Tony was returned to a different cell after Jack's visit, downstairs and at the side of the block. It contained a single bed, shelf, table and chair. His letters and books were thrown in an untidy pile on his bed. 'Do I get a cell to myself?' he asked, hearing them put away the cuffs.

'Yes you do, convict Almeida. You're a bad influence on everyone round you.'

'A bad influence,' he couldn't help repeating. 'How do you figure that? Sanchez is about to pass the final year of school thanks to me!'

'You know exactly what I mean,' remarked the guard. 'Behave now, convict, if you want to have any dinner!'

'Dammit Jack, I sure wish you'd bought two sandwiches, it was real good,' he thought regretfully. 'You know, my last meal was yesterday breakfast, and my next one will be dinner tonight. I'm kinda hungry!'

He sank onto the bed, cold and stiff, and pulled his blanket over him. The quiet seemed hard to take. He rolled over, curling up, replaying Jack's visit. "Tony, I will get you out." He snorted, trying to kill the faint glimmer of hope that took root in his heart. I know you're trying, Jack, it's real decent of you, but you can't. "How many times have they beaten you?" I don't know anymore, Jack. Are we counting single blows, or just real beatings where I passed out, or came close? "Want to tell me about it?" No I don't! Michelle is bound to question you, and you'd have to lie to her, and if she ever found out…And she probably will, someday, she has a habit of it. He rolled over again, feeling slightly sick. "You're a great agent, you should know that." He snorted again, remembering Jack's testimony at his trial. I know you said lots of good stuff about me, and didn't mention anything bad, you're a friend, I guess, but you're wrong. I'm a useless agent. Useless! I failed, when I was needed the most. Hell, I deserve to be here! He rubbed his eyes irritated.

And you ate his sandwich! That was well done, Almeida, he just stared as though he'd never seen a man eat before. Well, he probably didn't, not that way at least. You ate that whole thing in three bites! Now he'll be looking for lunch, again. He groaned aloud, deeply ashamed, aware he had needed that meal.

"Michelle asked me to visit you; she had a bad dream about you last night." Tony buried his head in his hands. He had called out to her in his despair, could she have heard him? Don't be a fool, Almeida, it's impossible. She just had a bad dream, that's all. Hang on a sec! He pressed his elbows down, raising his head to rest in his hands. When did you start coming, Jack? It's a good seven hour drive from LA, and you were here around nine in the morning! When did she call you? You must have come straight away! What could she have said?

He lay down again, knowing Michelle's persistence. If she gets an idea in her head, she won't rest till it's carried out. I guess you know that now, Jack.

He closed his eyes, longing to rest. Oh great, now you've seen me in this bloody orange uniform! His cheeks burned as he thought of how ridiculous he must have appeared. He sighed quietly. Jack had seen a lot more than the fluorescent uniform. He had seen his bruises, and his reaction to a normal touch, and his hunger. He chewed his lip, deeply ashamed, wandering whether he was glad of the visit. Yes he was, and also no, he wasn't. He rolled over determinedly and fell asleep, tired after his long night awake.

The afternoon passed slowly. Tony found himself missing Sanchez and the game of cards. He glanced through the pile of books Marco had brought on his visit, seeing a couple of his favorite science fictions, his book on baseball that Michelle had bought him when he was sick, and an uninspiring detective novel. He rubbed his face, wandering why his brother had brought that, it wasn't even one of his books.

Tony paused, lifting the book again. He opened the cover and leafed through it, spotting slightly different sized letters on the pages a quarter of the way through. Frowning in excitement he lifted it closer, reading it automatically before realizing it was in Spanish. 30 Incredible Escapes from American Prisons read the caption at the top of every second page, to his delight and horror.

'Oh God, it's just what I need! If ever the guards find this, though, I'm really stuffed!' He opened the first chapter, checking what level of security the prisons were. Three were from maximum security penitentiaries not unlike the two he knew. Tony settled down, unable to take his eyes from the book. The afternoon passed rapidly while he learned about the sewage systems deep underneath the buildings.

The wail of the siren indicating dinner distracted him as he reread the first story, memorizing every detail. Tony placed the book in the middle of his shelf between the rest and went to stand at the door, praying they would let him out. To his relief the door slid aside and he stepped out, hands behind his back and joined the end of a queue of strangers.

A Black Panther ahead of him turned round for a second, looking him over. 'You the dude that escaped from Cromdale?' he asked.

