50 Shades of Drake 3 and 4

Torn: Chapter Sixty-One

    The room was all-white. White walls, white floors. A long metal counter ran the length of the room. Above those counters were designated phone booths. Harry Palmer was escorted to one of the phone booths by a uniformed prison guard. He turned his head to watch the guard's retreating steps, then turned to the plexiglass window before him.

    A tall, thin man in an expensive suit sat on the other side of the plexiglass. His hair was dark, thinning in spots. His nose was a little too large for his face, and his eyes were a little too close together. He cleared his throat and reached for the old-fashioned telephone receiver.

    Palmer stared at him for several more minutes before picking up the telephone receiver on his end.

    "Our time to talk is limited. Every minute counts. I'm surprised you took so long to pick up."

    Palmer's eyes narrowed into slits.

    "You're angry with me for not winning those appeals," the man on the other side of the glass stated.

    "I made the mistake of thinking you were good at doing your job," Palmer said darkly. "It is a mistake I will not make again."

    "Then...why did you call me here?"

    Palmer glanced around him, then settled his eyes back on his lawyer. "There is a task I have for you, one that is nearly impossible to fuck up. Even for you."

    The lawyer frowned at the inmate's choice of words.

    "You couldn't win the appeals for me. What's done is done. That's in the past. I will be put on trial. There is only one way I can beat this trial."

    The lawyer scratched his head. "Which way are you referring to?"

    Palmer tapped chubby fingers against the plexiglass divider. "The witnesses...they're a problem."

    The lawyer glanced to his left, then his right. The family members and counsel for other inmates were seated near him at the counter, but they were too involved with their own conversations to pay attention to what Palmer was suggesting. The lawyer's eyes flicked over to the guards posted near the door. The guards didn't seem to be listening to conversations; they seemed to be on the lookout for other suspicious behavior. "So what you're saying is..."

    "That problems must be dealt with," Palmer said vaguely. "Yes. Get in touch with Rudy and Zaya. They will know what to do."

    "But are you sure-"

    "I'm sure," Palmer interrupted. "And when you get in touch with Rudy and Zaya..."

    "Yes?" the lawyer prompted.

    Malice flashed in Palmer's eyes. "Tell them to start with the girl."