Up From The Deep Vaughn Jackson (book club suggestions TXT) 📖

A perky young woman popped in front of him as he approached the door. “Hi there! The next tour isn’t scheduled for another ten minutes, if I could have you wait right here until then.” She gestured at a sign that read “Line Starts Here” in peeling white paint.

“We’re not here for a—”

“Oh, thank you so much,” Brannigan said, pouring on all the charm he could muster. “My step-brother here is fascinated by Al Capone, so he’s a little impatient.” He turned to Devonte and winked. “Waiting for everyone to go in would be the better thing to do, right?”

Devonte narrowed his eyes and said, “Yes, I suppose so.”

The time passed quickly and before Devonte knew it, they were ushered into the prison building. Elise, their tour guide rambled cheerily about the history of the prison as they entered the main cell block.

“And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for,” she gestured at a cell separated from the main hallway not by bars, but by a thick sheet of plexiglass.

“Brannigan,” Devonte hissed, yanking on the captain’s sleeve, “it says the phone is straight ahead...behind the glass.”

Chapter 7

It took several hours for the crowds to clear out. The sun had gone down when they heard the tour guides saying their farewells and locking the prison up. When silence covered the establishment, Brannigan insisted they wait just a few minutes more.

“Can we please get out of this closet?” Devonte grumbled.

Brannigan grunted in reply and kicked open the rotting wooden door.

The two crept as quietly as they could back over to Al Capone’s cell. A see-through window separated them from the posh holding container. Brannigan looked around, then slammed against the panel as hard as he could. There was a slight groan, followed by a creaking sound, then a pop, but the door didn’t budge. Brannigan rubbed his shoulder, and Devonte realized that the pop had come from him.

“Did you just dislocate—”

“No, it does that sometimes.” The marine rotated his shoulder eliciting several more of the soft popping sounds. “See?”

Brannigan tried to rattle the cell panel, to the same effect. He sucked his teeth. “Got any ideas?”

“Do they have to involve brute force?” Devonte asked.

Brannigan rolled his eyes at the obvious sarcasm. “It might have worked.”

“Every door has to have a knob...somewhere.”

Brannigan gave a half-hearted look around. “All plexiglass, no brass handle.”

Devonte pulled out his phone. “Not necessarily an actual handle. I just meant a way to open it.” He scanned his phone around the perimeter of the glass, lingering over each brick for just a few seconds and muttering to himself. Just when he was considering changing his approach, the phone dinged. “There’s something here.”

Brannigan peered at the brick in question. “Huh, what do you know? It’s a bit of a different color than the rest.” He rapped a knuckle against it. “And also, plastic.”

It took a little bit of effort, but the Marine was able to wedge his combat knife behind the plastic casing and pop it off the wall. A black ID scanner flashed a light at them like a mechanical red eye, cold and unfeeling. Brannigan positioned his knife to jam it into the device.

“What are you doing?”

“Just gonna short it out so the door will open up,” Brannigan said with all the confidence of a man who’d done that very thing a million times.

“Does that work?” Devonte asked. “Ever?”

Brannigan paused for a minute. “Usually we have a guy who breaks into stuff like this, so I don’t think I’ve actually ever tried it.”

Devonte pointed at himself. “I’m your guy who breaks into stuff like this. And the answer is no, it won’t work. Ever.” He looked at his phone. “That’ll take too long.” He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a screwdriver which he handed to Brannigan. “They do teach you how to use these,” he asked, “right?”

“Nope. It’s all C4 and rocket launchers, asshole.” He snatched the screwdriver. “I’m looking for nails with this, right?” And for the first time, Devonte saw him give a genuine, if not snarky, smile.

Devonte’s laptop booted up. He scrolled through several applications. “No. No. No. There you are!” He reached into a side pocket on the backpack and pulled out a long cable.

Brannigan tossed the plastic cover to the scanner. It clattered to the ground beside Devonte.

“Plug this in.”

“No ‘please’?” Brannigan said.

“Thought you didn’t like the idea of working with a civilian,” Devonte said as he held the cable out expectantly.

Brannigan barked a laugh. “You’re gonna be a pain to keep track of in combat, but you’re not useless. I respect that much.” He took the cable and tied it into the panel’s wiring.

“That may be the nicest thing you’ll ever say to me,” Devonte mumbled as he double-clicked the device icon that appeared on screen.

“Count on it,” Brannigan said.

Devonte found it difficult to crack the code, especially with Brannigan leaning over his shoulder and asking questions. After the fifth or sixth tangent, Devonte stopped and said, “Do you have any experience with computers?”

“Does watching porn count?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

“Okay, so nothing I say will make sense, and this will go a lot faster if you just let me work.”

“Talk about a personality shift,” Brannigan said holding up his hands in defense. “Note to self, don’t distract the nerd.” He flashed a grin. “I prefer putting things together with my hands anyway. Tinkering with actual objects and not just—”

Devonte scowled at him as he continued speaking.

“Okay, shutting up, sir.”

Finally, the panel blinked green, and the glass door slid aside so they could enter.

“Nerd: One; Marine: Zero,” Devonte said, giving Brannigan a thumbs up.

“Let’s not forget who probably would have gotten us kicked out by the tour guides were it not for my quick thinking...little bro. I’ll be nice and say we’re still zero-zero.” He laughed and punched him in the shoulder. Devonte refused to let the word “ouch” leave his mouth, so he rubbed the sore spot in silence.

“Now what?” Brannigan said, twirling in a slow