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was just kidding about the shiv thing. You know, mess with the new guy and all that."
    I gave Jorge my most menacing look. He cowered back into the corner. Now, most people would not react well to being put into the ultraviolent, dog-eat-dog world that was a prison full of murderers and psychopaths, but hey, I'd killed a werewolf with my bare hands. I figured that I would fit in just fine here.
    "Say, Esteban," I asked over the shouting from the next cell. "Where are we?"
    "You don't know?" His eyes peeked out from under his mane of hair. I could tell he was a sharp one.
    "Nah...I was pretty worn out from chopping up all those people. You know how it is." If you have a rep, you might as well run with it.
    "You're in Tijira Prison. This, my friend, is a very bad place."
    "I've seen worse," I lied.
    "I'm sure you have. Me personally, I'm here because I avenged my wife's honor against the filthy tyrants, but alas, I failed. May God rest her soul," he said solemnly. Some of the thugs crossed themselves.
    "Sorry to hear that."
    Without skipping a beat he switched to English. "Naw, just pulling your leg. I'm from San Diego. I was flying coke across the border, got back to TJ, didn't have enough to pay the right people, and they stuck me in here rather than just shooting me. Some days I wish they would have just killed me and got it over with. These morons here think I'm Zorro or something so they leave me alone. If a Yankee wants to survive in here, you need a reputation, so I'll back you up, you back me up."
    "Good deal." I held out my hand. He reached over and shook it with a firm grip. "Owen Zastava Pitt."
    "Zapato? Like a shoe?"
    "No, Zastava. It's Serbian."
    "You don't look Serbian."
    In other words, I was way too brown. "I'm a little bit of everything." That much was true. I always checked the Other box on any official type forms. "Look, Esteban..."
    "You can call me Steve, the Esteban thing is for these guys." He nodded his head at the other criminals. "The story is that I shot it out with the cops and the army to avenge them burning my village or something. If you don't get respect in here, you don't last long."
    "Okay, Steve, my company will get me out of here. We're worth a lot of money, and can get the best lawyers. I just need to survive long enough for that to happen, so I appreciate the help. You scratch my back, I scratch yours, know what I mean?"
    "That's cool. I'm still waiting for trial myself. I haven't even been arraigned yet. I'm hoping I get my turn in front of the judge before too long."
    "How long have you been here?"
    He looked up at the ceiling as he gave it some thought.
    "Three years come June."
    A cold weight settled into the bottom of my stomach. "No kidding?"
    "No kidding. Welcome to Tijira."

    They had taken my watch, but I guessed that it was about 9 p.m. when the guards killed most of the lights in Section Six. Steve, or Esteban as the local fauna knew him, and I were still talking quietly, me to pass the nervous time, and him because I was the first other American he had seen in a year. The previous guy had lasted all of thirty minutes before somebody had decided they didn't particularly like gringos in their jail. Steve said that it had taken weeks for the bloodstains to fade. He was a nice enough guy for a prison-hardened drug smuggler, and talking to him sure beat talking to One Ear, Jorge, or Spider Web.
    "So, Owen, you got a wife?"
    "Nope, but I'm engaged."
    "That's great. What's she like?"
    I tried to make myself more comfortable on the bug-ridden cot. Since I was now the new boss of this cell, I got the luxury accommodations. Sometimes being a muscle-bound behemoth paid dividends. Poor One Ear had to sleep on the floor now. "She's awesome. Smart, funny, tough, brave. Her name's Julie. Julie Shackleford."
    "Is she hot?"
    "Dude...please."
    "Sorry, but I've kind of been in jail for a while," he explained. "It's been so damn long since I've seen a woman..." He trailed off. I just hoped that MHI