Free The Green Mile by Stephen King Page A

its own accord. And if you slug a connected man like Percy Wetmore once, you might as well just go right on slugging, because there’s no going back.
    â€œStick with it,” Moores said quietly. “That’s what I called you in here to say. I have it on good authority—the person who called me thismorning, in fact—that Percy has an application in at Briar, and that his application will be accepted.”
    â€œBriar,” I said. That was Briar Ridge, one of two state-run hospitals. “What’s this kid doing? Touring state facilities?”
    â€œIt’s an administration job. Better pay, and papers to push instead of hospital beds in the heat of the day.” He gave me a slanted grin. “You know, Paul, you might be shed of him already if you hadn’t put him in the switch-room with Van Hay when The Chief walked.”
    For a moment what he said seemed so peculiar I didn’t have a clue what he was getting at. Maybe I didn’t want to have a clue.
    â€œWhere else would I put him?” I asked. “Christ, he hardly knows what he’s doing on the block! To make him part of the active execution team—” I didn’t finish. Couldn’t finish. The potential for screw-ups seemed endless.
    â€œNevertheless, you’d do well to put him out for Delacroix. If you want to get rid of him, that is.”
    I looked at him with my jaw hung. At last I was able to get it up where it belonged so I could talk. “What are you saying? That he wants to experience one right up close where he can smell the guy’s nuts cooking?”
    Moores shrugged. His eyes, so soft when he had been speaking about his wife, now looked flinty. “Delacroix’s nuts are going to cook whether Wetmore’s on the team or not,” he said. “Correct?”
    â€œYes, but he could screw up. In fact, Hal, he’s almost bound to screw up. And in front of thirty or so witnesses . . . reporters all the way up from Louisiana . . .”
    â€œYou and Brutus Howell will make sure he doesn’t,” Moores said. “And if he does anyway, it goes on his record, and it’ll still be there long after his statehouse connections are gone. You understand?”
    I did. It made me feel sick and scared, but I did.
    â€œHe may want to stay for Coffey, but if we’re lucky, he’ll get all he needs from Delacroix. You just make sure you put him out for that one.”
    I had planned to stick Percy in the switch-room again, then down in the tunnel, riding shotgun on the gurney that would take Delacroix to the meatwagon parked across the road from the prison, but I tossed allthose plans back over my shoulder without so much as a second look. I nodded. I had the sense to know it was a gamble I was taking, but I didn’t care. If it would get rid of Percy Wetmore, I’d tweak the devil’s nose. He could take part in his execution, clamp on the cap, and then look through the grille and tell Van Hay to roll on two; he could watch the little Frenchman ride the lightning that he, Percy Wetmore, had let out of the bottle. Let him have his nasty little thrill, if that’s what state-sanctioned murder was to him. Let him go on to Briar Ridge, where he would have his own office and a fan to cool it. And if his uncle by marriage was voted out of office in the next election and he had to find out what work was like in the tough old sunbaked world where not all the bad guys were locked behind bars and sometimes you got your own head whipped, so much the better.
    â€œAll right,” I said, standing up. “I’ll put him out front for Delacroix. And in the meantime, I’ll keep the peace.”
    â€œGood,” he said, and stood up himself. “By the way, how’s that problem of yours?” He pointed delicately in the direction of my groin.
    â€œSeems a little better.”
    â€œWell, that’s fine.” He saw me to the