The Cage (Book 2)

Diplomatic Immunity

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Diplomatic Immunity

I tried not to show my disappointment when the door opened and it wasn't Schneider standing under its frame. But it was damned hard because a dull pain gripped my chest, suspiciously near my heart. I felt deflated, like a balloon emptied of air.

"Don't I at least get a hello?" Said Cade upon noticing my crestfallen face.

He looked different, so different it took me a second to recognize him. Cade had hair on his head. He was a redhead. There were dark bags under his eyes, like he hadn't slept in a long time. He was thinner, too. Still big, but I didn't suspect it was him while watching him barrel through the prison in the CCTV.

"What the hell are you doing?" I got straight to the point. For some reason, I felt a flare of anger burst through me. I wasn't entirely sure why I was pissed, but I let the emotion carry me, inflating me once again and wiping away the horrible alternative. It did not befit a prison boss to weep.

"Why are you here? Are you in trouble again?" Cade demanded, scanning the guards' room for any potential threats.

My spine went rigid. "I was. A long time ago. I got myself out of it. Where were you then?" I said, the memory of days and nights spent in solitary confinement coming back to me like a nightmare I barely got out of and still couldn't forget.

Cade eyed me in stupefied silence. He appeared to be unsure of what to do or say to me. That was a first.

"Julian..." he started to say. The sympathetic tone in his voice sliced me to the bone.

Furious, I growled vehemently, "Where the fuck were you? And where the fuck is Schneider?" I sensed Cherry taking a step back away from me.

Cade opened his mouth to reply, "He's-"

I heard the distinctive sound of a taser charging before Cade started spasming where he stood, his eyes rolling back into his skull, before he collapsed onto the ground, face first.

In his back were two darts connected to a black taser by thin wires delivering a powerful electric current. On the catwalk, a guard was standing holding the taser gun, looking startled that that had worked.

So much for getting an answer.

****

The guards were at a loss. They didn't know what to do with Cade, a convict who'd previously broken out of prison only to break back into it. Did the second crime cancel out the first?

Of course not, but I was in no mood to advise the guards freely, and quickly dismissed the one who came to me. "Ask the state lawyers," I told him grumpily, and turned my back on him.

All I needed was one more minute with Cade and I would've gotten the answers I wanted!

Bitter and disappointed, I slunk back to my cell and spent the whole day sulking.

Sitting on the upper bunk, I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall.

What was going on? What was Cade going to say? Why did he come back?

And where was Schneider?

Did something happen to him? Was that why Cade came back alone?

I opened my eyes and frowned. What a terrifying thought. It wasn't like this was the first time it was occuring to me in the past year and a half, but it was always just mere speculation. Now...

I sat in the same spot thinking, and then overthinking, for about two hours, until my back tired of the hard wall and my hip and knee hinges needed stretching.

Around six o'clock, when the cell doors opened allowing inmates to head to the cafeteria for their long-awaited dinner, a figure came to stand in front of my cell.

"Mr. Julian, sir." The soft, timid voice called to me, so out of place in this harsh place.

"Yeah, I'm here. Come in, Tom." I'd completely forgotten I was supposed to meet with him tonight.

Shaking my head for much-needed clarity, I pushed off the wall and dropped to the floor, ignoring my aching muscles.

My work table was always set up for any 'walk-in clients', right by the toilet. I pulled up a chair and sat in it, gesturing for Tom to take the opposite chair. He did, looking quite nervous. This was our second meeting.

"Now, where were we?" I pulled up Tom's dispositions from his file, laying them on the table.

I pushed everything to the back of my head, focusing on Tom's case of overturning his drug conviction. I could agonize over the state of my life later; God knew I had time, time and more time for that.

"So, you really think we can have my sentence overturned?" I heard hope in his voice and my stomach turned. I'd done this with over fifty other inmates in the last year, but every time without fail, my heart tightened at the possibility of failure. Of failing someone who depended on me.

"We wouldn't be sitting here if I didn't." I infused the statement with confidence, flashing him one of my trademark lawyer grins.

Tom smiled for the first time since I met him two months ago.

And so we deliberated for hours.

That was how I did it. That was how I rose up the ranks to become one of this wretched place's bosses. I had power of my own now, and I could protect myself. I'd proved myself valuable; an indispensable tool. Once word got out that I was helping wrongfully-convicted prisoners get out or at least lower their sentences, I became virtually untouchable. Suddenly every gang was looking out for me, everyone aiming to please me. I now had the best cell in Block C with not one, but two windows overlooking the backyard's grassy lawn.

I'd earned respect, and that here was like having diplomatic immunity.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

How long do you think Julian's immunity will last?

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