The Animal Factory by Edward Bunker Read Free Book Online Page A

for some dope—he doesn’t think it was me anyway and he doesn’t know any other names, I don’t think. If he says we were pressuring him, what the fuck, he stays in the hole and gets transferred. We might get ten days, but here they gotta cage the prey because there are too many predators.”
    Earl snorted, nodded, seeing the irony. Gibbs would be in protective custody for months until he was transferred to a softer prison. The officials couldn’t make transfer too easy or they’d be overrun with men asking for protection just to get out of San Quentin. During those months of isolation, Gibbs’s food would be spat in, his face spat on, and he would be despised as a coward—for being a victim.
    The public-address speakers blared: “Copen, A-forty-two forty-three , report to the yard office immediately!”
    Earl squeezed Paul playfully on the shoulder cap. “Well, I’m gonna find out what the score is.”
    “I’ll be waiting right here.”
    Sergeant William Kittredge was waiting on the road beyond the yard gate, leaning against the wall of the education building, a sly grin on his face. He was bouncing a red ball the size of a jawbreaker up and down in his hand, and Earl knew it was a balloon containing two grams of heroin. The powder was packed down, the balloon knotted and the end snipped off.
    “You guys lost something, didn’t you?”
    Earl shrugged. “Not that I know of.”
    “What about this here?” Kittredge held the balloon up between his thumb and forefinger.
    “I never saw it before,” Earl said, careful to keep his voice modulated . Kittredge might take too vehement a denial as an insult to his intelligence, while something coy would be an indirect admission .
    “That’s not what I heard.”
    Earl didn’t reply. It was better to wait till he knew Gibbs’s story.
    “Let it hang. I’m not telling Hodges what I saw, but when your boss comes on duty, I’ll see what he wants to do. Meanwhile, come on down to the office so you can type a memo.”
    “Where’s Fitz?”
    “On a visit. Anyway, I want you to type this one.” Earl walked beside Kittredge to the yard office, where Rand was doodling on a yellow legal pad. The lieutenant was not in the rear office. The memo had been roughed out. Earl polished the grammar and spelling as he typed:
    TO: THE CAPTAIN
SUBJECT: GIBBS , 47895
At 9:50 a.m., this date, while on duty as yard sergeant, the writer was escorting an inmate from the visiting room to “B” Section when a gun rail officer blew his whistle on the Main Yard. I turned and saw inmate GIBBS, 47895, running from the direction of the North cellhouse rotunda. I took the subject into custody and continued to “B” Section; then took Gibbs to the hospital clinic where he was treated for a cut mouth ( see medical report ). At that time he handed me a red balloon knotted into a ball and containing a beige powder. Gibbs claims it is heroin, and that he was given it by three inmates, two white and one Mexican, whom he can identify if he sees them but cannot name. They wanted him to take it into “A” Section for delivery to “Bulldog,” apparently LADD, 12943. When he refused, he was assaulted and ran out. According to Officer Rand, Gibbs had been called to the yard office for a job interview. Gibbs was placed in administrative segregation pending hearing by the Disciplinary Committee. Contents of the balloon have not been given a field analysis as of this report.
     
    Now Earl knew Gibbs’s story—and that Kittredge believed it. Refuting it was impossible without confessing the truth, and that was out of the question. He handed the report to Kittredge, who signed it and put it in an envelope.
    “There are better ways,” Kittredge said. “I could bust the whole fuckin’ mob of you.”
    Earl saw Rand behind Kittredge, and the big guard was holding a finger to his lips. The admonition was unnecessary.
    “You run things around here,” Earl said. “You can lock everybody up every day