6.

The men gathered in the Gatehouse, preparing to put Mark's carefully thought out plan into effect. Although Frank Harper was against it, he had insisted on remaining involved. He sat back from the coffee table, watching as Collins and McCormick spoke.

"You'll be under very loose surveillance, McCormick. Too tight and no one will take the bait."

"I understand, Agent Collins. Just make sure your men are ready to move in when it happens." Mark's face was drawn, the shadows under his bloodshot eyes testifying to his lack of sleep.

"We will be. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, let's get this show on the road."

"Mark, it's not too late to change your mind," Frank said, knowing it was useless.

"It was too late when I agreed to help take Lutrin down." For the first time, Mark looked his friend straight in the eye. "I'm not trying to commit suicide, if that's what you're worrying about, Frank. Hardcase thought this guy was bad news and needed to be taken off the street. He essentially gave his life in the pursuit of that goal, isn't that right, Collins?"

The red-haired agent coughed in what Mark took as assent.

"I'm just gonna make certain that it happens."

"Just don't sacrifice yourself during the process."

Mark tilted his head in a nod and left the room. Frank sighed as he followed.

"Harper."

Frank turned his attention away from the fast disappearing Coyote, Mark's beloved vehicle. "Yes?"

"Would you care to ride with me?"

"Thanks." Frank climbed into the passenger side of the dark blue government-issue sedan.

H&McC

Mark didn't take lightly his visits to any prison or jail, never quite certain that he'd truly be allowed to leave. Now he had something more to add to his fear and nervousness. Anger. He knew he had to channel that anger. He couldn't allow it free reign or Lutrin would win. And that wasn't an option.

He finally made it through security, surviving the less-than-casual pat down as well as condolences from a couple of guards who knew both him and Hardcastle well. With a tight smile, he thanked them. Mark walked into the main visitor center, checking out the other people as he strolled across the floor. Once he determined that he didn't recognize anyone present, he checked out the setup. One side of the room was divided from the other by a long Plexiglas barrier. There were small side dividers that made tiny half-cubicles. Telephone receivers were available for communication between inmate and visitor. Chairs, bare and well-worn, sat ready for use.

Mark spotted Tomas Lutrin at the far end of the room and stalked to where the man waited. He stood there for a long moment, staring at the one responsible for everything that had occurred. Finally, he pulled the chair out and sat down, picking up the handset. He watched as Lutrin did the same.

"Well, I certainly didn't expect to see you here, amigo." Lutrin's swarthy features creased in a mocking smile.

"I'm not your friend," Mark snapped.

"So why are you here?"

"To tell you that you made a huge mistake."

Lutrin held out his hands. "In trusting my men? Perhaps so. In trusting you? Most definitely."

Mark rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping the sweat from his upper lip. "I meant in hiring an incompetent hitman. You'd have been better off killing me and leaving the Judge alive. He plays…played by the rules. I don't."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. And even if I did, I certainly wouldn't admit it. As a former inmate, you know all contacts here are recorded, except for those between an inmate and his attorney."

"Not if you know the right people." Mark made a slight gesture toward one of the guards. He received a slight nod in return. "Besides, I'm not here to get a confession. I'm just delivering a warning. You'd better hope that you're found guilty at your trial. Because I'll be waiting for you when and if you're ever released."

Lutrin leaned toward the glass, exhaling with agitation. "Are you threatening me, amigo?"

"No threat. Fact."

"McCormick!" The shout made people jump. Two men in suits walked across the room with long, purposeful strides.

Mark swiveled quickly, turning his back on Lutrin as he muttered. "Shit." Then loud enough to carry, "Special Agents Collins and Wu. I didn't expect to run into you here."

Lutrin watched the confrontation with interest. Although it was easier to hear using the receivers, the Plexiglas barrier wasn't actually soundproof. With a little effort, combined with the raised voices of the newcomers, Tomas Lutrin would hear almost everything said.

"I thought we had an agreement, McCormick."

"Yeah, we do. I agreed to testify against this piece of trash. I didn't agree to stay locked up like some kind of prisoner."

Collins moved closer to McCormick until he was nose to nose with the younger man. "You'll stay where I tell you to and no lip."

"You can just go…" Mark's face hardened, his blue eyes turning dark and insolent.

"Hey, back off. Both of you." Agent Wu reached out and grabbed Collins' forearm. "This isn't the place and time."