'Yeah,' Tony replied, no longer surprised by how fast news traveled.

'That's cool,' stated the man, turning away.

The queue began to move along the floor, into the dining hall. Tony grabbed a tray and headed determinedly towards the table where he normally sat, placing his tray beside him. Sanchez appeared a few minutes later, sliding into the seat. 'Amigo, what the hell happened to you? You just disappeared off the face of the world.'

Tony snorted, shaking his head. 'I sure wish I could, Sanchez. No, I spent yesterday shackled to the bed, and they moved me this morning to a solitary cell. Seems I'm a bad influence!'

'They're nuts,' Sanchez remarked. 'Amigo, I passed English. What do you think of that? I had to write an essay about a friend, so I wrote about Rodriguez, and I got a "C".' He grinned at Tony.

Tony found himself smiling back. 'That's great. I told you you could do it, didn't I? Hell, Sanchez, you can pass everything else too, if you passed English!'

Sanchez shook his head regretfully. 'No I can't. I would've needed your help.'

Tony sighed. 'Listen, try and read the explanations and look at the examples for your math, and you'll do ok. Are you alone now?'

'Yep, now I am. Wander who's coming.' He looked gloomy at the thought. 'You gonna speak to Perez tomorrow?'

Tony nodded. 'Yeah, if it's not raining.'

He exchanged nods with Gonzales the following morning as he stepped into the yard, searching the area carefully for the other group of Mexicans. They stood in a group at the opposite end of the yard, a couple of younger ones obviously on sentry duty. He drew a deep breath and walked straight over to them, noticing their eyes on him as he approached.

'What do you want?' demanded one of them, stepping directly in front of him.

'I wanna speak to Perez,' Tony said, allowing himself to be patted down.

'He's clean. Why do you want to speak to Signor Perez? He is a busy man,' demanded one of the lookouts.

'He doesn't look too busy to me,' Tony was unable to resist adding, wishing he had kept silent a moment later when they glared at him.

'It's ok, let him come,' called an authoritative voice, and the thugs parted ways for him to approach a middle aged man, clean shaven, with an air of discernable authority about him. 'Come closer. Try anything; my men will slit your throat immediately.'

'I haven't got any weapons,' Tony said, leaning against the wall casually. 'I came to talk, that's all. My name is…'

'We all know your name, Antonio Almeida,' Perez said, amused. 'You were a federal agent who got sent down for saving his wife from some terrorista, who brought some virus into the country. They called it treason.'

Tony rubbed his face, unsettled at their knowledge. He gazed at Perez, surprised to find him laughing.

'You wander how I know these things. I got many friends who owe me favors, agent, and I like information. And now you're here for the rest of your life. Hardly fair, is it?'

Tony chewed his lip, agreeing with him. 'I deserve to be here,' he said finally, gazing at the ground.

Perez laughed again. 'The hell you do. Anyone comes near my wife, they die, and so does their entire family,' he said fiercely. 'If you really think you deserve what you got, why did you try to run?' He fixed Tony with a curious stare.

Tony shrugged, returning his gaze. 'Guess I just can't stand being locked up,' he admitted quietly.

Perez nodded. 'You're honest. So what did you come to discuss with me today?'

Tony lifted his gaze, looking Perez directly in the eye. 'I'll speak honestly, ok?'

'Do, I'm real sick of the gringos' roundabout ways,' Perez told him.

'Far as I can tell, you're Mexicans imprisoned in the US, a foreign country. I don't know exactly why you're here, but that's hardly my business. I only know that since I've been here there've been two stabbings, one fatal, each one a Mexican against another Mexican. It's wrong, it's wasteful. We're not outside anymore, we're all stuck in here, and life is hell already, without adding to it.'

Perez nodded silently, waiting for him to continue.

'Fact is, the Aryan brothers are the real winners of this eternal conflict,' Tony continued. 'Every time one of you gets sent to the infirmary, the morgue, or the SHU, they get stronger. Don't you notice the guards tolerate your stabbings? Why do you think they do? They want you to get weaker. And you guys play right into their hands, like puppets on a string.'

'Watch it, agent,' Perez warned, in a dangerous tone.

Tony nodded, taking a deep breath. 'I didn't come here to offend you, Perez. I came to discuss a truce, just while you guys are all inside. That way you'll all make it, you'll be stronger, and you'll piss Supervisor Lee off!'

Perez frowned thoughtfully. 'Gonzales would never agree.'

