Leopard's Baby

The smallish, white woman collapsed in front of Tammy, breathing heavily. The rancid odor of fear and perspiration emanated from her body. She had a black eye, a split lip, a tear-streaked, dirty face, and her top was torn down the front from her neck to nearly her navel. Her bra had been ripped apart in front. She used her arms to keep her breasts from being exposed. Two members of the Aryan women, who’d been chasing her, disappeared into the crowd which was growing around them.

“What’s your name, honey?” Tammy asked the woman.

“Belinda,” the sobbing woman replied. “They was gonna strip me naked, bash my face in, and make me run around the yard. They said I had to lick Gretchen’s asshole clean after she took a dump, and I didn’t wanna. Other girls said you protect people from her. Can you help me? Beat her up and tell her not to pick on me no more?”

“I’m not going to start a fight with anyone,” Tammy said. “If you want to hang out around here, feel free. None of us will bother you.”

“Shit girl, how many strays you gonna take in?” Diamond asked as she came over with a basketball under her arm. She waved her arm at the crowd surrounding them. “They all over the place now. Gotta be at least twenty of the bitches. We got a game going on. You was about to run anyway. If they was to attack while you ain’t here, we ain’t gonna stop the game to protect her honky ass.”

“They won’t do anything out in the open like this,” Tammy said as she started doing her stretching. “Not with this big a crowd. Having a lot of people around while you’re playing protects you also, Diamond. You’re not getting hassled like you did before I got here. You get to show off your skills, too. I know you like to do that. I see a guard is headed our way. You want to report this Belinda?”

“No fucking way!” the woman said. “That would get me killed for sure.”

“What happened here?” the guard asked. “Your clothes are all ripped and you look like you just had the shit beat out of you. Need the doctor?”

“No ma’am,” Belinda said. She bit her lower lip. Her brow furrowed. She rubbed her tears away with her left hand, but smearing some of the dirt in the process. After a pause she said, “I was running, not looking where I was going, and I tripped and fell. Banged up my face and ripped my clothes. I’d sure appreciate more clothes.”

“Bullshit!” the guard said. “I hate this fucking ‘code of silence.’ Will you ever learn it’s not in your best interest? Silly question. If you were smart you probably wouldn’t be here. If you’re not going to report it, there’s little I can do. C’mon. We’ll get you some clean clothes. It’ll be charged to your account.”

***

“Would please relax, Fred,” Olivia said to Fred Caronelli, the man who’d created new identities for Tammy and Brendan. She rubbed the side of her head. “Your nervousness might cause people to notice us. Exactly what you wanted to avoid.”

Olivia and Caronelli were meeting in a crowded coffee shop. They were seated at a small, round table with their heads practically touching. They each had a cup of coffee. Caronelli also had a bear claw. He’d gobbled half of it as soon as he’d sat. Crumbs were scattered around the table and on his face. Caronelli had jolted forward when another customer brushed by, barely touching him, and his head had banged into Olivia’s.

“I told you we shouldn’t meet in public,” Caronelli said. His head swiveled from side to side and he kept licking his lips. He tried to pick up his coffee, but his hands were shaking. Some of the coffee spilled when he touched the cup to his mouth. He put it down without actually drinking any.

“You’ve probably heard this cliché before,” Olivia said. She used one hand to take a napkin and sop up the spilled coffee while putting her other hand on his forearm in an attempt to calm him down. “The best way to hide a needle is not in a haystack. It’s with other needles. Nobody in this place is paying any attention to us. Let’s keep in that way. Take a deep breath. Think of the money I’m paying you. I’ll get you another bear claw and more coffee.”

“Thanks,” Caronelli mumbled when Olivia returned. He took a large bite of his new pastry. He’d finished the first one and the remnants of his first cup. He sipped at his new drink. His hands were steadier and nothing spilled.

“Are you ready to talk business?” Olivia asked.

“Yeah. What do you need?”

“I want a fresh identity for this woman,” Olivia said. She handed him a picture of Megan. “She’s about twenty-three, five-foot seven, blue eyes. Give her an Illinois driver’s license with an address somewhere in Chicago. Can you do that?”

“Of course,” Caronelli said in a tone that indicated he felt insulted she should doubt him. He named a price higher than he’d charged for Tammy’s new identity, and defended the new price by saying, “I gotta do some research. I don’t get much call for Illinois stuff.”

Olivia grimaced and said, “I’ll pay what you ask, but I need some information also.”

“What?”

“I’m looking for a forger who could not only create a false document, but could also plant someone else’s fingerprints on it. Do a good enough job to fool an FBI expert.”

“I’ve never done that!” Caronelli said defensively. “It wasn’t me!”

“Could you do it?”

“Well… yeah. If I had a copy of the prints. I can’t just create them.”

“Do you know others who could?”

