Tony held his head high, ignoring the few questions yelled at him as his guards led him back towards his cell. He ignored them too as much as possible, following them without glancing at them. He paused and faced the wall before they could order him to do so, and entered his cell the minute it was opened. He moved to the back and faced the wall, waiting till his handcuffs were removed. Once they left he turned around, surveying the scene. He had a new mattress on the bed, a foam one, so that ruled out any further digging for springs! How uncomfortable it would be could only be imagined. The rest of his cell remained the same since his extraction. Two books lay on top of each other on his chair, and his letters lay next to them. Instinctively he went to check the pile, hoping to find a few new ones. He was disappointed.

'Hey, fed,' called a voice he recognized as Sanchez's, 'are you still alive? Where were you? The holding cell is for ten days only!'

Tony found himself grinning. No one had spoken to him for the last fifteen days. He moved over to the bars and gazed across the floor. 'Tell that to the supervisor! He liked my company so much he decided to keep me extra long!'

'We missed you, amigo! You can tell us about it tomorrow in the yard.'

'Si,' he agreed, wandering back to his bed. He picked up the old letters and read them again, whispering the endearments aloud. 'Dear Tony, sweetie, honey, pet!' He shook his head. They had begun to sound strange to his ears.

He moved over to his sink, washing his hands and face, cupping his hands to drink a little, before attempting to wash. The water was ice cold and he had no towel, but he reveled in feeling clean after three weeks. Now if only he would get a change of clothes soon! He wiped himself in the bottom of the blanket. A puddle of water surrounded the sink, but at least he felt fresh. He washed his underwear and hung it carefully on the back of the chair, hoping it would dry the next morning. Clean laundry was handed out on Tuesday, and he had missed it by a day. Doubtless the next guard walking past would yell at him, but it was done now.

At lights out he lay on his foam mattress, delighted it was clean. It felt almost luxurious compared to the floor. He pulled his blanket over himself, feeling truly warm for the first time in twenty days. Tonight he would be able to sleep all night long without waking up cold. It was good to be back!

Watch it, Almeida! You'll feel at home before you know it!

He closed his eyes, daydreaming of home, picturing the table on the verandah full of food, with the family settling down. It wasn't helping him to accept his confinement, but he allowed himself to dream just before he fell asleep, and immediately after waking if he woke before the siren. It gave him something to look forward to. As he was unable to release his energy during the day he usually spent hours in bed dreaming every night before falling asleep.

That night he got so comfortable he only daydreamed a few minutes before he fell asleep, dreaming of home. They were watching TV, he was playing his guitar upstairs, and then people came and put cuffs on him and dragged him out. He yelled, hanging onto the door, and Michelle came and tried to pull him backwards, but the strangers were too strong for them, and his grip on the door weakened. He awoke shaking, covered in sweat.

The outside light shone into his dim cell, showing him the sink, toilet, chair and books. Their shadows were criss-crossed with dozens of straight lines, covering his entire floor. 'Bloody bars' he muttered, attempting to swallow the lump in his throat. At least they only threw small shadows during the day when his own light was on. At night they were revealed in all their grimness. He couldn't take it for much longer. "Hang in there, Tony. We love you." "We'll see you real soon, honey." The shadows blurred.

The siren woke him in the morning. He sat up exhausted, resenting having missed his few minutes quiet daydream before the day began. He crawled out of bed, not wishing to miss his yard time, feeling his clothes. They were almost as wet as last night. He laid them on the floor behind the bed, out of direct view of any passing guard and pulled his clothes on without them. His comb lay in the small box he had found in this cell. He tidied his hair and washed his face, picking up one of the two books. What had they given him this week?

He groaned aloud. Little Women. At least he hadn't read it yet! After glancing through the first page he decided to see the other book. He could read this one later. The second book was a text book titled The Extraction Of Pollen – The Miracle Of The Honey Bee. Idly he glanced through the pages, finding black and white pictures in the middle. He rubbed a hand across his eyes, trying to wake up. Perhaps he would read Little Women first after all! It was a classic – he knew his sisters had a copy at home. They would be interested to hear that he had read it too! He did have to write something in his next letter, and he sure as hell wasn't going to mention the previous three weeks.

Breakfast came as he was finishing the second chapter. He laid the book back on the chair, on top of the textbook, and returned to the bed. Once his tray arrived he carried it over to the bed, eating his toast and porridge, drinking his lukewarm tea. When had he last drunk a hot cup of tea? Two days before his arrest, sometime in the evening with Michelle. He'd made a cup for both of them, and they had watched a thriller.

He forced himself to stop remembering the past. This was the daytime, he reserved nights only for that purpose, knowing that otherwise he would lose his grip on reality. Swallowing the last of the tea he carried the tray back to the slot. There were still a couple of hours before yard time. He picked up the book again and read another chapter. They were eating. The author was inconsiderate enough to describe the table and the food. Tony shut the book in disgust. It was time for his exercises, anyway!

