Free Green Light (Sam Archer 7) by Tom Barber

he heard a commotion next door, shouting and what sounded
like some kind of altercation, the guards turning and running out
to handle the situation.
    Watching
them go, Archer cleaned himself even faster, wanting to get the
hell out of here.
    But then
the room around him went quiet.

    At the
front gate to the facility, a Counter-Terrorism Bureau Ford was
buzzed in and pulled to an abrupt halt in an empty space near the
doors. A moment later, a member of the Department stepped out and
moved swiftly towards the front entrance, pulling open the front
door and walking towards the desk.
    ‘ I need to pull someone right now,’ the newcomer said, showing
his badge. ‘You’ve got a suspended police detective in here and
you’d better pray to God he’s still in one piece.’
    ‘ Wait a minute. You can’t just walk in here giving
orders.’
    ‘ Waste any more time and you’ll need a new haircut by the time
you wake up,’ the detective said. ‘Get him out now!’

    All
conversation in the block stopped. Archer hadn’t seen any kind of a
signal but it must have been pre-arranged. The inmates showering
around him suddenly withdrew like the tide pulling back, turning
and leaving the block without so much as a backward
glance.
    Three
remained behind. They were all Latino, big guys, members of the
gang who’d been using the weights in the yard. They were all
holding a bar of soap.
    And they
were staring straight at Archer.
    Glancing
to his right, standing against the wall and out of the direct flow
of water, Archer looked for the guards but they were nowhere to be
seen, no doubt still handling the situation next door. In front of
him he watched as the Mexicans used their large hands to push
through the white soap, a shiv becoming visible inside each
bar.
    Each one
was crude but wickedly sharp, soap clinging to the tips and
blades.
    The men
looked at him silently, Archer standing there outnumbered three to
one.
    The only
sound was water splashing onto the tiled floor.
    At six
foot and a hundred and eighty five pounds Archer was well-built but
he knew he wasn’t a physical match for these men. He never went
looking for trouble, although well able to take care of himself; he
was also a man who’d spent the last few years of his life forced to
make split-second decisions to kill or be killed. That was the
reality of what he did for a living.
    And as
he stared back at the three gang members intent on ending his life,
he knew that if he was going to have any chance of surviving this
he would have to match these guys for violence and
brutality.
    His back
against the wall, he focused on the Latino standing in the middle,
who appeared to be the ringleader. As Archer watched him, the man
glanced towards the fat, tattooed guy on his right.
    That was
all it took.
    The
inmate who’d been given the signal suddenly rushed forward and
stabbed upward viciously, aiming the shiv for Archer’s gut with his
considerable strength behind it. Reacting fast, Archer stepped
forward before the arm could gain momentum, tucking his stomach
back as far as he could and using his left forearm to block the
man’s arm before it could make contact, the two bones thudding
painfully on impact.
    The guy
was far stronger than Archer but in that enclosed space, technique
could even the odds. As he stopped the arm, Archer immediately bent
and then twisted the man’s elbow around, using him as a human
shield from the others, but as he glanced at the other two he knew
that wouldn’t make any difference.
    Pushing
the man’s arm up hard, the guy yelled and his grip on his weapon
loosened. Archer grabbed the shiv from the man’s opened palm and
thumped it into the guy’s shoulder blade just as the other pair
rushed him.
    As the
man shouted in pain, Archer pushed his bulk directly at one of the
two men, keeping his grip on the shiv and withdrawing it from the
guy’s shoulder, blood running down the handle and onto his fist.
His attacker collided with one of his