Deadlock (Ryan Lock 2) by Sean Black Page B

Ty’s chest.
    Minutes passed. Lock watched the ventilator as it moved up and down, the monitor’s steady rhythm. Ty’s usual scowl was gone, replaced by an expression devoid of tension. He looked like kids did when they slept. Untroubled.
    ‘If I’d had my way, Reaper would never have left solitary confinement,’ Marquez said. ‘But the US Attorney’s Office wanted his testimony.’
    Lock’s jaw tightened. ‘And they’re still going to get it. I’m going to see to that personally.’
    One of Pelican Bay’s numerous medical staff, a petite Asian-American woman whose name badge read Dr Lau, walked into the bay. She checked Ty’s chart without acknowledging either Lock or the warden.
    ‘How bad is it?’ Lock asked her.
    ‘There’s some tissue and nerve damage, and we’ve had to pull the slug out of his shoulder, but he’s stable.’
    Lock looked over at Marquez. ‘Shouldn’t you be getting him to a civilian facility?’
    ‘We’re pretty experienced in dealing with violent trauma injuries here,’ Dr Lau said. ‘Get plenty of practice.’
    Lock turned to her. ‘He’ll be OK though, right?’
    ‘There are no guarantees, but, for someone who’s been shot, I’d say his prognosis is good. As long as he doesn’t pick up a secondary infection he should be fine.’
    ‘What you plan on doing with Reaper?’ Lock asked Marquez.
    ‘Well, I’ll tell you something, son. I never thought the day would come when I’d say this about an inmate, but I want him out of my goddamn prison. So I plan on shipping him down to San Francisco as soon as I can. Let the goddamn US Attorney’s Office deal with him. If they can.’
    ‘Maybe now they’ll take our original advice,’ Lock said, ‘and stash him in a safe house.’
    ‘You know he’ll try to escape, don’t you?’ Marquez cautioned.
    ‘You seem pretty sure about that.’
    ‘Soon as I heard that he wanted back on the mainline, that’s what I thought. Of course, having you here kind of cramped his style. That’s probably why he asked the Nazi Low Riders to screw around with you and your buddy.’
    Lock thought about this. It made sense that Reaper was behind the Nazi Low Riders’ order to attack Ty. It was a way of getting Lock and Ty out of the way, without appearing openly hostile to Jalicia.
    ‘Let me know when you’re going to make the transfer and I’ll ride along to make sure I deliver Reaper to the prosecutor personally,’ Lock said.
    Lieutenant Williams stuck his head through the curtain. ‘Warden?’
    ‘What is it?’
    Williams hesitated as he looked from the warden to the uncuffed Lock, who was still wearing the prison blues that identified him as an inmate.
    ‘Go ahead,’ Marquez said. ‘You can speak freely.’
    ‘Someone just blew up the Federal Building in San Francisco.’
    Ty’s heart rate stayed constant on the monitor, while Lock’s jumped. ‘How bad is it?’
    ‘Bad,’ Williams said. ‘Half a dozen dead. Plenty more injured. They’ve hit the Federal Court building in Los Angeles too.’
    ‘Same people?’
    Williams shrugged a ‘who knows?’. ‘Group calling itself the White Aryan Resistance Movement has claimed both.’
    Marquez nodded grimly. ‘Boy, they really don’t want him testifying, do they?’
    ‘Can you give me a minute?’ Lock asked Marquez.
    ‘Take as long as you need.’
    He nodded at Williams, the two men left, and Lock was finally alone with Ty.
    Lock reached out and touched his partner’s hand. ‘Tyrone, listen…’
    Ty’s left eye flicked open. He reached up and struggled to pull the oxygen mask to one side so he could speak. Lock helped him with it.
    ‘Can you not touch me and shit?’ Ty croaked. ‘Don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.’
    Lock felt relief. First that Ty was conscious, but more critically that he was giving Lock grief, which meant he had to be feeling better.
    ‘What the hell you doin’ here anyway?’
    ‘Good to see you too, Tyrone.’
    ‘They didn’t get you