her, stripped her clothes off and stepped into the shower.
“Hey, Clark! I said I wasn’t interested. Get out!” Tommy said, his back to her.
She brushed her breasts against his back. “Are you interested now?” she asked, placing her hands on his hips and brushing her nipples against his muscular back once again.
Tommy turned around cautiously and looked her in the eyes. Then, slowly cautiously, his eyes drifted down her body. He began to grow hard quickly.
She kissed him softly, then began to kiss down his body until she was on her knees. She took him into her mouth and then into her throat. Her mouth hot and fluid, Tommy exploded. She moaned her dissatisfaction. Withdrew, swallowed, then stood.
“That was disappointing,” she whispered softly, kissing his chest.
“It’s been a while. A long while,” he said. “But the day is young, yet,” he added.
“Then we best get busy. I can’t stay long. I’ll be missed,” she said against his chest, hugging him tightly.
“You sort of had me fooled.”
“We thought it best. For all of us. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t ever deceive me again. I don’t like deception.”
“I won’t. I promise,” she replied, then turned and stepped out of the shower. He followed her and began drying her body off. He paid particular attention to what he was doing. She had the body of a Venus and he began to worship at her alter after he lay her back across the bed. He grew rigid and time vanished for them both in wave upon wave of passion, as they fed from each other.
* * * * *
Fifteen hundred miles away along the Pacific seaboard a similar scene was being played out; however, this one was homosexual in nature.
Retired General Hawk was being mounted by a young, well muscled and endowed, blond Adonis. Hawk was bound belly up to a large coffee table. He was gagged and blindfolded. He wore a tuxedo collar around his neck and on each lapel was a single silver star.
Young Adonis was riding high in the saddle. Hawk’s feet bounced up and down on the floor as he power drove into the descending body astride him. His hips bucked up and down as he mirrored his rider’s moves.
They were on the home stretch, heading for the finish line when Hawk’s computer began to spit out a fax. A chime also sounded announcing he had email.
Hawk and his Adonis never heard the chime; they were racing across the finish line. It would be their last race in the lap of luxury. A bombshell had just landed and it would change both their lives forever and leave them to wonder, worry and jump at every bump in the night.
* * * * *
In Pakistan at the Clean Sweep Corporation headquarters, a similar fax was unrolling in the office of the president and CEO, Niles Cramer. It was 3:30 A.M. and a change began to occur in the atmosphere of the building. Though no one was present to witness it, it would have devastating repercussions on the lives of the many employees around the globe. Especially on that of the President and CEO, Niles Cramer, who at that time, was at home snuggled tightly between two barely legal, under Pakistani law, lovers. One male, the other female, which he had adopted for his personal pleasure and entertainment.
Down the hallway his head of home security was introducing two more ‘lovers in waiting’ to the pleasures, wants, desires and needs of their new master. They were proving to be reluctant learners and needed his special kind of discipline.
He heard the tone of the fax machine in the office next door as it announced and began to spit out the incoming message, even over the sobs of his reluctant and weary students. It was his job to hear and handle the things that went bump in the night in his Master’s house. His very life depended upon it. He reluctantly left his students and went to retrieve and read his Master’s fax and deliver it to him.
Unknown to him, it would be his last delivery. His Master hated bad news no matter whom or how it was delivered.
In Tahlequah, Oklahoma, Judge Ryan turned off his computer. It was time for Angela. He smiled as he rose from his chair and went down the hallway to his bedroom where his wife awaited him under the sheets.
Chapter 7
From the moment he received the phone call from the Governor, John Chambers, Associate Warden at the Connors Unit of the Oklahoma Department of Corrections in Hominy, Oklahoma, knew something was up. Something big! He also knew that he wanted to be a part of it. After all, he figured, if the Governor of the state took the time to call a nobody ‘Associate Warden’ for a face to face interview, something big had to be in the offing.
When the Governor had offered him the head Warden position, with strings attached, he knew he was being offered a doorway to the ‘inside’. He intended to step through and close it behind him. John Chambers was not a fool!
When he found out the length of the strings reached from the Governor to Tommy Mistri he knew he was not being told the entire truth. So, he started doing a little investiga
tion of his own. After all, wasn’t he solely responsible for the safety and well being of Tommy Mistri?
At first his investigation led nowhere. All he had been able to discover was that the Governor was close friends with the sentencing judge. From there the trail went cold.
It seemed Judge Andrew Ryan had been a lawyer in Tulsa when the Governor had been elected. One of the Governor’s first acts was to appoint Ryan to the bench at Tahlequah, the County Seat of Cherokee County.
