CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

Gabriel surveyed the four walls of her cell, their cold concrete faces broken only by a small barred window on one end and an inauspicious barred door on the other. Down the hall, a mallard howled in his drunken stupor; beyond that were the usual sounds of an active police station in St. Canard. Someone out there was deciding her future, and Gabriel knew that future would involve a similar cell at the Calisota State Penitentiary. Smaller, most certainly, and probably with a gruff cellmate coated in tattoos with an overly friendly demeanor.

"But I didn't do anything wrong!" She shouted toward whoever could hear her. Someone nearby took it upon himself to respond to what had been a rhetorical statement.

"Suuure ya didn', sweethaht," oinked a rotund member of the police force, pausing at her cell door in the midst of his shift monitoring disturbances in the cellblock. "Jus' like ol' Bill here didn' go down to the Old Haunt, drown his sorrows, 'n' decide to pick a fight with everyone in the buildin'. Ain't that right, Bill?"

The drunkard made a miserable sound that was supposed to be fighting words, but in his inebriated state came out entirely unintelligibly. Instead, his outburst churned the contents of his stomach, and his last meal lost its battle with being properly digested. Gabriel flinched as yet another disgusting scent added to the building's funk. She cringed.

How had things turned out this way? The evening started out filled with drinking, boasting, and some petty robbery. There had also been a delicious fight with the Plasmas, a rival gang who insisted on expanding into her gang's territory. A brief street fight forced them to retreat into the shadowed alleys and side streets where they belonged. The night was her gang's, and they celebrated their victory.

All in all, a standard Tuesday night for Gabriel Noonan. She was among friends, doing what she wanted. That is, until a hated member of her own gang had to open her big fat bill.

Leadership changes tended to be peaceful, filled with tradition and the passing of a fabled handgun from one to the next. Amanda Hamton, on the other hand, did not like the slow way things changed. She had just started following the group as if she were a longtime member.

She arranged for Jared Hollen, the former gangmaster, to meet with a rival's boss. It was to be a monumental occasion, as the two groups would join and double the territory they ruled but something went wrong. At the very next meeting, Amanda was found with Jared's jacket and the handgun, threatening anyone who didn't agree she was in charge. A few days later, the newspapers ran a small story about a warehouse murder, and most of the gang knew what had happened. There had been talk about acting against her, but as she was the only one wielding a firearm, it was difficult to confront her.

Gabriel realized, though, that the time had come. There, in the streets out in front of the Fourteen Karat Jewel Garden, she made her accusations.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Hamton responded, taken aback by this sudden insurrection.

"You know what the hell I'm talking about! You're a traitor to the gang, Amanda. You had Jared Hollen killed." The expressions of the rest of the members supported Gabriel's comment, and she nodded, confidently.



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