The exercise yard and the cellblocks were concealed behind it, but six more guard towers were visible, concrete buildings with mansard roofs and plate-glass windows and balconies near the top. Riordan pulled the green Ford up to the main gate and opened the window. The guard in a gray uniform came out of his house. “Yessir?” he said. Riordan produced his credentials again. “Your business, sir?” the guard said. “Superintendent,” Riordan said. “Is he expecting you, sir?” the guard said. He was a young man and a thin one. He had a discouraged expression. “Yup,” Riordan said, “called him this morning.” The guard stood in the sun and thought about that. He looked at the credentials again. “Something to do with a prisoner, sir?” he said. “Yes,” Riordan said, “something to do with a prisoner. Why the hell else would anybody come here, if it didn’t have something to do with a prisoner, can you tell me?” The guard looked thoughtful. “I’ll call the office, sir,”