“I’ve heard a few names. The only ones I know personally are people who work for the Feds. There’s a shitload of people who work for the CIA who can, but I can’t tell you their names.”

“What about these?” Olivia asked. She handed him a list of names she’d culled from the collection of Covington’s criminal clients the Mossad had obtained for her.

Caronelli studied the list. “I don’t know everyone here. None of the guys I do know are good enough.”

“You’re sure?” she asked. Shit, she thought. I was hoping he’d narrow it down to a few. “Could you at least point out the ones you know for sure couldn’t do it.”

“I guess I could do that,” Caronelli said. He took out a pen, went through the names again, and placed check marks in front of several of them. He was about to place a mark by one name and stopped. He placed his finger on the name and said, “This guy. He couldn’t do it himself, but he’s a fixer. For the right price he could find someone who could do just about anything.”

“Manny Sebaro,” Olivia said, reading the name. “Could he arrange a hit? Inside a jail or a prison?”

“That son-of-a-bitch could arrange to have the Pope whacked.”

***

The tension in the air was palpable as Gretchen Shultz and two of her Aryan Women lieutenants met with “Big Bertha” and two other members of her gang, known as the Black Avengers. Nobody among the prisoners knew Big Bertha’s real name, but she lived up to her nickname­–six feet, two inches tall, two hundred and fifty pounds. She had coal-black skin, a pock-marked face, and her hair in a frizzy Afro. The two gangs hated each other and had skirmished on multiple occasions, but had never met in all-out warfare. Although their respective leaders had known each other for years, and had shouted insults across the prison yard, this was the first time they’d ever spoken face-to-face.

“We got us a common problem,” Shultz said.

“You bitches be our big problem,” Bertha responded. “Ain’t nothing else we can’t handle our own selves.”

“How you doing with Tammy Roberts?” Shultz said with a sneer. “Not so great we hear tell. She fucking up your action.”

“White bitch be one of yours. Just one more mess we thanks you for.”

“Not one of ours,” Shultz countered. “She gets in our way more than she gets in yours. She’s white, but she might as well be black. Hangs with all the Niggers.”

Bertha snarled and stepped toward Shultz. Her two companions blocked her. “Let’s hear the honky bitch out, Bertha,” one of them said. “You said last night we gotta do something about Roberts. You saw what she done to Lulu and Agnes when they jumped on old scar-face. She’s been here about five months. In that time our control of the black prisoners almost disappeared, thanks mainly to her. Maybe working with this whitey cunt we can take care of her.”

Bertha contemplated her subordinate’s words. “Okay, fuck-face,” she said to Gretchen. “Say your piece.”

“The bitch works in the kitchen,” Shultz began. “Cleans up after dinner. Usually the last one out. Smells like a nig… like a sewer. Always takes a shower when she’s done. Uses that shower room right next to the kitchen. We go in. Block the door with one of them big freezers, take five people to move. She can’t get out. We know she’s strong, but if there’s six of us we can take her.”

“You mean ace her?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Why you need us?” Bertha asked suspiciously. “If you want six you can get six ofay bitches. If you planning to set us up and take us out, I tell you now, it ain’t gonna work.”

“If six Aryan Women get spotted headed toward the kitchen late, and Roberts winds up dead, who you think gonna get blamed?” Shultz said while thinking, If something goes wrong I’ll see if I can put it on you. If it works we get the payoff. Can’t tell this Nigger cunt about that. She’d want a cut. Aloud, she said, “Same with the Black Avengers. But if three whites and three blacks get seen, nobody gonna believe we working together.”

“Maybe you right,” Bertha said after a pause. She glanced at her companions. One nodded. “Okay, we meet outside the kitchen about an hour after evening meal over.”

“See that this stays between the six of us,” Shultz said.

“Don’t trust your own people, do you?” Bertha said and smirked.

“That’s right,” Shultz responded. “And I sure as shit don’t trust yours. Every bitch in this joint would do anything to get her sentence reduced. If you think otherwise, you a bigger fool than I thought.”

“You may be right,” Bertha conceded. She hesitated, rubbed her lower jaw, glared at Shultz with narrowed eyes, and said, “Can’t do no harm to keep it just between us.”

***

“I got accepted to the University of Delaware graduate school yesterday,” Jeremy Huffman said to Tammy. They were conversing over phones while being separated by a thick, glass panel.

“That’s great, Jeremy,” Tammy said, meaning it. “I always knew you had it in you. In a few years you’ll get your Ph.D. and I’ll be calling you Dr. Huffman.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you. I’m waiting, hoping anyway, for the day when you can join me there. Or maybe go to a nearby school. I chose Delaware because it’s close to you. I want to be handy for you when you get out. It seems so unfair that I’ll graduate before you, when you’re the one who tutored me through those tough courses. I’d never have made it if it weren’t for you. And if it wasn’t for me maybe you wouldn’t even be here.”

