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ranged the room like a time bomb. Watching him confront people, I feared I’d be the one he’d explode on. He was gravitating towards me when the door opened.
    ‘Attwood, get out here! Stand over there!’ a guard yelled, pointing at a ledge down the corridor.
    ‘Sign here,’ said a woman behind a Plexiglas window.
    ‘What am I signing for?’
    ‘Charges.’
    ‘Good. It’s about time I found out my charges.’ I signed and she slid me a form:
    CONSPIRACY BOND 750000.00 CASH ONLY
    LEAD/ASSIST CRIM SYN
    ILL CONT OF ENTER-EM
    USE ELEC COM DRG TRN
    ILL CONT OF ENTERPR . . .
    ‘What’s all this mean?’ I asked, stunned by the size of the bond.
    ‘You need to go up there,’ she snapped.
    ‘Where?’
    ‘See the guard at that cell?’
    ‘Hold on. I’ve no clue what any of this means.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘These charges, and it says my bond’s $750,000 cash only.’
    ‘Lemme see.’
    I gave it to her.
    ‘Must be a computer error,’ she said. ‘It can’t be that high. It’s probably seventy-five thousand.’
    ‘I hope so,’ I said, easing up a bit but still dazed by the big number.
    ‘Go over there. The next cell.’
    Sweat and grime gnawed my skin as I urinated. I perched myself on the end of a top bunk. The cell filled quickly. The shock and bewilderment on the faces of the new arrivals abated as they shared arrest and crime stories heavy on police brutality.
    A tiny Mexican entered, his dilated eyes darting haphazardly. Yelling, he banged on the Plexiglas at such a rate the other bangers stopped to admire his ability. Hyperventilating, he cupped his left pectoral and looked over his shoulder as if expecting an attack from the rear. He must have swallowed his drugs when the cops came, I thought.
    A big bald man in a black T-shirt swaggered in, addressing the cell as if he knew us all. ‘I was on my way to Disneyland with my little daughter. They pulled me over for speeding. But giving me a speeding ticket woulda been too easy for this motherfucker. He ran my name, and a warrant came up. Thank fucking God I called her mom. He arrests me in front of my kid – now that’s fucking child abuse if you ask me! I’m supposed to be at my other kid’s birthday this weekend. I’ll be pissed if I miss her fucking birthday party. I hope this only takes two days. Awww fuck! I love my kids. Awww fuck!’
    Then an even bigger man, whose beard lent him the aura of a pirate, came in and said to the bald man, ‘Hey, Chad, they’re gonna try and ship me back to New Mexico. They’ve got a body, but they can’t link me to it. They’ve got nothing on me. Motherfuckers!’
    Much to my relief, Cody arrived. I climbed down and we hugged. We discussed our bonds.
    Chad interrupted our conversation. ‘You’ve gotta cool accent, man. Did you say you’ve gotta $750,000 cash-only bond?’
    ‘Yes, but they said it’s a mistake,’ I said, turning to Cody for support.
    ‘Lemme see your paperwork.’
    ‘Here you go.’
    ‘That ain’t no mistake, buddy,’ Chad said.
    ‘What do you mean it’s not? She just told me it is.’ I went dizzy.
    ‘Conspiracy. Crime syndicate. Were you guys whacking people or what?’ Chad asked.
    ‘No. They raided my apartment. There were no drugs found or anything.’
    ‘Well, you’ve got drug charges.’
    I’d been involved in drugs for so long, identifying which transactions they’d charged me for was as likely as raising $750,000.
    From outside, Wild Man banged on the Plexiglas and mouthed, ‘What’s your bond?’
    ‘It says three-quarters of a mill! What’s yours?’ I yelled.
    ‘Half a fucking mill!’
    His response torpedoed my plan to bond out. ‘Aw shit!’ I said, agonising over having to tell my parents. I knew the news would devastate them 5,000 miles away in England.
    ‘Get in this cell! Do you hear me?’ A guard grabbed Wild Man.
    ‘I’ve got it,’ Chad said. ‘You’re part of Sammy the Bull’s crew.’
    ‘I’m nothing to do with him,’ I said, not wanting to