IVIT WAS FLOCK ON THE phone to the warden—Flock with his eyes still streaming tears, Flock with Sauer standing right behind him, menacing the two bound deck guards.
Sauer shoved Flock out of the way. “Hey, Warden!” he said, and the voice was a cheerful bray, though the serpent eyes were cold and hating. “Warden, you got to get a medic in here. My boy Flock, he hurt himself real bad and he needs a doctor.” He gestured playfully at the guards with the shiv. “I tell you, Warden. I got this knife and I got your guards here. Enough said? So get a medic in here quick, you hear?”
And he snapped the connection.
O’Leary said: “Warden, I told you I smelled trouble!”
The warden lifted his head, glared, started feebly to speak, hesitated, and picked up the long-distance phone. He said sadly to the
