The Cost of Commitment - KJ2 (28 page)

Barbara put her hand on her friend’s arm. “She’ll be here. She loves you so much it radiates off her, Kate. You were both out of line. When she gets back you can talk through it. It’s a communication thing.”

“I was so busy I didn’t take the time to tell her what I was thinking about doing for Christmas, and then I just decided I would surprise her. It never occurred to me that there were any other possible scenarios. I knew that she hadn’t really celebrated Christmas much in recent years, so I guess I assumed everything would go smoothly.”

“The best laid plans and all that. And she assumed that you’d want to meet her family, despite everything.”

“Yeah.” Kate shook her head at that. “Why would she think that?”

“Because they’re her family, Kate, the only one she has. She’s proud of you and she wanted to show you off. Plus, there’s probably a small part of her that still wants her parents’ approval. And given their history, I suspect she thought she’d have an easier time facing her father with you by her side.”

“I still can’t understand why she would want to have anything to do with them.”

“Kate, have you said that to Jay?”

“Probably.”

“Every time you tell her how appalled you are that she would want to keep in touch with her parents, you send the message to her that, once again, she’s doing something wrong. That was a message her father fed her continually as a child. You don’t want to go there, Kate. It leaves Jay torn between a yearning to please you and her desire to maintain some sort of relationship with her parents.”

“I hadn’t really thought of it that way. All I’ve been thinking about is what I would do to him if I ever met him. The thought of letting him in the same room with her makes me sick.”

“I understand how you feel, but be careful, Kate. He’s her father.

Whatever else he is, he’s still her father.”

“An unfortunate act of birth,” Kate muttered.

“Do yourself a favor and don’t say that to Jay.”

Kate grunted.

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“You need to eat.” Barbara pointed a fork at Kate’s mostly uneaten chicken Sorrento. “And when’s the last time you had a good night’s sleep? You look exhausted.”

In truth, Kate hadn’t slept well in the two days since the conversation with Jay, and she didn’t think she would until she could hold her in her arms again and they could work through things. She had spent the previous evening shopping for presents, wrapping them, and putting them under the tree. It was a way to feel closer to Jay.

The sound of her beeper going off startled her. She looked at the clock. 7:00 p.m. on a Saturday night, six days before Christmas, no less.

Didn’t it just figure? Getting up and studiously ignoring Barbara’s complaints about their interrupted dinner, she went to the phone and dialed the command center.

The Cost of Commitment

he incident had begun an hour and a half earlier. It had started Tsmall, with some inmates in the D yard at Attica fighting with each other, but had escalated quickly. By the time Kate arrived at the office, Commissioner Redfield and the other members of the executive team were seated around the big conference table in the command center.

Several speakers were set up in the middle of the table, each connected to a live, dedicated telephone line inside the prison. This arrangement allowed the team around the table in Albany to hear everything happening on-site at Attica, located hundreds of miles away in the outskirts of Buffalo, in real time and to interact with the prison leadership.

“Report,” ordered Redfield.

A disembodied voice answered, “There are large numbers of inmates in all four recreation yards setting fire to every flammable surface. Picnic tables, garbage cans, you name it. It’s like a giant bonfire. All officers have been ordered out of all yards, and the prisoners are barricading the doors in A yard.”

Redfield, whose face was lined with tension, barked, “I don’t want to know that there are a large number of inmates, God damn it. I want to know an exact count.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get someone on it right away.”

“What’s the status of getting the rest of D block back to their cells from the mess hall?”

“That is in progress, sir.”

“Any issues there?”

“There are some fires being set on the various floors, sir. We’re putting those out as quickly as we can.”

“Where are we on locking down the rest of the blocks?”

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“We’re just waiting for dinner to be over, sir.”

“Get them back to their cells. Now.”

“We’re working on that, sir. Right now we’re trying to make sure we have enough manpower to supervise.”

“Get it done.”

