Change of Plans Grasshopper

66.

There is always risk. Most times we play the percentages, leveraging uncertainty with gut instinct. Occasionally one must present the courage of one’s convictions as the best chance of pulling off the impossible. I sit and consider the plan. It can work but the margin for error is so small that any number of surprises or missteps could cause catastrophic results. I notice my reaction as I consider putting the life of an eighteen year old on the line. I consider the variables, the gray areas, the unknown, the probability factors, the motivation and the methodology. I wish I had more time but the one shot we have at this is in plain view and waiting for our play. Or, my play, I revise as TOM has entered the realm of plausible deniability leaving me with no one on back watch. We are officially rogue.

I am parked among three other vehicles, it seems the facility is running with a skeleton crew, which is good for us. I load a backpack with what I intend to be our MacGyver kit, scribble a three-step instructional directive for Vi, and order a Uber pickup in twenty-nine minutes at the downtown Holiday Inn. I make a last minute mental check of the inventory, the strategy, the personnel and consider a few options and emergency scenarios. My head is clear. This can work. This WILL work. I take a deep breath committing to the plan with one hundred percent certainty on the exhale.

I shoulder the kit and tape a playing card sized wad of PE4 to the tail pipes of the two pickups flanking the Expedition. Walking towards the gate I notice the guard is oblivious to my presence, lost in a computer screen. I greet him and he buzzes me back in with annoyance. The twenty-three steps it takes me to reach the main entrance I cover in twelve-seconds. At the security checkpoint I place the kit, my sidearm and my cell phone in a plastic bin and walk through the scanner. The guard, having previously supervised this operation, remains seated and waves me in with a quick head point to the facilities interior, ignoring the bin. Two for two.

I make my way to the wardens office and knock on his open door. He doesn’t look happy to see me, but has the courtesy to place the pencil atop his crossword puzzle and ask what I want this time.

“I’d like to see Ms Hayes once more please.” I say, patronizingly.

He smirks, shrugs his shoulders, picks up the phone and instructs the guard to escort me back to Vi’s holding cell. We are four for four, hitting a thousand I think, imagining the box score in ink opposite the daily crossword. We get to Vi and are greeted by the block guard. Everybody knows the drill and she opens the bars and shuts them once I am standing in front of Vi who is on the floor holding a front plank with perfect form.

I reach into my shirt pocket and take out the three-step instructional directive. Vi seems to be taking the yoga seriously so I gently place the note on the floor and slide it underneath her so she can read it without interrupting the plank, adding with yogi calm and serene presence:

“Change of plans grasshopper.”