The Monarch Read Online Free PDF

Lew had figured out the plan so easily. Lew made a mental note to dial the smartness down a notch. Being too smart was just as bad as being too dumb with guys like White Mike.
    â€œTime is a factor here, so Mickey King needs to be dead by dinner. A truck rolls out tonight and Mickey’s corpse needs to be on it,” Mickey said. Talking about himself in the third person was starting to annoy Lew.
    â€œRight,” Lew said. “Listen, not to cause trouble or anything. I think it’s great that you think I’m such a stand-­up guy and all, but you just told me a whole lotta shit that could be dangerous for you. Aren’t you banking a lot on your intuition?”
    â€œIt’s never wrong, ese ,” Mickey said. “But it never hurts to have a safety.” Mickey snapped his fingers and Delroy let a plastic baggie unroll in his hand. Hanging down was a shiv in the bag. Lew didn’t need to ask where it had come from. Or whose fingerprints were on it.
    â€œHow’d you get it off the roof?” Lew asked. But Mickey was done answering questions.
    Lew wondered how he could avoid the same fate in store for Delroy and Lenny. He knew they’d be dead before Mickey popped up out of his coffin tonight.
    And now the plan included him.
    A few hours later, as inmates lined up for dinner, all the players were on their marks—­including Lew. He stood in the rain, which had refused to abate, once again.
    Delroy was across the yard, looking like a base runner waiting for the third base coach to wave him in. Lenny was there, but he couldn’t pull another seizure or this act would never work. Delroy was just going to go for it when he got the signal, right in front of everyone. Lew thought the mob panic that would ensue could only help make the whole thing seem more real. His job was to intercept the assistant warden if he came around.
    Mickey, standing in line outside the cafeteria, raised his hands while he was talking. It was Delroy’s signal to make his run. Lew looked up and watched Delroy burst out of the blocks. He thought he was going to run full-­tilt all the way across the yard, but he seemed to get ahold of himself about halfway and slip into character again.
    Lew moved over to the edge of the building and looked around the corner, where the line of hungry men bent. At the end, talking to a ­couple of inmates, was the assistant warden. The inmates he was talking to had nothing to do with this, so the conversation could break up at any time. And sure enough, Lew saw the AW pat one of the inmates on his shoulder and turn to head toward the main event.
    â€œDamn it,” Lew said under his breath as he headed to intercept the AW. He caught him a few feet before the corner, where the AW would have a view of the charade. Lew had no doubt the act would fool the cons, who wouldn’t really care if it was real or not, but if the AW witnessed it firsthand, the jig would be up. The doctor was well lubricated with cash, so pronouncing Mickey dead wasn’t a problem . . . unless the AW got to the body before the doc did. Lew saw the doc walking toward the cafeteria; his role must’ve been to just happen to be in the area. He hadn’t even seen the doc earlier, but Lew had been concerned about other things.
    â€œYes, what is it, Lewis?” the assistant warden said.
    â€œI, uh . . . that is, I was wondering,” Lew stammered. He knew he should have worked something out before he approached the AW. He could adapt like a banshee with the threat of death over his head, but improv had just never been his thing. He needed the right motivation, and helping someone else escape just wasn’t cutting it.
    â€œTake your time, Lewis,” the AW said. Lew knew the only reason the AW was being patient was that up until now, Lew had been the invisible man, flying beneath the prison administration’s radar. They loved cons who did that. But Lew was