Hostile Borders Read Free

control room, Stevens pressed the button that electronically opened the door Pena was standing behind.
    â€œI’ve read enough,” Munson said, “to know that you won’t be doing much of anything for a while, other than rotting your life out behind bars. But that life might not be all that long. If the Feds don’t give you the death penalty for that DEA agent you killed, you’re still not off the hook. They’re going to turn you over to California as soon as they finish with you next month. Then the state of California will have its shot at you for killing that officer during your capture. And California has the death penalty, too. Somewhere down the line, they’re going to stick a needle in your arm. And the only way you can get out of it is to be as dead as your brother.”
    â€œThen I suppose I’ll have to leave your gracious hospitality before that happens,” Pena said coldly. “And my brother was killed because of a traitor we both believed was a friend. That is the person who will be punished for his crimes, not me.”
    â€œMove out for exercise, inmate,” Munson said roughly, and he stepped back so that Pena could go down the hall ahead of him.
    As they stepped up to the control room, both Munson and Pena stopped in front of the locked door leading to the elevator. Stevens pressed the button that unlocked the cell-side door. There was only room for a few people at a time to fit inside the cage into which the cell-side door opened. Only when the inside door was closed and secured could the outside door be opened. That kept any chance of a group of prisoners rushing the door pretty much at zero.
    As Stevens unlocked the outside door, he stood up and left the control room.
    â€œYou going with us?” Munson asked.
    â€œI want a smoke,” Stevens said. “Besides, there’s no one else even on the floor. There’s nothing for me to watch besides a bunch of empty cells.”
    â€œIt’s colder than hell out there,” Munson said. “You sure you need a cigarette that bad? You should stay in here in case something comes up.”
    â€œJust what could come up this early in the morning the day after Christmas?” Stevens said. “None of the other prisoners are going anywhere today, the courts aren’t open, and they’re not on our floor anyway. Besides, with the observation cameras being out of order in the exercise yard, we should be following the two-man rule.”
    Munson looked as if he was going to argue further about Stevens coming along for Pena’s exercise period. Then he shut his mouth and appeared to think better of it.
    â€œSuit yourself,” Munson said finally. “You’re probably right anyway.”
    Â 
    The elevator that the three men rode up to the roof was very limited in its travel. Besides the roof exercise area, the elevator could stop at all of the prisoner-holding floors, the mess hall floor, and the processing area down near the first floor of the building. The stairwells were all secured at each floor and were well covered with security cameras. Munson and Stevens knew they were under the watchful eyes of their fellow officers down in the main control area. At least they were being watched until they got to the roof area.
    â€œIt’s a bitch that the cameras are still out,” Stevens said as the men rode the elevator.
    â€œWell, it’s not like the Feds or the city would spring for someone to come out over Christmas to fix them,” Munson said. “This is the first dry day we’ve had in a while. Probably just some rain got into one of the junction boxes is all. It’s happened before. The rooftop system is shit and no one is going to shell out any money to upgrade it.”
    â€œNot when they have guys like us to go stand out in the cold,” Stevens said.
    â€œHey,” Munson said, “you can always just stay inside where it’s