Collins moved away, his jaw tightening. "You're right, this isn't the place to discuss it. We'll continue at the safe house."

"You wanna talk to me, I'll be at Gull's-Way." Taking a deep, unsteady breath, Mark also stepped back.

"It's not safe."

"It's my home. At least for the time being." Mark walked quickly out of the visitors' room, ignoring the curious looks of people he passed.

Once outside, Mark moved to where the Coyote was parked. He slid into the vehicle, only then allowing a cold smile to appear. Starting the engine with a roar, he pulled out onto the street. He relished the taste of freedom as the prison became smaller in his rear view mirror. The play was now in motion. It was up to the feds to monitor Lutrin's visitors and find the contract holder.

H&McC

"Please, Aunt Mae, Aunt Zora, you need to stay in Arkansas for now." Mark grimaced at Frank Harper, the phone receiver caught between his shoulder and his ear as he prepared breakfast. "I know you want to be here for the funeral, but I don't know when that will be. Yes, ma'am, I know that we can't wait forever to bury him, but the Judge hasn't been released yet. I don't know why not. What? Oh, I'm doin' fine, Aunt Mae. I'm not alone, Sarah's here. Well, she's actually staying at the Harpers' house. You remember Frank Harper, don't you? Yes, ma'am, that nice police officer. Why? It might be a little dangerous here. No, I'm okay. Really. Yes, ma'am, I'll let you know as soon as I have some kind of date. I promise. I'll take care. Goodbye, Aunt Mae. Goodbye, Aunt Zora." He hung up the phone and collapsed back against the counter. "They wanted to fly out here and help protect me."

"They've really taken to you, Mark. Naturally they're worried." Frank pulled the toast out of the broiler and slathered butter on them.

"Yeah, and I appreciate that, but I can't let them come out here. Not until this is all taken care of."

"How are things going? Collins barely tells me anything and I hardly see you."

"So far, nothing concrete. But I do think that I've got someone watching me." Mark ladled the eggs onto two plates he had removed from the warming oven, fat sausage patties sitting on them. "There's fresh coffee in the pot."

"Thanks, I'll get us a couple of cups." Frank joined Mark at the table, breathing the smell of the food in deeply. "Looks great."

"I hope so. I'm hungry."

Frank waited until they had both cleaned their plates and were sipping on a second cup of coffee before speaking. "You seem better. You look better, too."

"I'm feeling better."

"Don't take this the wrong way, Mark, but why?" Frank held the thick mug in both hands.

"I don't know. I just feel…it's not as bad this time. Maybe because I'm not alone this time." Mark's blue eyes twinkled. "Among other things."

"Feel like sharing those 'other things'?"

"Not yet. But at the rate things are going, it won't be long before you understand exactly what I'm talking about."

"You're getting as bad as Milt was."

A grin on his face, Mark ducked his head. "I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or a complaint."

Frank chuckled. "I'm not sure either. So you said that you think you might be under surveillance? I'm assuming you don't mean the Bureau."

"Not unless they drive a yellow and black Charger."

"Kind of obvious a vehicle, isn't it?" Frank commented.

"Maybe, but it's also fast enough to disappear into traffic if anyone spots them. I need to make it easier for them to get at me."

"I don't like you being so alone out here." Frank stood to look outside the window. "I know you're just off the PCH, but even with that, you're alone here. Everyone is surrounded by acres of land. I don't know if they'd even hear a firefight if it happened."

It was Mark's turn to laugh. "Oh, they'd hear it. They'd just ignore it. The sound of gunfire at Gull's-Way is too common for the neighbors to even react to."

"I think I should move in here."

Mark, in the process of clearing the table off, paused. "No."

"It makes sense that someone would be here with you."

"No, Frank. I'm not putting anyone else in danger."

"That's the nature of the business."

Mark slammed the dishwasher door shut. "I said no! If I'm wrong…I won't lose another friend. I won't!"

A heavy silence spread uncomfortably through the kitchen. Finally Mark looked up at the other man and shrugged. "Besides, you're still keeping an eye on Collins for me, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Good. I need someone on my side watching him. I don't trust Special Agent William Collins as far as I can throw him. But if you're there, I'll feel a lot safer."

"You're a con artist."

"Yeah, maybe. Is it working?"

"Fine. I'll keep an eye on our friend from the FBI and the other on you."

"Whatever makes you happy, Frank."

"What would make me happy is if everything was like it was before we got involved with these people."

"Yeah, so would I, Frank. So would I."