The Guardians(68)

Adam stands and bends at the waist, belches. “Excuse me,” he says and walks to the edge of the old playground where he begins retching. Frost and Thagard turn and look toward the road. Adam kneels behind a large bush and vomits loudly for a spell. When he’s finished he shuffles back and sits at the picnic table. His shirt is soaked with sweat, and his cheap brown tie is specked with his lunch.

“Okay,” he says hoarsely. “What’s the first order of business?”

Frost doesn’t hesitate. “Do either Lane or Drummik have a cell phone?”

“I know Drummik does. I took it to him.”

“Where did you get it?”

Adam hesitates before plunging in. When he says what he’s about to say, there is no turning back. “There’s a man named Mayhall, don’t know his first name, don’t know if Mayhall is real or fake, don’t know where he lives or where he comes from. I see him once or twice a month. He comes here with the goodies for his boys inside Garvin. Cell phones and dope, usually pills and meth, cheap drugs. I take the stuff in and deliver to the right people. He pays me a thousand bucks a month in cash, plus a little stash of dope to sell on my own. I’m not the only guard who does this. When you earn twelve an hour it’s hard to survive.”

Thagard says, “We get that. How many Aryan Deacons in Garvin?”

“Twenty-five or thirty. The Brotherhood has more.”

“How many guards service the Deacons?”

“I’m the only one I know of. Certain guards take care of certain groups. I doubt if Mayhall would want anyone else involved. He gets what he wants with me.”

“Has he served time?”

“I’m sure he has. You can’t join the Deacons unless you’re in prison.”

Frost asks, “Can you get Drummik’s cell phone?”

Adam shrugs and smiles as if he’s quite clever. “Sure. Cell phones are prized possessions and sometimes they get stolen. I’ll go to Drummik’s cell when he’s out on the yard, make it look like a theft.”

“How soon?” Thagard asks.

“Tomorrow.”

“Okay, do it. We’ll track his calls and we’ll give you a replacement.”

Frost asks, “Will this Mayhall character get suspicious if Drummik finds another phone?”

Adam thinks for a moment. Things are still not quite clear. He shakes his head and says, “I doubt it. These guys buy, sell, trade, steal, barter, you name it.”

Thagard leans down and sticks out a hand. “Okay, Adam, we got a deal, right?”

Adam reluctantly shakes his hand.

Frost says, “And your phones are tapped too, Adam. We’re monitoring everything, so no stupid moves, okay?”

They left him at the picnic table, staring into the distance and wondering how his life could change so fast.





Chapter 34



With the FBI throwing its weight around, Quincy is moved to a corner room that is more secure. Two surveillance cameras are mounted prominently above his door. The hospital staff is on high alert and its guards are more of a presence. The prison sends one over each day for a few hours of hallway monitoring, and Orlando police officers enjoy stopping by to flirt with the nurses.

Quincy’s condition improves each day and we slowly begin to believe that he will not die. I’m on a first-name basis with his doctors and staff by now and everybody is pulling for my client. He is as secure as possible, so I decide to hit the road. The place is driving me crazy. Who doesn’t hate sitting around a hospital? Savannah is five hours away and I’ve never been so homesick.

Somewhere around St. Augustine, Susan Ashley calls with the news that old Judge Jerry Plank has entered an order denying our petition for post-conviction relief. His decision is expected; the surprise is that he woke up long enough to do something. We were anticipating a wait of at least a year, but he disposed of it in two months. This is actually good news because it speeds along our appeal to the state supreme court. I don’t want to pull over and read his opinion, Susan Ashley says it’s very brief. A two-page order in which Plank says we provided no new evidence, in spite of the recantations from Zeke Huffey and Carrie Holland. Whatever. We were expecting to lose at the circuit court level. I cuss for a few minutes in traffic then settle down. There are times, many times, when I despise judges, especially blind ones and old ones and white ones, almost all of whom cut their teeth in prosecutors’ offices and have no sympathy for anyone accused of a crime. To them, everybody who is charged is guilty and needs time in jail. The system works beautifully and justice always prevails.

When my rant is over, I call Mazy as she’s reading the order. We discuss the appeal and she will drop everything and get it ready. When I arrive at the office late in the afternoon, she has a first draft prepared. We discuss it over coffee with Vicki and I tell stories about the events in Orlando.

Adam Stone made a clean swap with Jon Drummik’s phone. He took the old one as he ransacked the cell, and the following day handed a new one to Drummik. The FBI is scrambling to track old calls and listening to the new ones. They are confident that their targets will walk into the trap. They have no information on Mayhall, or at least none they can share with me, but they plan to watch him closely the next time he meets with Adam.

For three straight days before the attack on Quincy, Drummik called a cell phone in Delray Beach, north of Boca Raton. The day after the attack, he made only one call, to the same number. However, the trail ended when the number fizzled. It was a burner, a disposable phone with a thirty-day plan that was paid for by cash at a Best Buy store. Its owner is being very careful.