Why, Chambers wondered. There had to be a connection.
He began to search further and further into the two men’s backgrounds. He had hit paydirt four months into his search. He learned they had both been Blackhawk pilots in Iraq. At one point Ryan was pilot and Cartwright had been co-pilot. He learned that early in their tour they had been shot down by enemy fire. He had also learned that they had been surrounded, captured and rescued by a sniper named Tommy LeSade. From that point the mystery deepened. He could find nothing of the sniper, Tommy Lesade, after his being awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor and returning to Tahlequah, Oklahoma. His home town. And that’s where it ended for Tommy LeSade. He found absolutely nothing more on the young sniper after his return to Oklahoma. Ever. Tommy LeSade did not exist anywhere in any file, any government or military record. Tommy LeSade had become a complete mystery. Until last night.
Chambers had just finished making love to his wife. He had rolled over onto his back and was staring at the ceiling. Suddenly, Tommy LeSade came to mind. And in a flash of brilliance he had put two and two together and came up with a cool clear four.
Tommy LeSade was Tommy Mistri!
He had sat straight up in bed, thrown the blankets back and rushed to his computer terminal. He had been setting there ever since, searching madly for one single clue that would connect the two.
There were none. Tommy Mistri had been Tommy Mistri since the moment of his birth. At least according to all the records he had found so far. But, John Chambers was no one’s fool. He knew he was on the right track and all he had to do was to make the right move to hook it all together.
The clock at the top of his computer screen read six forty-five A.M. he had to get to the prison. He had to be there. He was the Warden!
He reluctantly closed down the computer and then switched it off. He would continue his search at his office. He had to find out the truth. Who knew, he could possibly become the next Governor of the state. If he played his cards right!
* * * * *
Tommy walked slowly, head down, around the perimeter of the prison yard. On his head he wore a black stocking cap. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his waist long winter coat. He was deep in thought.
For months now he had tried to figure a way to get into the warden’s office and the computer there. The problem was, no inmates were allowed past the visiting room unless summoned by the Warden himself. So far, it was like the Warden had no idea that Tommy was there.
Lisa Clark had been unable to help him. There was always other staff on duty in the front offices. Her arrival there with an ‘out of bounds’ inmate in tow would raise more questions than she could possibly answer. Therefore, Lisa was not his ticket to the front office. Besides that, other staff were watching him very closely since the incident outside his door with Bobby and his crew.
Clark swore to him that she had not said anything other than she had found the inmates on the floor in the condition they were in. So, that meant one of the six, if not all of them, had described their assailant. Of course they had conveniently left out the role they had played to bring such a calamity down upon their heads. Typical, Tommy thought as he continued to walk slowly, noticing an occasional snowflake float through the air and through his frosted winter breath.
He had gotten to know the ins and outs of prison life and the typical mentality of most of the prison elements, prisoners and staff alike. There were still several of the ‘old convict mentality’ inmates on the compound and he respected them for their stand and beliefs in clinging to the ‘old ways’. They were few and far between, but still around, because, Tommy had learned, that they kept to themselves, kept their mouths shut about what they saw, heard and did. They avoided the prison staff and they minded their own business. He had also learned they could carry a grudge until the time was right to correct the wrong with no witnesses and only one survivor.
Tommy had the ‘old convict’ mentality. He was born with it he supposed. He avoided the prison staff, with the exception of Clark. He stayed to himself, kept his mouth shut about what he did, saw and heard. He minded his own business and handled his problems on the spot. Most threats couldn’t wait for an opportune time to settle. He would rather face his enemies face to face. He didn’t believe in ambush. It wasn’t in his makeup.
Deep in thought as he passed a set of aluminum expandable bleachers on his left, his subconscious registered slight noises and stealthy movements as he walked past the end. The other end was about thirty feet away. He was about ten feet from the end of the bleachers when he heard movement behind him. He didn’t look up or check his pace. He waited to see what would happen.
“Hey, Bitch Boy! Word has it tole’roun’ that you a punk. Been fuckin’ a man staff. Or ‘tother way ‘roun. What up wit’ dat, huh?” the low, surly voice rasped behind him in a strong Cajun accent.
Tommy stopped, hesitated, then turned around to face his accuser.
He was large! Not muscle big. Just physically big! Tommy estimated he was at least seven feet tall. Maybe a little taller. He would probably weigh in at about three-hundred-fifty pounds, give or take twenty. His hands were the size of kayak paddles with fingers like long fat sausages.
