Read The Tower (1999) for Free Online

We were flying in a new recipe straight from Paris--that's in France, Cyprus--where they've been doing experimentation with escargot souffles. Unfortunately, the plane crashed, so you get to eat this shit again."
    "Fuck you, Greener--"
    "Greener, you asshole--"
    He smiled. "The choirboys speak."
    He placed a loaf down on Level Eleven and, extending the arm, slid it under the door of Unit 11A. Claude Rivers did not stir.
    "Here you go, Van Winkle. Try not to choke on it." He held the elevator control with its big red buttons in his left hand. It was a remote unit that could fit into a front pocket. "All right, here we go. More four-star dining. Looks like we'll be skipping Jonsten today." He shook his head at Spade as the elevator platform settled at Level Ten. "Spade, you sicko. Don't we feed you enough?"
    "Yeah, fuck you."
    "Well, it's good to see your vocabulary's expanding in here. I'll put in a good word to your parole officer--oh wait. That's right. You don't have a parole officer."
    Spade sneered, his curled lip rising until its wrinkles met those from his squinting eye. Greener looked over at Allander, who was lying facedown on the floor with the blue blanket draped over his waist. "Hey, Atlasia, you want breakfast?"
    No response.
    "Hey, junior, you want some food? Come on, I'll even let you eat with a sharpened spoon." No response. Greener knew that the prisoners sometimes lay like that to look at the man below--intimidating, hateful stares that lasted all day. It wasn't like Allander, he thought, but it wasn't that unusual either. "All right," he said. "Lie there and I'll get you on the way up."
    He pushed the big red button on the remote and the elevator's gears clicked, lowering him another level. "Hey there, Cyprus, ya big inbreed you. Sorry I couldn't bring you a distant cousin to enjoy, but how about a nice deep-fried fun loaf?"
    "I could have you killed the minute you step foot off this Tower, Greener."
    "Well, Billy Ray--"
    "I told you, don't you fuckin' call me that."
    "All right, Sir Cyprus. I'm sure you could have me killed, but unfortunately . . ." Greener surveyed the bleak steel walls around him. "Unfortunately, I don't see a pay phone around here anywhere. Or a quarter."
    Cyprus scowled and ran his palm over his chin. "And you're not due for a parole hearing . . . ," Greener said, checking his watch carefully, "for about two hundred and eighteen years."
    "Two hundred seventeen, six months, and four days or else when the good Lord Jesus comes to free the Master Race. And he won't be taking you along."
    "Now that hurts. I'm sorry to say it, Cyprus, but you're off my Christmas-card list." Greener checked his sheet. "Love to shoot the shit with you all day, farm boy, but I gots some grits to deliver." Smiling, he rode the elevator out of view.
    He grimaced at the thick odor surrounding Level Three. Mills was down on his haunches in the corner, his hands resting on the ground. Greener said nothing as he slid the loaf through the opening. He didn't watch as Mills scurried over to it, but he could hear him start to eat.
    When he finally reached Level Two, Tommy was ready with a complaint.
    "Greener, you gotta listen to me. This food's fuckin' killing me. It's hurting me, it really is. Cruel and unusual, eh? It's bad for a man's soul to eat like this. To eat this. Bring me one good meal. One plate of fusilli, sausage and tomato sauce with oregano and basil. I'll make you a rich man. You know I can. One plate, Greener, one plate."
    "I'm sorry, Tommy. Can't do it. But I did specially prepare this loaf for you. Unfortunately, I cut off the tips of my fingers making it, but you'll enjoy those, I'm sure. It'll remind you of old times."
    "You mameluke." Tommy wrung his hands as he paced his cell. "It used to be you could bribe a guard. What happened, the Democrats back in office?"
    "Sorry, not allowed to tell you. Remember, the 'no access to outside information' rule?" Greener glanced over at Safran, who was staring