Free Hard Case Crime: The Max by Jason Starr Ken Bruen Page B

thing I knew two cops were taking me away.”
    “It’s crazy in Greece,” Katina said. “They arrest everybody, no?”
    The prison wasn’t like any prison Angela had ever heard of. The officers who’d arrested Angela hadn’t notified her of any charges, or at least she didn’t think they had. During the ride over they were talking in Greek and the only parts Angela picked up were when they were commenting on her oreo megala vizia — big, beautiful tits — no surprise there. But, of course, Angela knew why she was being taken away. The cab driver on Santorini must’ve told the authorities that she’d boarded a boat for Lesbos and then the Lesbos police — Lesbian police? Jaysus, it sounded like somethingout of Greenwich Village, but that was probably what they called themselves — had been notified. They were probably just waiting now to coordinate with the Santorini cops. She didn’t know if they’d found some evidence that could hang her or if she was just a suspect by default. Not that it mattered. She’d heard enough stories over the years from her father about the Greek justice system. It was your classic, old-world, eye-for-an-eye, guilty-until-proven-innocent mentality. She figured she’d never be formally charged with anything. She’d be handed over to Georgios’ relatives and quietly killed, case closed.
    Fookin’ Sebastian. If he hadn’t run off like the coward he was, she never would’ve had to take that cab to the other end of Santorini. They would’ve ridden together on the moped and she wouldn’t be in this shithole right now. They hadn’t even let her make a phone call. Not that there was anyone to call. A lawyer would be useless and her family was even more so. Her mother’s side was all ex-IRA and her father’s side was as backward as Georgios’ family.
    “Do any of the guards here speak English?” Angela asked.
    “There was a young guy here last night,” Inga said, “maybe nineteen years old. He was hitting on all the women.”
    “He told one girl, if she give him blowjob she can get out,” Katina said as she casually reached out and held Inga’s hand. “He is like a teenage boy, his eyes jumping out of his head with so many beautiful women.He even offered to pay, fifty euro, keeps showing it, pulls money out of this belt tied round his waist. Keeps zipping and unzipping the belt, saying ‘Want what’s in here?’ Pig.”
    Angela thought, Bingo .
    Angela asked Katina, “When does his shift start?”
    The girl shrugged, said, “Night.”
    Angela looked around the cell, which was getting hotter and less comfortable as the sun rose. She said, “How do you pass the time in here?” and then got strange looks from the girls and thought, Uh-oh.
    Sure enough, by the time the scorching midday heat hit top level, the sun blasting through the bars, the other women, who hadn’t been wearing all that much to begin with, began unbuttoning their shirts, rolling up their sleeves, pulling off sweat-stained clothes. Angela watched one woman roll her tube top down to her waist and lie down on one of the cell’s two metal bunks. It was like a signal to the others — in minutes, all eight women had stripped down. The two girls who’d been in bikinis tossed their tops in a corner of the cell and sat down side by side in a patch of sunlight, one with her arm around the other’s waist. A very large Russian woman took off her blouse, revealing a skimpy bra through which Angela could make out a tattoo in the shape of an eagle across the woman’s breasts. Jaysus, this fookin’ Lesbos more than lived up to its name. Too bad Angela was straight or she wouldn’t’ve been in such a hurry to get out of this place.
    Inga lit another cigarette, inhaled deeply, then passed it to Katina. The Russian woman came over, started stroking Katina’s arm, kissing her neck. She looked at Angela, and purred, “You like?”
    Angela shrugged, moved to the water bucket, thinking, Whatever turns you on,