Tommy had seen him around before, mostly in the dining room. He had noticed that all the inmates deferred to and waited on him. He had seen him, on several occasions, take food from weaker inmates as if by right. His nick name was Tie-Tie. He was reputed to be the most deadly man on the compound and had once crushed a man’s skull with one hand. It was also said that he was insane.
“What difference would it make to you?” Tommy asked in a level tone of voice.
“Well, Little Man. I like a lil’ hiney hole time ta time. ‘Especial ‘dem hot-ass red heads. Woo wee! ‘Dem is hot as cyanne peppeah, I’m told you, boy! Haa! ‘Dat him bitch you be tappin’ regular. ‘Im right smack up my alley! So, mebe I knock ‘im in his head and drive right up im’s alley! Plug ‘im up some, good, me, eeh?” he laughed evilly.
“Well Tie Tie, I’m real partial to that red head. So, I won’t be sharing him with you. So, what do you think about that? Huh?”
“Well, ‘den, Mister Mistri man. I see you heard ‘bout Tie Tie, the mad Cajun from Lous’iana bayou country, yeah? Well, Tie Tie gonna break you head good. Den’ Tie Tie gonna break you bitch up good, too. Wit’ ‘dis!” he grabbed his crotch shaking it at Tommy. “Tie Tie hung like man stallion, too!”
“That my mad Cajun friend will be real hard to do with a broken neck. Plus, being paralyzed from the neck down so nothing below your eyes works, won’t it, now?” Tommy mocked, smiling.
“Oh, you talk so mean to Tie Tie. Try ta scare ‘im up some, huh? Now, Tie Tie gotta try ‘im,” Tie Tie said, as he began to lumber forward slowly.
He assumed a wrestling stance, arms spread wide for grappling.
Tommy was not a grappler. He would not allow Tie Tie to grab him. The monster could undoubtedly hurt him seriously if he managed to get a hold on him somewhere. It would only take one hold, then he could pull Tommy into his massive arms. It may end quickly, or not. Definitely it would be very painful.
Tommy watched closely as Tie Tie approached. He was waiting for the giant to get into striking distance. When he knew the time was right, he stepped forward, slid under Tie Tie’s arms and snap kicked the monster in the knee cap. It was like kicking a tree trunk. Tommy spun on around his leg and came to his feet behind him. He snap kicked Tie Tie behind the knee. The big man’s knee buckled. He gr
unted and caught himself on his right hand as he went down.
Tommy did a spin kick. His foot connected with Tie Tie’s elbow and he heard it crack like a tree branch. As he continued to spin he stopped on his feet facing Tie Tie. He then snap kicked Tie Tie in the kidney, then the side of the head. Tie Tie reeled from the blow. He shook his head, stood up and turned around to face Tommy. He clenched his fists as his face clouded with rage and pain. He began to step forward. His knee collapsed under him.
Tommy attacked ruthlessly. He snap kicked Tie Tie to the face, just below the nose. Tie Tie’s head snapped back. Tommy kicked him again with a knife blade kick to the throat. Tie Tie began to choke. Blood began to boil from his mouth and run down his chin. His eyes rolled in his head and were unfocused. Tommy stepped forward, grasped Tie Tie by the hair above his forehead and tilted his head back. He drove the heel of his hand into the end of the big nose with all his strength and determination, putting every ounce of his weight behind it. He felt the bridge of the giant’s nose collapse and break away from the skull between his eyes and felt it enter the soft tissue of the brain. Tie Tie was dead before he hit the ground.
“Never threaten a friend of mine,” Tommy whispered to the departing spirit of Tie Tie, the mad cajun.
Loud cheering broke out around him. He had been so intent on the battle that he had failed to notice the gathering crowd. He turned to look around at them. He wondered why they would cheer a man’s death.
Three large staff members came from the crowd. As they approached they spread out and surrounded him. They were not a threat.
“Mister Mistri, Sir. You will have to come with us. Don’t worry, we heard and saw the whole thing. There won’t be any charges filed. It was self-defense. Plain and simple,” one of the staff members said. Tommy had seen him around before but had never heard his name.
“Then why do I have to go with you?”
“Because he may have had some friends. I doubt it. But, you never know in a place like this. Besides, Warden Chambers wants to see you in his office. He has some questions for you.
“That’s good. I need to see him, too.” Tommy smiled inwardly. The plan was coming together, maybe.
* * * * *