"Fight on seven north," she barked into her walkie-talkie. "Need assistance up here right away."
As the prisoner started toward McGarrity with an uplifted chair, the male guard tackled him. The female guard then sprayed mace in the inmate's face. Two more guards appeared, and the prisoner was forced face-down on the floor and handcuffed. McGarrity climbed to his feet and glanced inquisitively at Calhoun.
"You know how it is," Calhoun said. "I can't get involved."
McGarrity shuffled over to the probation officer, who was lying on the floor holding his cheek.
"You okay?" McGarrity asked.
"God, no. Can't you see I'm bleeding? That son of a bitch has AIDS. Oh, God, no."
The female guard approached them and said, "We'll take it from here, counselor. I'll lead you out to the elevator. We're in lockdown as of right now."
She handed McGarrity his suit coat and file and led him out of the library.
"Call me collect," he yelled back at Calhoun. "I'm usually there around noon."
The guard unlocked the gate, and he proceeded to the elevator. He was dripping with sweat as he entered it.
"Where you headed?" said the fat, bald operator without removing his gaze from the numbers panel.
"Ground floor."
"Just heard over my radio somebody got bit," the operator said, finally raising his eyes to him. "Was it you?"
"No, it was a probation officer. He's still up there."
"Damn shame. Last week a Blood set his cellmate's mattress on fire. Poor guy woke up with second-degree burns all over. Week before that, a Latin King stabbed a Muslim from Newark in the back. Guy almost died. I never worked in any other prisons, but I'll tell you what. If I knew I was coming here to do time, I'd off myself. Forty-five right in the mouth. Here's your floor."
