"All of them?"

For a response, all Piersall could manage was a thin, tight smile.

"So you're thinking," Hunt said, "that Palmer, and maybe Andrea…?"

"I don't know. I don't know. I almost can't bear to think about it, to tell you the truth." Piersall's head hung as though by a single thread in his neck. "I've worked with and built a career around these people for the past fifteen years. My family has gone on vacations with Jim Pine's family. I don't want to believe he'd order what I can't help but think he might have."

"But why now?"

"That's just it. Just now is why it's suddenly feasible. I don't know if you've been following it, but the prison system's had a bad few weeks. They just indicted eight guards at Avenal for blood sport…"

"What's that?"

"Human cockfights. Gladiator contests to the death."

While Hunt tried to fit this degree of organized brutality into his worldview, Piersall continued, "On top of that, we had four inmate deaths at Folsom…"

"In one week? How did that happen?"

Again, the tight smile. "One bad fall. One complication from-I'm not joking-a pulled tooth. And two pneumonias that didn't get diagnosed in time, which isn't much of a surprise considering the head physician up there doesn't have a license to practice in hospitals anymore. But, hey," he added with a bitter laugh, "at least no shootings, so it wasn't the guards."

"Does that happen a lot? I thought that was mostly the movies, guards shooting prisoners?"

"Depends on where you happen to be locked up. Here in California, happens about once every two months. Rest of the country, maybe once a year, and that's usually only if you're actually about to kill somebody else. In any case, the situation is bad enough that Palmer's already appointed both an investigator and a special master to get a plan going, how to deal with the constitutional issues of prosecuting these things. You want more?"

"I think I'm getting the picture."

"Well, but you need the last piece, which just came to a head over this last weekend. Palmer had ordered an audit…"

"So he's all over this, isn't he?"

"Oh, yeah. He's the man-or was-no doubt about it. Anyway, a while ago, he got wind of money being laundered through the prisons, so he ordered an audit on the prisoners' books at Pelican Bay."

"I don't know what they are, prisoners' books."

"Inmate trust accounts. All prisoners get one so their friends or family can get them money inside to buy stuff-food, bathroom supplies. That stuff's legit at the commissary. Under the table, of course, you've got cigarettes, dope, booze, women, boys, whatever they can score."

"This is in the prisons?"

"Right."

" Pelican Bay? Toughest lockup in the country?"

"That's the one."

"With the guards there?"

"Yeah. Probably cutting half the deals, taking a percentage on all of them."

Hunt had to break the tension. "You're not making this up?"

It brought back the tight smile. "So what did the audit disclose? Half the guys in the SHU-the Security Housing Unit-meanest place on campus, trust me, half of the books on these guys, had over twenty thousand dollars in them. Two of them had over forty thou."

"Thousand?"

"Thousand."

"That'll buy a lot of Snickers," Hunt said. "How'd they get that kind of money?"

"You'll love this. It's Eme."

"It's getting so I need a scorecard. Who is Emma?"

"No, no. EME. Mexican Mafia. Bad, bad, bad dudes, the worst. Their guys are all over the state but mostly down south-I'm talking dealers on street corners-they're paying protection to the EME heavyweights in the joint. So it's just another extortion racket, but it seems to bring in big money, which then goes back out to buy more drugs or support the con's family. I don't know, maybe they send their kids to college with it. But the point is it's large, and by the time it goes out, it's clean. Laundered through the prison."

"Jesus."

"Yeah, well, you put all this together. The audit was the last straw, and Palmer finally ran out of patience. He had his office drafting up an emergency order to federalize the entire state prison system, which meant taking the union out of the equation. He had some jurisdiction issues, but it's not impossible he would have had the damn thing signed by now."

"Except he got killed."

"Right. Except that." Laying it all out seemed to have calmed Piersall's nerves to some degree, but now the reality of his situation settled on him heavily again. He came forward on the couch, feet flat on the floor, elbows resting on his knees, his shoulders sagging under the load. "I've been sitting in my office since early today." He was whispering, perhaps afraid of being heard even up here. "Ever since I heard that Andrea was missing. I just don't know what I'm going to do, except I know I can't go to the police." He looked up across the space between them. "I'll be honest with you. I'm scared shitless."

To Hunt, this seemed like a justified response. He'd be scared, too. Perhaps he should be now, though he wasn't. All the prison stuff felt far removed from him. Although if Andrea was involved in it, he knew that this wasn't the case. He was in up to his neck. "I'm assuming," he said, "that Pine knew about the judge's order."

Piersall nodded. "We called him from my office, as soon as Andrea told me about it. This was early Monday afternoon. So now look at this." From his shirt pocket, he took a small newspaper clipping. "Yesterday's Chronicle."

Hunt took it. He had to stand up and move under one of the lights to read it.

INMATE LAST SEEN GOING FOR A SMOKE

A 35-year-old ex-convict who recently had violated his parole escaped yesterday from San Quentin, where he was awaiting transport to Vacaville State Prison, when he left his cell in midafternoon, apparently with permission to go smoke a cigarette.

Although a tracking canine unit was dispatched to the scene, the dogs were apparently unable to pick up any scent of Arthur Mowery, and in response, the Department of Corrections has expanded its search to outlying counties.

Mowery was originally arrested in July of 1998 for burglary and possession of a firearm by a felon and, since that time, has been paroled twice. Both times he was rearrested for violating his parole.

Hunt looked up. "Yesterday's Chronicle. That makes the escape Monday afternoon."

Piersall lifted, then dropped his head. "Yes, I noticed that."

Coming back to his own seat, Hunt said, "So what do you want me to do? You think this guy Mowery is…?"

Piersall held up a restraining hand. "I don't know," he said. "That's my mantra for this whole situation. I don't know anything about him, except what you've just read. But I do know that most of the work you've done for us, you got through Andrea. Her secretary told me that your office had called several times asking about her." He drew a deep breath, finally made eye contact. "Look, Wyatt, I can't be any traceable part of anything that results in problems for the union. I want you to understand that perfectly. But someone needs to know about all this if it's hurt Andrea. Someone needs to look into it. You seemed the logical choice."

"Okay, I'll buy that. But how do you read this?" Hunt asked.

"I don't think…I know that Jim Pine put Mowery on the payroll for a couple of months several years ago, after he got paroled the first time."

"On the payroll doing what?"

Clearly, this confession was weighing heavily on Piersall. He wiped the shine off his forehead. "Security. He went up the second time because he got a little too enthusiastic. That's when I heard his name the first time. I couldn't believe Pine had hired him on the books, and we had a discussion about it. It couldn't happen again. You hear what I'm saying?"

"I think so."