It's been two days since Nate, fuelled by a mixture of shame and righteous urgency, is heading to the West Coast to secure his second massive bust. Two days of the news cycle celebrating CSI's unparalleled success, all orchestrated by my hand from this cage. The silence in my cell was growing loud, vibrating with anticipation.
The guards had been twitchy all morning, the heightened security signalling an unusual event. I knew it was not Nate. Nate would call first, a necessary act of treason. No, this was someone with enough pull to override standard protocols and command attention from the highest levels of the facility. I was right. The steel door to the visitor's room hissed open, and the atmosphere did not just change; it solidified, becoming heavy and cold, thick with history and entitlement.
