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tooth fairy? Somebody in here recognized him and squealed to some other drug lord. That’s who wants King—­Colero out of the way. I don’t know what you’ve told yourself, but you’re obviously an easy sell. A fucking TV?”
    Quinn slammed his hand on his desk and stood up, pointing his finger in Lew’s face while his own turned red. “Watch it, Katchbrow! There’s a flip side to this coin. I testify that I saw you kill Colero. Maybe I plant some drugs in your cell. I hear they serve great meals on death row. For a while.”
    â€œFuck you. Go ahead, testify. Plant whatever you want. I’d love to have my day in court. Maybe my lawyer goes sniffing around your house or your bank account to see what other new, expensive goodies you’ve gotten lately. Maybe I talk to a few of Colero’s friends and tell them the real story. Hope you didn’t get the extended warranty on that piece of shit.”
    Quinn’s face went from red to bleach white. There was an audible click as Quinn’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He opened his palms and patted the air, apparently trying to calm the room’s sudden foul mood. He sat down in his chair and took a deep breath.
    â€œWe’re getting way off the beam, here. Let’s just calm down,” Quinn said.
    Lew didn’t say anything, but he sat back in his chair. Pushing was only going to get him so far.
    â€œYour freedom was on the table originally, and that’s what’s on the table now. Will you—­”
    A rapid, frantic knocking on the door cut Quinn off. He scanned the room, looking like a poker player caught with an ace up his sleeve. He grabbed Lew’s file and shoved it in a drawer.
    â€œYes, what is it?” Quinn called out. “Shit!” He grabbed the remote control and flipped off the paused fake murder, the game show returning.
    The door popped open and Rory Dupont, the assistant warden, stuck his head in.
    â€œBoss, the inmates have started a fire in Cell Block H. They’re threatening to riot over the shanking. We gotta call the state cops. Now!”
    Lew looked out the window and saw smoke rising out of one of the far building’s windows.
    â€œDamn it!” Quinn headed for the door. “It’s our house, we’ll handle it.”
    â€œWhat about him?” Rory asked, stopping Quinn and pointing to Lew.
    â€œLeave him here. Give me a set of those cuffs.” Quinn handcuffed Lew to the chair that was bolted to the floor. Lew didn’t know if it was to keep Lew the prisoner from getting away; or Lew the weapon from being hurt in the blossoming riot. He looked outside again and knew he really didn’t care. “Let’s go!”
    Quinn ushered Rory out of the office and as he was leaving said: “Think about what I said, Lewis. This could be a turning point in your life. Don’t blow it over details.”
    Then he shut the door and Lew listened to the muffled voices beyond the walls fade until he saw the men, armed with tear gas rifles, helmets, and billy clubs, head across the mud toward the smoking barracks, half of them trusties who looked like they wanted to run the other way.
    Lew stood up and stretched against the one cuff holding him to the chair until he could see out the window. Men ran every which way. It was pandemonium out there.
    That’s when he saw it. A reflection in the window. A shape he knew better than his own name. He turned around and saw that it was coming from the television, a news broadcast breaking into regular programming.
    A spinning graphic grew larger and larger, until it looked like it wanted to burst out of the screen. Two symmetrical curlicues on either side of a flattened vertical oval, looking for all intents and purposes like an insect.
    Like a butterfly.

 
    4
    Bogotá
    Sixteen years ago
    â€œB ABOSO!”
    Lew heard his nickname and stood up in his dressing room, which functioned