Prisoners of the Williwaw (17 page)
Frank had to defeat Gilmore's motion to bring three hundred more to Adak.
It would be the last item on today's agenda.
He shook the water off himself and took off his parka.
It was Saturday and they had been on Adak for one week.
The old classroom smelled musty, damp like the room outside the shower in prison.
More ceiling had fallen during the week and now a foot square piece hung right over the council table, held up by a few threads of lathe wire.
Gilmore sat calmly at the table, waiting for the meeting, perfectly in control.
The damn guy.
He was using the democratic process to gain his own ends.
Baker and Muscoti had not arrived.
Fitznagel sat at the council table in the front of the room,
entertaining Big Jim.
"I move we shoot Blanche Carvinere."
"I move we have a contest," Big Jim countered, "The Biggest Prick on Adak."
From the back Doc shouted, "You win, Jim."
"Shut up, Doc.
I'm talking size."
"Oh, sorry, Jim.
You lose."
Frank sat down at the head of
the table and fingered the hammer. Their future would be decided by the likes of Big Jim and Fitznagel.
Was there any way to pry them from Gilmore's camp?
Doc's advice had been simple.
"Forget the vote, Frank. Just tell them we agreed with the Feds on more cons in March and if they don't like it, they can shove it up their wet asses."
Frank pulled out his handkerchief to wipe the damp table in front of him, but he forgot that his handkerchief was already soaked.
Judy had complained about a puddle of water that had collected on a windowsill in their apartment and he had wiped it up. In fact, he realized, his handkerchief had been wet all week.
Once he used it to dry an outdoor electric plug, once to mop water off his head, once to dry a table that sat too close to the door in the factory.
The whole week he had lived in water, from the fog on Monday with the old Aleut to the driving rain yesterday with himself running back and forth to the power plant.
Baker and Muscoti walked in together, a discussion still going on between them.
Frank heard his own name and Gilmore's.
"Meeting will come to order."
Frank hit the hammer hard and a few pieces of plaster fell onto the table.
Frank looked up nervously.
The large hunk of plaster swayed on its wires.
It was a good symbol for the issue of the next three hundred, he thought.
Let them come and the plaster would crash onto their council meeting.
He raised his voice.
Being loud was the only way to silence people like Big Jim - and Doc.
"First order of business is we got a fax from the Bureau of Prisons."
He ignored Fitznagel's raspberry and read the fax:
A reminder again that the Coast Guard is on active patrol around your island.
Last Monday morning in the fog Coast Guard Cruisers around Adak detected the approach of a kayak, paddled by an elderly Aleut man.
For some reason he ignored warnings to stop.
Rather than shoot him out of the water, the Coast Guard let him land and picked him up for questioning as he left.
Please know that any ship, boat, kayak or canoe seen leaving Adak will be dealt with immediately and without consideration.
Big Jim farted just as Frank finished reading.
Everyone laughed.
Frank pushed his glasses onto his nose. "The Coast Guard isn't kidding.
To them, a boat in the water is a prison break."
"Lighten up, Villa," Fitznagel said.
Boss Gilmore was smiling easily.
Frank next took care of routine business, reports to be sent back to the Bureau of Prisons, a report from Joe Britt on guns collected, requests for more money both from Miller for roadwork and from Nelson for plumbing.
The routine business made him feel good, like he was in charge, like work was getting done.
"The final order of business today is - " Frank took a deep breath, he could feel the shakiness in his voice " - Gilmore's motion to bring more prisoners here in November."
"Let's vote on it," Baker said.
"I'm tired."
Gilmore stood up.
Neat clothes, clean-shaven, clear diction - the man was good.
Frank knew this was his calm, businessman persona.
It was usually effective.
"I've given each of you a full report on this matter," Gilmore began. "All the reasons are there, the economy of scale, the need to kick-start our economy with a critical mass of people.
Today I want to make a plea for men and women in prison.
We all agree with Frank Villa that prison reforms nobody.
We're all grateful he convinced the government to let us come here, but we would be less than human if we kept this great benefit for ourselves."
Gilmore was playing for the 'intelligent' vote: Baker, Muscoti,
Wilson, Stokes. But Frank saw that Baker was looking at his watch, Muscoti eyed Gilmore suspiciously; Wilson's face twitched with some unknown concern and Stokes pulled at his ear, his brow knitted in a worried look.
If he, himself, wanted to win it, he could, but like an athlete he would have to strain every muscle.
Frank glanced at the audience.
Latisha sat in the back row, listening intensely, her dark eyes alive.
Frank felt a pang of longing, a desire to share his struggle with someone.
If only… if only Judy would show some interest in public affairs.
He had tried hard all week to be considerate of her and they had gotten along well, both emotionally and physically, but when he tried to explain to her the importance of today's vote, that's when she noticed the water on the windowsill.
Next to Latisha sat Jeannie, taking notes, her homemade Press badge pinned to her sweater.