Kneeling on the cold vinyl, he worked through fifty push-ups, noting the slight ache in his muscles. He had been unable to exercise at all for two weeks following his beating, and had begun his routine slowly, trying five the first day. He determined to reach his customary hundred by the end of the week. Tony gave himself a ten minute break noting his rapidly beating heart, dismayed at his poor condition. He spent it on the bed, leaning back against the wall. He forced twenty sit-ups from his exhausted body before beginning some stretching exercises. There was no need to hurry, he could take all the time he needed.

I never got this far at home! The phone would always ring, or I'd be looking for some document that needed to go to the office that day. Well Almeida, you got what you wished for, remember? You told Michelle that you'd love to live in a place without phones! Of course you didn't mean it seriously, but you did say so anyway.

Once again he picked up the book, noting Sanchez across the floor was reading a book too. Idly he wandered what it could be about. He appeared to be absorbed in it anyway. With a sigh he picked up his own book. He would skip the tea party and read further. What could Martins the bank robber, his neighbor be reading? Was it worth a certain black eye trying to swap books? He decided it was.

'Hey Martins, are you up?'

'Sure, what do want, Almeida?' Martins appeared just as bored as he was, doubtless longing to join his smoking friends in the yard. Tony longed to go outdoors too, having spent five weeks inside.

'You wanna swap books?' Tony inquired, leaning his face against the bars closest to Martins' cell.

There was a pause. 'Sure, why the hell not. I read this yesterday. Put your hand out.' Tony stuck his hand out rapidly and pulled a thin flat book inside. Life In The Yurt – Following The Nomadic Mongols. Well, he would love to travel somewhere different; this book would be just the thing he needed. He laid it on the chair and took a quick look to make certain no guards were about. He passed Little Women over to Martins.

'What the hell,' he heard from his neighbor, in an outraged tone. 'Are you nuts? Gimme back my book now, Almeida, or I'll wring your neck!'

Tony almost grinned. 'Ok, I will. Just let me have it for today.'

'Just for today, you bastard! I was reading that again. What's your other book about?'

'Honey bees, but it won't pass through the bars, it's too thick.'

'Forget it.'

Tony had finished the first chapter on the best way of constructing a yurt when the siren wailed. Eagerly he laid the book down and went to wait for his door to open, joining the queue with the others.

'I'd punch you out if you hadn't just returned from the holding cell,' Martins hissed. Tony apologized again, knowing Martins would do nothing to risk yard time, just as he wouldn't either. There were people waiting to talk to him for the first time since his imprisonment, and he had something he needed to ask them too.

'Amigo,' Sanchez exclaimed, as he walked through the steel doors, blinking in the light. 'Come over here, let's see you.' Tony followed him to the space normally occupied by the Latin gang. They welcomed him as warmly as though they had known each other all their lives. 'So tell us, what happened after they took you away. They beat you up, right?' He nodded. 'The bastards. Did you have your photo with you? They searched the cell again, but they found nothing.'

'Si, it was on me. They found it there.' He stared at the floor, struggling to keep his emotions out of his face. They sensed his anguish for they gave him a minute. 'Bastard supervisor took it; he said he'd throw it in his bin! He can't do that, right?'

'Amigo, he can do whatever he wants. Did he give you extra time for it?'

Tony nodded, bitterly. 'Si, another ten days!'

'Then he had to fill out some reason on the form. So amigo, he would have to have produced the photo as evidence, in which case it's in your box of stuff now.'

Tony tried to tell himself it was ok then, but his heart ached. They stared at him in sympathy. 'Amigo, try hard to behave yourself today, so you get to come out tomorrow too. I'll have it back for you,' Sanchez said. 'A guard owes me a favor. I caught him stealing, and I didn't squeal.'

A half smile crept across his face, a faint reflection of his infectious grins – the best he could manage these days. 'You real sure?'

'Si, I'm sure. Am I the kind of person to promise something and not deliver it? You ask the others! Am I?'

They all shook their heads, insisting Sanchez was the best car thief in the city, never failing to drive up in the car he'd promised to get. Tony nodded, unsure what comment to make.

'They found something else too,' he said softly. The gang fell silent immediately, sensing something.

'You don't have anything else, fed,' one of them reminded him. The rest of the gang hushed him indignantly. 'Let him speak. What did they get amigo?'

Tony sighed heavily and explained about the spring he had pulled from his mattress, sharpening it for days against the wall. They listened in silence, avoiding his eyes. 'I need something like that again, and I can't make it from anything in my cell anymore. If you could get me something, I'd write and tell my mom to pay your family.' He gazed at them all.

'Amigo, is that what they taught you in the army?' the leader of the gang asked him. 'That you just give up and die if life goes bad? Or did they teach you that when you became a fed? Suicide in case of capture!' They all frowned at him.

