The bulb above the dim cell flickered constantly. All the inmates tossed and turned in their beds, visibly restless.
Ever since the violent murder on this floor, the guards had been patrolling at a rate of roughly three or four rounds an hour. Every ten minutes or so, they would rap on the bars. Heavy footsteps and coughing rang out at random intervals, making it impossible for anyone to sleep peacefully.
Any maximum-security prison might claim to be watertight, but as long as it was not fully mechanized and still involved human management, there would always be loopholes. That was how all kinds of contraband got inside.
To evade inspections, contraband was often powdered and wrapped in paper packets no larger than bookmarks. As long as someone could get a match, they could use it. In the past, people had hidden where the guards could not see and taken it in secret, but few dared to get themselves so high that they lost consciousness.
Yet no one in the prison who had heard about Jimmy's incident doubted the official explanation. For one thing, everyone knew Jimmy had been transporting drugs for the Border Gang dealers. The odds of him getting hold of contraband were far too high, and he might very well have been skimming from the stash himself.
Prison inspections were always rushed. As long as Jimmy pocketed a tiny amount each time, it would have been enough to get himself high. Besides, Big Dog had beaten him badly enough to send him to the infirmary before, and quite a few inmates had seen him along the way. They knew the two had a grudge.
So it was not impossible that Jimmy had used the courage provided by hallucinogens to fight Big Dog. The only suspicious point was that