Here’s what I know about prison tattoos: they’re almost always blue or black, since those are the easiest colors to make. The prison tattoo artist fashions a needle from whatever type of scrap metal is on hand: a paper clip, nail file, staple, nail, a bit of coat hanger, a piece of steel guitar string. Ink is usually fountain pen or ball point ink, but it can also be melted plastic. The artist usually puts the sharpened metal in a plastic holder like a ball point pen cylinder and attaches it to a small motor that causes the needle to move up and down. Once started, a hundred things can go wrong, ranging from misspelled words to hepatitis or AIDS.
On the bed in front of us, both Bernies had the letters T and S on their forearms.
“What’s the T and S stand for?” I said.
“Texas Syndicate.”
“You know anything about them?”
“One of the oldest prison gangs in Texas.”
“Hard core?”
“Very.”
Beyond the classic teardrops below the eyes, I wasn’t skilled at reading tats. Quinn, on the other hand, was fluent. I said, “What else they have to say?”
Quinn ripped their shirts off and studied the markings like an Indian scout reading a trail.
“See the fine lines and shading on the drawings of the women? Tells me these guys were inked by an expert. In the prison world, no one gets more respect than a skilled tattoo artist.
“Big deal,” I said. “What’s this other stuff ?”
“Prison tats are the first line of communication between inmates. A guy’s tattoos tell you the gang he’s affiliated with, his status in prison, the number of people he’s killed, the city or country he’s from, his marital status, number of children he’s fathered, the tragedies he’s suffered, his religious and political views.”
“Thanks for the lecture,” I said. “What are all these numbers?”
“The first part says they’re local,” he said. “Guy on the left claims he’s killed three people, guy on the right claims two. I believe them.”
“Why’s that?”
“You don’t want to lie with your skin,” he said. “Too many people want to kill you for it.”
“What’s the thirteen mean?”
“They use marijuana.”
“And you know that because?”
“The number thirteen stands for the letter “M,” thirteenth letter of the alphabet.” He pointed to the guy on the left. See the eight on this one? Stands for the letter “H.” Means he uses, or has used, heroin. Sometimes you’ll see a guy with an eighty-eight, which means “Heil Hitler.”
“Why do they want people to know they use drugs?” Alison said.
“It tells drug dealers that they’re buyers,” Quinn said.
“What are those numbers on their shoulders?” Alison asked, getting into it.
“Their prison I.D.’s.”
“That’s how we find out who they are?” she said.
Quinn smiled. “Exactly.”
I called Darwin, rattled off the prison ID numbers for him. After hanging up I said, “Darwin’s going to run the numbers and find out if there’s any connection between the Bernies and bombers.”
“And if there is?” Alison said.
“There won’t be. You approached Hector with this robbery scam, but Afaya approached you about getting his driver into your bus. My boss thought Afaya might be dealing with you here in Dallas, and in the other cities you work.
“Afaya did ask me about the other cities where I work. But he hasn’t said anything about putting his other relatives to work as drivers.”
“Not yet, but you can bet he will.”
“So what are you going to do, kill Afaya?”
“Darwin gets to make that call. But he’ll probably want you to go on about your work, business as usual, and he’ll put some people into your companies to keep an eye on things.”
“Am I supposed to help Afaya’s people get hired?”
“Again, Darwin’s call. But my guess is he’ll want you to get close to Afaya, develop a relationship, let him talk you into putting someone at most of your Park ‘N Fly’s.”
“What if I want to walk away?”
Quinn and I exchanged a glance.
“There’s no walking away at this point,” Quinn said.
Alison folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not going to sleep with a terrorist,” she said, indignantly.
“You will if you have to,” I said. “And you’ll give him the full treatment.”
“Once you guys leave, you won’t be able to make me do anything. I’ll get a new identity, go into hiding.”
“Alison, you’re in this up to your eyeballs. You’re going to help us bring down the biggest terror cell in America, and you’re going to do it for all the right reasons.”
“What,” she sneered, “Patriotism? A sense of duty?”
“That, and two hundred thousand dollars, tax free.”
“You’ll put that in writing?” she said.
“We don’t put anything in writing. But we’ll put the money in a locker for you and give you the key.”
“What stops me from taking the money before you kill the terrorists?”
“You won’t know the location of the locker until the job is finished.”
“What, I’m just supposed to trust you?”
Quinn said, “If you like, we could just kill you instead.”
“What a charmer,” she said.
Quinn bowed.
“There’s a more immediate problem,” I said. “The Texas Syndicate. When they find out what happened they’ll want to make an example of you.”
