Stuart Woods - Heat

Atlanta Federal Prison swam slowly out of the smog as

Jesse walked into the punishment cell, and the door was

Jesse had trouble climbing the stairs to the roof, because

Barker took a seat at the opposite end of the

Jesse sat at the dining table of a twelfth-floor suite

Jesse stood at the bathroom sink and looked at himself

Jesse found what he wanted at the third car lot; it

Jesse walked down the main street in the early morning

Pat Casey strolled into the police station, walked over to

Jesse strolled down Main Street, taking stock of the town.

Jesse pulled up in front of the house and gave

Jesse packed his things, then checked out of the motel

When Jesse woke there was a gray light in the

Jesse washed his dishes, dried them and put them away.

Jesse barely made it to work on time.

As Jesse walked up the front steps of the house

Pat Casey got out of his car and walked toward

Jesse had been at St. Clair Wood Products for nearly a

Jesse sat on the hood of his truck, which was

Almost as soon as Jesse had begun to operate the

Kurt Ruger picked up Melvin Schooner at the motel and

Jesse stood by the truck and looked at the First

The four men arrived separately in Seattle: two at Seattle-Tacoma International

Jesse left work on Monday afternoon and drove into town.

Hes made you, Kip Fuller said.

Jesse sat and stared at the machine.

Jesse stood at the kitchen counter opening the wine while

Jesse spent an entire day photographing the Wood Products plant,

As Jesse was loading Jennys car for the trip to the

Jesse left the hotel at eight oclock the following morning,

Pat Casey sat in Kurt Rugers office at the bank

Jesse had been back from New York a week when

Jesse had been regularly attending Sunday morning services at the

Jesse thought for several days about what he had seen

Jesse gulped.

They went to a Christmas morning service at the church

They were married on the Sunday after Christmas, in a

Jesse spent an hour at the office, making a list

Jesse was leaving his office on Wednesday, two days before

Jesse woke up feeling elated.

Pat Casey stood on the path and looked down into

Jesse spent half an hour going through the suite at

On their first day in San Francisco they walked.

Jesse and Jenny arrived home late on Sunday evening, exhausted

Jesse went back to the office and spent the morning

Jesse waited until the end of the week before he

On Sunday afternoon after lunch, Jenny was helping Carey with

The fax arrived on Tuesday morning.

Jesse arrived at Washington National at seven in the evening.

Jesse drove slowly down Argyle Terrace, then back again, casing

Jesse sweated National airport, even though he had told Kip

Jesse arrived at the office the following morning to find

Saturday was Jesses first whole day with Carrie in more

Jesse pored over the charts until midnight, then he began

At lunchtime on Tuesday, Jesse made what he was sure

Wednesday.

Jesse arrived precisely on time and was shown into Coldwaters

Ruger had been at it for half an hour, and

Jesse drove slowly down the long driveway, and, at the

Jesse thought as he fell.

At dawn Jesse was yawning, trying to stay awake.

Fifty miles out of Las Vegas, Jesse tuned in the unicom

The door slammed behind Jesse, and he turned to see

Jesse stopped into the village post office for his mail.

A tlanta Federal Prison swam slowly out of the smog as the helicopter beat its way south from Fulton County Airport. Kip Fuller was transfixed by the sight.

In his three years in law enforcement Kipling Fuller had never been inside a prison of any sort, and Atlanta held a place in his imagination on a level with Alcatraz and Leavenworthespecially Alcatraz, since that was a prison of the past, as was Atlanta.

Alcatraz was permanently closed, though, while Atlanta had been partly reopened to handle the overflow of federal prisoners. At its peak the prison had held a population of nearly four thousand, but the current number was closer to eight hundred. The prison had been a temporary home to Cuban refugees, Haitian boat people, Colombian drug lords and the occasional special prisoner. It was a special prisoner that Fuller would meet todayor, rather, meet again.

To avoid breaking the FAA regulation prohibiting flights over the prison yard, the pilot made a turn that took him parallel with the wall, a few yards out. They were at five hundred feet now, aiming for the big H painted on the prison roof, and Fuller could see into the yard. As he watched, two figures met in the middle of the open area, and the other prisoners immediately rushed to surround them, leaving a small circle free for the two men, who were now swinging at each other. At the outskirts of the crowd, uniformed guards could be seen trying to push their way to the center, but Fuller thought they werent trying very hard. He brought the microphone of his headset close to his lips.

Whats going on down there? he asked the assistant warden sitting next to him.

Thats your man, the official replied.

What, you mean fighting?

Thats right. Every time he gets out of solitary, he gets in another fight, and back in he goes.

How long has this been going on?

Fourteen months; the whole time hes been inside.

Jesus, Fuller said.

Jesse Warden sat on the edge of the examination table and watched through his swollen left eye as the male nurse pulled the thread tight, knotted it and snipped it off with the surgical scissors.

There you go, Jesse, the man said. How many stitches is that Ive put in you the last year?

Ive lost count, Warden said in his native hillbilly twang. It hurt when he moved his lips.

So have I, the nurse said, placing a large Band-Aid over the cut under the eye. Thats it, the nurse said to the guard.

Lets go, Jesse, the guard said. The guards didnt call him by his last name, as they did the other prisoners; Warden was a term of address saved for prison management.

Warden let himself down slowly from the table and preceded the guard through the door, trying not to limp. The guard gave him plenty of room; no guard had touched him since the first fight.

Fuller jumped down from the helicopter and followed the assistant warden across the prison roof toward a door; shortly they were walking down an empty corridor, their footsteps echoing through the nearly empty building.

Its kind of spooky, isnt it? Fuller said.

You get used to it, the AW replied. In the old days this place would have been full of noise, like any prison, but with the population out in the yard for exercise right now, its dead quiet.

Fuller followed the man through a door, across a waiting room to another door, where the AW knocked.

Come in! a voice called from behind the door.

The AW opened the door, let Fuller in and closed it behind him.

The warden stood up from behind his desk and offered his hand. J. W. Morris, he said.

Kip Fuller, from the U.S. Attorney Generals office, Fuller replied.

Ive been expecting you, Mr. Fuller. Have a seat; what can I do for you?

Fuller sat down and took an envelope from his inside pocket. You have a prisoner named Jesse R. Warden here.

We do, the warden replied.

Fuller handed the envelope across the desk and waited while Morris read the paper inside.