The Tower (1999) Read Online Free PDF

last the futility of his efforts, Spade overturned his bed, hurling it against the wall with one arm. He sank angrily to his haunches, glaring across the Hole at Allander.
    "Keep it the fuck down down there!" one of the guards shouted into the Hole.
    "Yeah, you shut the fuck up, nigger," Cyprus added from below.
    Spade threw water from the toilet over his head, then sat on the cell floor as his breathing slowed to normal. There was a long silence.
    "Perhaps you would have had more luck had you used your head as a battering ram." Allander smiled, then walked to his bed and peeled the blanket back neatly. "Now, if you could please restrain your impotent rage . . ." He motioned majestically around his unit and climbed into bed. Rolling over, he turned his back to Spade.
    Spade's hands clenched and unclenched in the darkness. After several hours, to make himself feel better, he loosened his pants and pissed on Cyprus again.

    Chapter 6
    T H E guards patrolled the top of the Tower, circling endlessly with their guns and cigarettes. Tom Hackett was Maingate's senior guard; he'd been selected because of his CIA training, and his experience in transporting and subduing prisoners. There are two types of enforcers--those who catch people, and those who keep and control them. Hackett was definitely one of the latter. When the Tower had first gone up, there were few who didn't suspect he would be called in to run security.
    Toughness was written in every line on Hackett's face. The ruddy, tan skin of his cheeks drooped into jowls. Along with his pug nose, they gave him the appearance of a kind, but disgruntled bulldog.
    The two guards talked as they circled, sometimes shouting above the roar of the waves, and bits and pieces of their conversation wafted down to the inmates.
    Justin Greener pulled out a cigarette. "Got a light?" he asked.
    "Of course," Hackett said, reaching for the toolbox. He removed a small cup of yogurt and placed it on the deck, then dug through a pile of tools to find the matches.
    "You eat that shit?" Greener asked, pointing to the yogurt and trying not to smile.
    Hackett stood up, straightening his green slicker indignantly. "Wait till you get a few more years on you and your doctor starts riding you like a bronco, we'll see what you're eating." He lit a match off his thumbnail and held it out unceremoniously.
    Greener surveyed the darkening clouds as he cupped his hands around the small flame. "Looks like rain," he said, the cigarette jiggling slightly with his words.
    "I told you. Better grab your jacket."
    Greener crossed over to the small guard station and took a tightly rolled slicker from the wall. The jacket was packed into itself and tied with a cord; he flipped it once in the air casually and caught it.
    "That new kid's a sick bastard," he said as he walked back to Hackett, the end of his cigarette glowing in the dusk.
    "They all are," Hackett replied.
    "No, I mean he's really psycho. He's calm as shit, all the time. I guess over at Maingate all he did was read all day and draw pictures."
    "And kill five people in his two-year vacation over there. That's why we get him."
    "What'd he kill, the shrink and some nurses?" Greener tapped the roll of the slicker against his thigh as he leaned back against the railing.
    "No. Try his lawyer, two inmates, and two guards."
    "This is the prick who killed both those guards?"
    "Yeah. It's not officially released yet, so it's still a rumor as far as you know."
    "What happened?"
    "He had a meeting with his lawyer and took him hostage. Held the poor bastard's Mont Blanc pen to his carotid artery. I guess he broke the light in the room and hid with his hostage behind the door. When the first guard came in--"
    "Gun first?"
    "Of course."
    Greener shook his head as Hackett continued, "He kicked the door closed on his arm and the stupid bastard dropped the gun. He shot him and his first backup before anyone else got there." Hackett looked down, studying his shoe.
    When he