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became dry and was okay. He told Foley they had dug down four feet and then out toward the fence, the tunnel a meter wide and a meter high. They worked two at a time in dirty clothes they kept there and put on clean ones before coming out.

      Foley said to Chino that Christmas Day, “If I caught on, how come none of the hacks have?”[30]

      Chino said, “I think they believe like you no one can dig a tunnel in muck. Or they don’t want to crawl in there and find out. They see us dirty they think we work construction.”

      It was that day Chino said they were going out Super Bowl Sunday, when everyone would be watching the game, six o’clock.

      But now they were going out five days early.

      “You finish ahead of schedule?”

      Chino looked toward the fence along the front of the yard, between the administration building and the gun tower close to the chapel.

      “You see what they doing, those posts out there?

      Putting up another fence, five meters on the other side of the one that’s there. We wait[31] until Super Bowl Sunday they could have the second fence built and we have to dig another nine ten days. So we going soon as it’s dark.”

      “During the count.”

      “Sure, and when they get the wrong count,” Chino said, “they have to start over. It give us some more time to get out of here. You want – I mean it – you can still come.”

      “I didn’t help dig.”

      “If I say you can come, you can come.”

      “I appreciate the offer,” Foley said, looking toward the fence and the visitors’ parking area just the other side, a few cars in the front row facing this way, not yards from the fence.

      “And it’s tempting. But, man, it’s a long run to civilization, a hundred miles to Miami? I’m too old to start acting crazy.”

      “You no older than I am.”

      “Yeah, but you’re in shape, you and little Lulu.” Foley winked at the queer[32] and got a dirty look for no reason.

      “I ever make it out and have no idea where I’m going. Shit, I’m fairly new here, still feeling my way through the system[33].”

      Chino said, “You do okay, man. I’m not going to worry about you.”

      Foley put his hand on the little guy’s shoulder.

      “I wish you luck, partner. You make it out, send me a postcard.”

      Some of the newer white boys doing time for drugs called home just about every day after noon chow[34]. There they were lined up by the phone outside the captain’s office. Foley went in to put his name on the list, came out and went to the head of the line saying, “Fellas, I got an emergency call I have to make. Y’all don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

      He got hard looks but no argument. These boys were fish[35] and Foley was a celebrity hard-timer who’d robbed more banks than they’d been in to cash a check. He gave talks at AA[36] meetings on self-respect, how to stay alive in here without taking too much shit.

      If you saw it coming, hit first with something heavy. Foley’s choice, a foot or so of lead pipe, never a shank[37], a shank was crude, sneaky, it put you in the same class as the thugs and hogs[38].

      A woman’s voice accepted the charge, Foley’s ex-wife now living in Miami Beach. He said, “Hey, Adele, how you doing?”

      She said, “Now what?” Not with any kind of attitude, asking a simple question.

      Adele had divorced him while he was doing seven years at Lompoc[39] in California and moved to Florida. Foley never once held it against her[40].

      They’d met in Vegas where she was working as a cocktail waitress in a skimpy sequined outfit, cut low on top and high up her legs, got married one night when they were both feeling good, and it was less than a year later he went up to Lompoc. They hadn’t even kept house, so to speak. A few months after he got out, Foley came to Florida and they seemed to pick up where they’d left off[41], drinking, going to bed… Adele telling him she still loved him, but please don’t talk about marriage again, okay? It made Foley feel guilty that he hadn’t been able to support her while in prison, and it was this feeling that got him sent up again. He robbed another bank intending to give Adele the entire proceeds – show her his heart was in the right place[42] – but was caught and ended up at Glades[43] doing thirty to life. But now he knew he’d be here at least four years before he was eligible for parole[44].

      He said to Adele, “You know that Super Bowl party? They changed the date. It’s on tonight, six o’clock.”

      There was a silence on the line before Adele said, “Didn’t you tell me one time calls aren’t monitored?”

      “I said not as a rule.”

      “So why don’t you come right out and tell me what you’re talking about?”

      “Listen to Miss Smarty Mouth,”[45] Foley said, “out there in the free world.”

      “What’s free about it? I’m looking for work. The son of a bitch, Emil the Amazing, fired me and hired another girl, a blonde.”

      “He must be crazy.”

      “Emil says I’m too old.”

      “Anyway,” Foley said, “the reason I called…”

      “I’m listening.”

      “It’s today instead of Sunday. About six, like only a few hours from now. So you’ll have to get hold of Buddy, whatever he might be doing…”

      Adele said, “And the one driving the other car.”

      “What’re you talking about?”

      “Buddy wants to use two cars.”

      “You said he might.”

      “Well, he’s going to, so he got this guy you know from Lompoc. Glenn Michaels?”

      Foley didn’t say anything, picturing a young guy who wore sunglasses all the time, even watching movies.

      He remembered the guy in the yard always working on his tan. Glenn Michaels. The guy stole expensive cars on special order and delivered them all over, even Mexico. Told stories about women coming on to him, even movie stars, but none Foley or Buddy had ever heard of. They called him Studs[46].

      “You met him?”

      “Buddy thought I should, just in case.”

      “In case of what?”

      “I don’t know, ask him. Glenn said he thought you were real cool.”

      “He did, huh. Tell Buddy I see this guy wearing sunglasses I’ll step on ’em. I might not even take ’em off him first.”

      “You’re still weird,” Adele said.

      “A quarter to six the latest. But don’t call him on your phone.”

      “You tell me that every time,” Adele said.

      “Will you be careful,

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