'Look, guys, I can't stay here like this. The whole world is out there, and I'm stuck in here. I don't even get to watch it passing. I got nothing to lose, anyway. What more can they sentence me to?' The last sentence was addressed straight to the leader.

'You'd get a year in the SHU, to start with. There's no books there, and you only get to go outside for half an hour every second day if you're lucky. You don't get to wander round the yard either; you march up and down in a narrow straight pen. You don't get any mail; you don't get to speak to anyone. It kills, I know.'

'Look, I don't even know what the hell SHU stands for, and I don't care,' Tony began. 'No, they didn't teach me to give up in the army whilst any hope remained, but there's none left for me.'

When I see the guards up in the towers I'm tempted to march straight up to the wall and start climbing. I'm just scared the bastards would miss and only cripple me.

'There's always another option, amigo,' Sanchez said slowly. 'You've been trained real well, I saw you hide that photo with six guards and Davis in front of you, and they didn't find it. Top marks. With that kind of training behind you, fed, why not try fence parole instead?'

They stared at each other in silence.

'If they catch you, you get your wish. They'll kill you. If you get out, well, you can live again.' They all stared at Tony.

Escape! God, if I only had a chance of pulling it off!

To live, to walk outside again. To go swimming. To see mom and Papa.

He stopped himself firmly. He would never see them again, if he did get out that way. But, he would be able to live, and yes, he would find a way of contacting his parents, letting them know he was ok. He took several deep breaths, giddy with excitement. His eyes sparkled.

'He's considering it,' one of the gang said softly.

'Think about it, amigo. Don't be in a hurry to die. Plan it well.'

Tony gazed round the yard, raising his eyes upwards along the wall. Beyond it lay another wall, even higher, with barbed wire on the top. It was too smooth to climb; he would need a rope or something. It was lit more brilliantly than the statue of liberty at night, and equally exposed during the day, but beyond lay freedom. His heart leapt.

'Don't even think of going over the walls, amigo, it can't be done,' the gang leader said. 'You'll have to take out a few guards and walk out.'

Tony had reached the same conclusion himself. Could he take out six guards?

Could Lieutenant Almeida have taken out six armed hostiles? No way! Sure he could! He would certainly have tried, anyway, were he being held somewhere!

'The guards don't take me anywhere alone except when I'm in trouble,' he stated. 'Then they cuff my hands behind my back. There's no way I could disarm even two without my hands.'

They all began talking at once, enabling him to see a mirror reflection of what they must have been like outside years before. 'You must open the cuffs, amigo! They will not be as vigilant if they think you're cuffed. Then …'

'Then what?' Tony asked. 'Even uncuffed its six armed men against one. Where would I run? I can't open the steel doors without an access card.'

'Then you need to get hold of the card,' stated Sanchez. 'Once you're uncuffed, you grab a gun and get them to give you a card.'

Tony frowned thoughtfully. A plan was beginning to formulate in his brain. 'I'd have to take them out in an area without camera surveillance. Maybe it would be best between the steel doors. I could lock them inside, take someone's clothes and gun, and just leave.'

'Amigo, now you're talking! That would give you about five minutes, ten if you're lucky. You'll need to steal a car. Wait a minute! You're only a fed; you'd better get a guard's car keys. You'd never be able to start it in time!'

'Good idea,' Tony agreed. He thought over the plan in detail. 'How would I unlock the cuffs?'

'With the wire I'll get you tomorrow,' the leader of the gang told him. 'Tell me you know how to pick locks, fed?' He gave Tony a doubtful look.

'Sure I can,' he replied, confidently. 'I won't be able to pick it though whilst I'm on the move with two guards behind me. I must get them to stop me, yell at me, threaten me against a wall for a moment.'

His heart beat faster. He might just be able to pull it off! He could easily delay them for a minute, and uncuff himself. That would be the simple part. He felt better than at any time since his arrival. He would leave!

'Fed, you'll only get one shot at this. I'd wait a few days till you are a little stronger,' the gang leader advised. 'You've got to be hurting from your beating.'

He's right. Even if I get outside, I won't be able to survive without being 100 fit. I'll be totally alone there. Can't just go to a shop and buy food.

Tony nodded. 'Si. I'll need another week. I'll be okay by then.'

'Aguas!' warned a junior member of the gang and they fell silent as a guard walked past. He stopped in front of them, challenging them. They all stared back at him in silence.

'What are you banditos discussing, ah? Nothing legal, I'll bet! You want to get more of your scruffy relatives into the States, huh,' he concluded, addressing his last remark to entire group. Tony felt his fists clench. Sanchez laid a restraining hand on his arm. He remained silent.

'Listen fed, you got to learn to relax,' the leader told him. 'You need another week to heal. Ignore everything else.'

Focus Almeida, focus!

He nodded. 'Yeah. For a week.'