The Fourth Durango Read Online Free PDF Page A

down on the chair and waited to hear what the associate warden had to say. Loom said nothing for nine or ten seconds, letting a scowl and an unblinking stare speak for him. Then came the accusatory demand.
    “I still want a straight answer to why you refused parole seven months ago.”
    “We’ve been over all that.”
    “Humor me.”
    Adair sighed. “Maybe this time we should try the catechistic approach.”
    “Fine. I always liked my catechism. Simple answers to hard questions.”
    “The first question,” Adair said. “Why am I here?”
    “You’re a felon convicted of Federal income tax evasion.”
    “Are such tax evaders usually confined to maximum-security Federal prisons?”
    “Not unless they hope to squeeze something else out of them.”
    “Where are such tax evaders usually sent?”
    “To Club Feds in Pennsylvania, Florida, Texas and Alabama—except the one in Alabama’s kind of crummy.”
    “So why am I really here?”
    “Because they couldn’t prove you took a million dollars under the table—or half of it anyhow.”
    “What happened after all that was dropped?”
    “They hit you with the tax evasion thing and you noloed it.”
    “Why would I do that?”
    “Because they had you cold and you didn’t have any choice.”
    Adair was again studying the head of the black bear who had been shot too young when he said, “Let’s go back to your original question.”
    “Why you refused parole?”
    Adair nodded and looked back at Loom. “After I leave here today, to whom do I report?”
    “Nobody.”
    “And to whom would I report if I’d accepted parole seven months ago?”
    “To some Federal parole officer maybe half your age.”
    “And what would’ve happened if I’d been charged with parole violation—no matter how minor?”
    A fresh scowl rewrinkled Loom’s forehead as he leaned back in his swivel chair. “You’re saying they’d’ve faked a parole violation so they could squeeze you some more on what that bribe thing was all about, right?”
    Adair only smiled. Loom looked away and said, “Well, if they’d stuck you with a phony parole violation, and I’m not saying it could’ve happened, but if it had, then you’d have been right back here for another nice visit.” He looked at Adair and almost smiled himself. “This is where you’re supposed to say, ‘I rest my case.’”
    “I rest my case,” said Adair.
    In the silence that followed, Loom’s expression went from one of near friendliness to total indifference. When he finally spoke it was off to the left in a monotone from lips that scarcely moved. He’s been here so long, Adair realized, that now and then he even talks like some old lag.
    “Tell me about you and Bobby Dupree,” Loom said through ventriloquistic lips.
    “Who?”
    “That razorback who hangs out with Loco of the lightbulbs.”
    “What about him?”
    Loom snapped his gaze back to Adair and made his voice crisp. “He’s in the hospital with a broken left wrist and possible internal injuries.”
    “Then it’s sorry I am to learn of his troubles,” Adair said with no hint of a brogue.
    “We found him in the discharge area shower.”
    “So?”
    “So the last guy to use that shower before we found him was you.”
    “Impossible.”
    “Why?”
    “Because the last guy to use that shower must’ve been the guy who broke Mr. Dupree’s wrist, which couldn’t have been me, taking my advanced age into consideration and also Mr. Dupree’s considerable size.”
    “Fucking lawyer talk.”
    Adair nodded politely, as if acknowledging some small but gracious compliment. “What does Mr. Dupree say?”
    “That there were four of them and they all wore masks.”
    Adair rose from the plastic chair. “Then I don’t see we have anything more to discuss.”
    “Sit down.”
    Adair sat down. Loom leaned far back in his executive swivel chair, placed both feet on the desk, locked his hands behind his neck and examined the ceiling.
    “A rumor,” he said.