'He would, if you do too,' Tony argued. 'You're responsible for your entire gang, I understand.'

Perez nodded firmly.

'Then you and Gonzales would have to meet alone, to talk,' Tony continued. 'Just you two, just the bosses.' He hoped the compliment would boost Perez's ego.

'I can see why you pissed the authorities off so much, back at Cromdale,' Perez told him after a few minutes of silence. 'You insult everyone and don't give up, and you're right, too.' He pointed a finger at Tony. 'This talk would have to be on neutral ground, him and me only. I need to be sure he won't have his men stab me.'

'I'll be there, to make sure he doesn't,' Tony said, satisfied with his diplomacy. 'After all, he's got no reason to trust you either.'

Perez actually laughed. 'He shouldn't. Why do you care anyway, agent? What's in this for you?'

Tony stood straighter, folding his arms. 'There's nothing in it for me. I'm just real sick of your constant killings. Mexicans aren't like that.'

'You know any?' Perez asked him, watching him.

'Yeah, my father is Mexican, from the north, before you ask. From a real small town, where people were friendly, where there wasn't anyone like you.' He shrugged apologetically. 'We could walk to town and get ice-creams and play with all the kids and it was safe. That's my image of Mexico, not what you're all doing.'

The silence stretched between them until Tony wandered whether he should leave, before Perez spoke again. 'I know what you're talking about, agent. I also remember such a place.' He looked at Tony. 'You're a good man, Almeida. I'll trust you to sit through my meeting with Gonzales. Have you got a place in mind?'

Tony nodded, having given the matter a considerable amount of thought. 'Sí. The dining hall. It's a place we all go to, and it's open. You'll be clearly visible, yet you can discuss the situation in private, over dinner.' He glanced at Perez to see how he was taking the suggestion.

Perez laughed aloud. 'You're worth every US dollar they paid you agent, before they sent you down. You can certainly talk. Hell, you almost make it sound like some business deal in a five star restaurant! Ok, I'll be there.'

Tony found himself smiling back. 'Gonzales will be there too, at the back table on the left hand side. The guards find it harder to walk there. It's the most private table in the area.'

Perez nodded again. 'You're not wrong, Almeida. You should have been a diplomat, or a spy.'

Tony nodded grimly and took a step forward. 'Till tonight, then.'

'You're in a hurry, agent,' Perez remarked. 'Alright, tonight. It's not a business deal, after all.' They nodded at each other and Tony left, taking a deep breath once he put a short distance between them.

Whew! That was something! That man is as sharp as a razor blade. It's a shame he wasted his talents with crime. Almeida, look around you. It's a shame every one of these people wasted their talents.

His eyes searched the dusty yard for Sanchez, examining the individual groups of prisoners. Apart from the rival Mexican gangs there was a large crowd of Aryan Brothers, and crowds of individual prisoners who stood in groups. One man wandered the yard alone, speaking loudly to himself and stamping his feet. Tony's eyes rested on him for a few seconds before he caught sight of Sanchez, leaning against the wall, trying to look inconspicuous.

'Hi,' he said, joining him. 'It worked. We should go tell Gonzales.'

'Amigo, you're something else,' Sanchez told him proudly. 'I knew you could do it. Watch your back, though, those two Aryan brothers don't look like they've finished with us. They've been watching you as you walked back alone. I was getting scared there'd be a big fight again.'

Tony shook his head firmly. 'There won't be any more fights. I got a score to settle with one of them, but I'll do it alone, and not today. I've got to be present at this meeting tonight. Today we'll just have to lie low.'

The Aryan brothers passed close to them several times, and Tony was forced to work hard to prevent himself from punching the man who had spat at him. 'You two spics look a little lonely. Shame you were separated. Still maybe they'll put you in with us! We'd soon teach you how to behave!'

Tony turned his back, fighting to keep his temper in check. 'Did you hear that, spic? We'd take you apart, piece by piece.'

Tony took a deep breath and turned round. 'Listen carefully. You ever come near me, or him,' he pointed at Sanchez, 'and I'LL take YOU apart, and only a coroner could put your pieces back together.' He turned to walk away, fully expecting to have to fight after all, but Gonzales and the southern Mexicans arrived at that moment and the Aryan brothers left.

God I'm SO SICK of this place. Sanchez is right, sooner or later there'll be another fight, and guess who'll be blamed? Chewing his lip he joined the queue to return to the block.