“I told you before, don’t blame yourself,” Tammy said. She put her left palm on the glass window. Jeremy put his right palm over hers on his side of the glass. “Jennifer outsmarted me. Don’t sell yourself short, Jeremy. You’re bright. Probably smarter than you realize. You would’ve figured it out. I’ve seen how you persevere when you’re stuck. As far as joining you goes, don’t count on it. Ex-cons are not exactly welcomed with open arms at first-rate graduate schools. But I’ll be sure to look you up. What I’ll do after that I’m not sure right now.”

A guard came over and told them time was up. They both made kissing faces as they hung up. Jeremy had accomplished what he most wanted. He’d informed Tammy where he’d be if she had to serve until the following September, or later, and she needed to get the items her mother had told her about.

***

“There’s still meat left on that shank bone, Tammy,” the cook said as she removed her apron, took off her hairnet, and put away her cooking utensils in preparation for leaving. A guard came over and locked the cabinet where the utensils were stored.

“Thanks, Marta,” Tammy replied. “I’ve been eyeing it.”

“I can’t believe how much meat you eat,” Marta said admiringly. “You’re worth it, however. I try to make a little extra for you. You’ve been working here almost two months and it’s a pleasure to come in the next day and find everything spotless. Before you I had to spend the first hour of every day finishing the cleaning. See you tomorrow.”

“See you Marta, see you Connie,” Tammy said. The last was to the guard accompanying Marta.

Grateful for being alone at last, Tammy finished scrubbing the pots, pans, and grill. She picked up the shank bone with her hands and began gnawing on the meat. It was a ham bone, something she normally would’ve avoided, being Jewish, but her leopard craving for meat overrode her nominal religious preference. She wasn’t particularly observant anyway. Between getting extra food, scrubbing in the kitchen, and running in the yard, she was in great physical shape.

After getting all the meat Tammy broke the bone, sucked out the marrow, and threw the rest into the garbage. She stretched, sniffed her armpit, and wrinkled her nose in distaste. She glanced at the clock. Over an hour until curfew. Time for a leisurely shower. As she walked toward the shower room, she threw her clothes on the floor. She was naked as she stepped into the room, flipped on the lights, randomly chose the showerhead farthest from the door, and turned the water on. She soaped her body and hair and rinsed off, luxuriating in the warmth of the hot water and being by herself. Then she heard a noise.

Six people were in the room with her. Tammy was surprised to see Big Bertha and Gretchen Shultz apparently working together. They’d pushed in one of the big portable freezers and used it to block the door. They each had a homemade knife.

“You don’t want to do this, ladies,” Tammy called.

“Yeah, we do,” Shultz replied. “Kiss your ass goodbye you meddlesome twat. We gonna make it real slow. First we gonna cut your tits off. Then we gonna cut open your belly and strangle you with your own guts.”

Tammy grinned. She’d been locked up for nearly six months and was finally given the opportunity to get rid of a whole lot of pent up frustration.

“What the fuck you smiling about, bitch?” Bertha asked. “Didn’t you hear what we gonna do?”

Tammy changed. The sudden appearance of a black leopard was terrifying to the others. Two of them wet themselves, shrieking in horror. Three others ran for the door, but didn’t work together, and couldn’t move the freezer. Only Bertha stood her ground, brandishing her knife. Although she outweighed the leopard by more than a hundred pounds, she couldn’t match the animal in either strength or speed. In an instant the leopard was on her. Razor sharp claws ripped open her abdomen and her entrails tumbled out. She fell to the ground, screaming.

The knives proved to be useless. None had any silver in them, so even though the attackers attempted to stab the leopard multiple times, they were unable to penetrate her hide. Trapped by the freezer they themselves used to block the door, they had no escape. The leopard ran from inmate to inmate, keeping them away from the door, as she ripped them to pieces with her claws and teeth. It took less than three minutes before all the gangbangers were dead.

The leopard, covered in blood, growled, and went from body to body, making sure none was alive. She changed. When she got her breath back Tammy examined the scene while she listened for anyone approaching. Apparently the noise of the battle had not escaped the enclosed shower room. She took one of the knives and cut the bodies in ways that would obscure the fact that they were killed by a large cat. She wiped her fingerprints off the knife. Then she went back to the last shower, where there was no blood on the floor, and thoroughly washed all the blood off her body and hair. Finally she wiped remnants of blood off the freezer.

Being careful to avoid tracking blood into the kitchen, Tammy moved the freezer away from the door and back into its original place. There were traces that it had been moved, but moving one of the portable freezers was not that unusual an activity for the kitchen staff. Tammy made sure all signs of a battle were limited to the shower-room, got dressed, and headed back to her cell.

She felt no remorse about killing six people. After all they were trying to kill her. Besides which, cats were amoral.