Gilmore continued to address the council.
"I'm sensitive to Villa's concerns.
There is a need for limits. I'm proposing four landings of inmates and their families every year for the next five years.
That's 1200 people and their families a year.
We need numbers to make this place work."
From the back row Doc called out, "Let's see 1200 cons a year, each with $200.
$240,000 a year.
Not bad, Gilmore."
"Villa, do we have to put up with remarks from non-council members?
Are you going to assure us an atmosphere safe for democracy?
I'm sure if Doc was on my side, he wouldn't be allowed to speak out."
"There are no sides, Gilmore, but you're right.
Doc, the next outburst will be your last."
"Thank you," Gilmore continued.
"I'm just proposing we give other people a chance to come here.
We started Adak.
A government's in place.
What's the problem?"
Gilmore the humanitarian, Frank thought.
Give me a break.
"We can't handle the cons we have," Stokes whined.
True enough, Frank thought, but to jump in now would associate himself with Stokes' complaining.
Frank watched Muscoti glance around the table.
He was counting votes.
"Rodriguez," Muscoti asked, "what's your opinion on this matter?"
"I'm leaning toward Gilmore's position.
He's assured me there'll be a lot more Spanish-speaking next time."
Frank slapped the table with his hand.
A few more flakes of ceiling fell.
"Gilmore has no way of knowing if there will be more Spanish-speaking the next time. The way I hear it, the feds are going to send us some cons from their worst hell-hole, ADX Florence, Colorado, a super-max."
"Whoo-ee!" Big Jim exclaimed. "The real pros!"
"No. You mean the real animals," Stokes said.
"They call that place the new Alcatraz."
Gilmore pointed directly at Frank.
"You don't know that, about them sending people from Florence."
"I heard it."
"Frank's never been wrong," Stokes interjected.
"That's their pattern," Frank continued.
"Promise model prisoners and then send… we all know who they send."
"What do you think, Baker?" Muscoti asked.
"I say let's vote the mother, so I can get home."
Frank stood up.
Okay, Rudy, I need help here.
He had to give these men solid reasons.
He felt the adrenaline surge through him and he spoke with an emphatic voice. "I can't oppose this strongly enough," he began.
"We've made a start here.
We're building for the future.
We have to take our time and do a good job.
Right now we need to build a strong society for the first three hundred, then next March we get three hundred more.
"Gilmore has talked about a critical mass.
There's another critical mass we should be concerned with, the critical mass in atomic explosions.
Add a little too much Uranium 235 and wham…"
Frank clapped his hands together. A few more flakes fell off the ceiling.
Frank looked around the table.
Stokes and Wilson for sure.
Muscoti, if he figured he would be on the winning side.
It came down to Baker and Rodriguez.
To get Muscoti, he had to make it seem Baker or Rodriguez would go for him.
A tie vote was all he needed.
His vote would break the tie.
"Rodriguez, if you want more Spanish-speaking here, then we need to stand up to the Feds.
We need to tell them we set the criteria for who comes.
Right now they decide.
Asking for more prisoners on their terms is falling down on our knees in front of them.
"Baker, you think you work hard now.
Wait till the new prisoners get here.
Gilmore's plan doesn't leave enough time to prepare these new men, to tell them how we do things here.
They'll try to take over from us, to make us work for them.
"We're sitting here running things.
Call for more convicts without proper preparation and they'll come
-
with their gangs.
You know what they're like.
And who are they going to eliminate first?"
Frank swung his hand around the room.
"Us.
We go first.
I say defeat Gilmore's plan."
Frank glanced around the table and sat down. Baker yawned, while Rodriguez, Muscoti and Wilson looked thoughtful.
Gilmore stood.
"I'm surprised at Villa.
His arguments are undemocratic.
It's like we got something good, the hell with the rest of the world."
In the last row Doc let loose with a barrage of loud coughs.
Gilmore glared at him.
"Sorry.
I caught cold watching Gilmore's sea otters opening clams."
Frank wished Doc would stop - the danger was he'd push people into Gilmore's camp.
Gilmore went on. "There's no reason we can't tell the Feds we want a certain number of Spanish-speaking, a certain number of blacks as long as those numbers are based on a fair criteria like the percentages in federal prisons.
We're in control now and we're not going to give that up.
Villa is being an alarmist.
"I have one suggestion - we always vote by going around the table.
Why don't we vote in alphabetical order?"
The man was clever, Frank reflected.
Those against Gilmore's idea were at the end of the alphabet - Stokes, Wilson.
If he could get a number of yes votes at the beginning, it would look like a landslide.
Gilmore knew how to play the democracy game, all right.
The council debated the motion to call the role in alphabetical order.
Like all the legislatures Frank had read about, the key votes were procedural.
The world over, legislatures voted on procedural matters to test the house.
These were the key votes, but the public never knew it.
In the final vote, after legislators saw which way the wind was blowing, they could take whatever stand they thought would be politically beneficial.