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The warden had been appointed by a New Orleans civic commission headed by the governor of the state, and although he steadfastly refused to become involved in politics, he was aware of all the players. Joe Romano was Mafia, a runner for Anthony Orsatti. Perry Pope, the attorney who had defended Tracy Whitney,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], was on their payroll,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and so was Judge Henry Lawrence. Tracy Whitney's conviction had a decidedly rank odor to it.
Now Warden Brannigan made his decision. He said to his wife,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], "Yes. I do have someone in mind."
There was an alcove in the prison kitchen with a small Formica-topped dining table and four chairs, the only place where it was possible to have a reasonable amount of privacy. Ernestine Littlechap and Tracy were seated there,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], drinking coffee during their ten-minute break.
"I think it's about time you tol' me what your big hurry is to bust outta here," Ernestine suggested.
Tracy hesitated. Could she trust Ernestine? She had no choice. "There--- there are some people who did things to my family and me. I've got to get out to pay them back."
"Yeah? What'd they do?"
Tracy's words came out slowly,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], each one a drop of pain. "They killed my mother."
"Who's they?"
"I don't think the names would mean anything to you. Joe Romano, Perry Pope, a judge named Henry Lawrence; Anthony Orsatti---"

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