As if on cue one inmate hit another inmate, sending him down with a bloodied nose. Another shot was fired. Whistles erupted, horns blared and a cluster of cons in the middle of the concrete playground bolted, screaming. Two guards who ran up to stop this human stampede were run over, their caps and billy clubs disappearing beneath the tidal wave of fleeing prisoners.

Hands closed around Stone’s and Knox’s wrists and they were pulled forward.

“Back to your cells, now!” barked a voice.

Stone’s gaze fell on the older guard, the one who’d nodded at him. He was pushing Knox and Stone toward one of the entrances into the prison.

As they passed a throng of prisoners standing there watching the melee, Knox spotted Donny, who was smiling and cheering on the fighters.

Knox sucker-punched him and old Donny boy, the killer of three kids, slid unconscious to the cold concrete lawn of Dead Rock.

“Now, that’s what I call accountability,” Knox muttered as he followed behind Stone.

Inside the building the guard herded them up a set of stairs and into a small room, where he closed the door.

“Turn around.”

They did so, a little hesitantly.

He quickly cuffed and shackled them, then spun them back around to face him.

“We don’t have much time. I was Josh Coombs’ best friend. I heard you helped Willie.”

“I did. He’s dead now, I guess you heard. Bob too. Blown up.”

The guard nodded. “Any idea what’s going on?”

“Drugs.” Stone gave him the thirty-second version and ended with, “And Josh was murdered because he’d found out.”

“I kind of figured something like that. I’ve heard things, seen some weird stuff, but nothing I could prove. But I sure as hell know you two weren’t prison transfers.”

“How many guards think like you?”

“No more than two or three. The rest are in Tyree’s pocket.”

Knox said, “I’m with the CIA. My name is Joe Knox. I need you to contact a guy named Marshall Saunders and tell him where I am. His phone number is—” He broke off and stared at Stone. “You can tell him I’m alone,” Knox finished.

“I’m not going to let you do that,” said Stone.

“You don’t have a choice. That’s why I’m calling my buddy Marsh and not Hayes.”

“We both know Hayes. If he finds out you screwed him, your next stop will be a torture center in Afghanistan, and you won’t be the one doing the interrogating. So go back to your family. And finish your life on your terms, not his.”

“Oliver, do you know what he’s—”

Stone broke in, “I’ve always known. Some things never change.”

“Guys,” the guard said nervously. “Hurry the hell up.”