“Yes, sir. Sir? I have those yard counts now.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“One hundred twenty-one inmates in A yard, one seventy-nine in B, two hundred twenty-one in C, and one hundred forty-four in D.”

Redfield did a quick calculation. “Six hundred sixty-five inmates.

Great,” he muttered.

For two and a half more hours they sat and listened to the sounds of the disturbance, periodic reports and orders being passed back and forth.

“They’re climbing the walls to the second and third floors from outside in the yard, using weight bars to smash in the windows.”

“Get the officers off the roofs, except for Times Square.”

“Yes, sir. We’ve got a meeting going on in A yard. They’re breaking into the officers’ station in D yard.”

Kate had received several phone calls from the local media in Buffalo so far about the incident, and minutes earlier, news of the riot had hit the Associated Press wire, which would no doubt blow the story open nationwide.

Kate had expected this, since any time the name Attica came up, reporters took special notice. In September 1971 a deadly riot at the prison had made national and international news. That event was very much on her mind as she devised a strategy to handle the media this time.

When she came back from her latest interview, the disembodied voice was saying, “They’re breaking windows in Times Square, climbing the walls, attempting to break the window frames to gain access. Right now they’re working in groups of ten to twelve at a time, taking turns.”

“Are the Elmira, Oneida, Collins, and Auburn CERT teams there yet?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Tell them to get the CS gas ready in case they break through into Times Square.” Redfield looked around the table. “This is no good.

We’ve got to go out there.” He turned to his deputy commissioner for operations, Randy Garston, a middle-aged career corrections man with a no-nonsense face. “Mobilize the Albany CERT team. Kingston and Medford are the leaders on the team, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I want them and their two best sharpshooters with us—that way we can strategize on the flight over there. Give the other eight team members a van, and get them on the road ASAP. Request permission to
The Cost of Commitment

use the governor’s plane. I want the following people on board in addition to the four CERT guys: deputy commissioner operations, assistant deputy commissioner operations, assistant commissioner special operations, public information officer, and me. Everybody go home and pack a bag. Bring several changes of clothes since I have no idea how long we’ll be there. Meet in the Signature terminal at the airport at 0300.”

Heads nodded around the table as the group began to disperse.

Kate made her way to her car. Calling out five corrections emergency response teams, or CERTs, meant the commissioner anticipated the possible use of force to end the uprising. The presence of these teams was certain to raise the alarm for reporters. It was going to be a long night. She wished more than anything that she could speak to Jay before leaving, but she still hadn’t heard from her and had no way of initiating contact herself.

On her way to the airport, Kate took a quick detour to Peter’s house.

He was, as she had expected, fully awake and dressed when she arrived at his door at 2:35 a.m. with Fred by her side.

He greeted her by saying, “I’ve talked to some of my contacts. It looks serious.”

“It is serious,” she answered.

“Albany CERT going out with you?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “Good men. I trained most of them myself.”

She smiled thinly. “In that case, maybe I should be worried about my safety.”

“Very funny, Spinmeister.” He looked at her hard. “All kidding aside, Kate, be careful out there. You might be walking right through the middle of everything on your way outside to hold press briefings, depending on where Redfield sets up shop. He tends to like to be near the action, so I suspect he’ll hole up in the sergeant’s office on B block just off Times Square. I don’t like it.”

She didn’t like it either, but outwardly she made light of the situation.

“You know what the sociology professors say, Technowiz. The inmates won’t harm the mouthpiece because that’s their only means of negotiation.”

“We don’t negotiate with inmates,” he answered dryly.

“I know,” she whispered confidentially, “but the inmates don’t know that, which is what keeps me useful and safe.”

“So they tell you. Thank you, by the way, for wearing a pantsuit instead of a dress. Trust me, you’re the nicest thing those boys have seen
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in a very long time. No point in tempting them more than they already will be.”

“Aw, Peter, they’re only murderers, rapists, and robbers. Why would I worry about a silly thing like my safety?”

He chuckled. “I can’t imagine.”

She looked at her watch. “I’ve got to get going. Take good care of my boy.”

“I always do. Fred and I sit around all day eating bonbons and having belching contests, you know.”

“Sounds like fun. I’ll be so sorry to miss that.”

“I bet. Have you heard from Jay?”

“Not since” —her voice wavered minutely—“the argument about Christmas.”

“Don’t worry, Kate. She’s probably just out of telephone reach. Some of those places on the reservation are pretty remote.”

“I know, and I hope with all my heart that that’s all it is, but—”

“Let it go, Kate. Jay loves you very much. She’ll probably already be here when you get back and you’ll have a terrific Christmas celebration on Friday.”

“If she calls you while I’m out of reach...”

“You have your beeper on, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sure she’d beep you if she couldn’t get you on the phone.”

“Yes, but just in case she can’t get me and she calls you...” Kate hesitated. “Will you tell her I love her? And that I’ll be home just as soon as I can?”

“Of course.”

As Kate turned to go, something occurred to her. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’ve been meaning to give you this.” She reached into her briefcase and pulled out an accordion folder filled to bursting.

“What’s this?”

“It’s all the stuff I’ve accumulated on the Breathwaite thing. I figure it’s safer in your hands than it is in mine. The tapes from his conversation with Wendy Ashton of AP and any physical evidence is in there, along with all of the press clippings, our timeline of events, suspected incidents he might have engineered, and our hypotheses of what he’s been up to and why. Also, I’ve added my own personal notes based on my interactions with the media, the governor, and Commissioner Sampson.

Finally, I’ve included a list of questions I still haven’t found answers to that might bring us closer to figuring out the endgame.”

“Why are you giving this to me now?”

She shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “Like I said, I’ve been meaning to give this to you for weeks, I just never got around to it.”

The Cost of Commitment

“And you happen to get around to it, as you say, as you’re on your way to the airport to fly into the middle of a riot? That’s convenient.”

She shrugged again.

“Kate, I know this is your first riot and you’re probably nervous. It’s okay. I’d have to have your head examined if you weren’t. You’re going to do great. Keep your head on your shoulders and don’t say more than you need to. You’ll be fine.”

“It’s just that people’s lives—potential hostages—could depend on what I say to the media. One wrong word and—”

“You’re too good for that, Katherine Kyle. I’ve seen you in action. I have complete faith in you. If I were a hostage, I’d be confident and comfortable with you out there in front of the microphones.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, friend. I needed that.”

“No charge,” he smiled at her. “Now go kick ass, and don’t take any prisoners.”

“Ha, ha,” she said drolly as she bent over to hug Fred one last time before walking out the door.

At 3:00 a.m. on the dot Kate stood in the Signature Air Terminal at the Albany County Airport waiting to board the governor’s small plane that would take them out to Attica. As the group assembled and walked out to the tarmac, she took note of the men around her. The four CERT

team members were dressed in full battle gear, CS tear gas canisters in holsters on their hips, silenced MP-5 submachine guns and shotguns in their hands, helmets and masks in their backpacks. Each of them, she knew, had been cross-trained in barricades and hostage rescue in addition to sharpshooting. They looked grim and determined.

The flight was mostly a quiet affair after the brief strategy session, the passengers either lost in thought or dozing in anticipation of the long stretch of sleeplessness that would surely ensue. Kate studied her surroundings. The governor’s plane was a small King Air turboprop with a custom blue and gold interior. Twelve seats faced each other, six on each side in the aft section of the plane, with two comfortable captain’s chairs up front.

Kate looked at the four men who would, if necessary, put their lives on the line at Attica that day. They were mostly young, all clean shaven, with strong physiques and rugged-looking faces. She thought about the type of mindset it must take to willingly put oneself in extreme danger in the course of doing a job. With a start, she realized that very soon, she would be doing the same thing.

She had instructed the superintendent to have the media cordoned off across the street from the front gate, off prison property and out of
Lynn Ames