CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Kyle hurried down the staircase, deep into the Venice jail, and as he reached the lower levels, he saw that it was exactly as he remembered it. There was a low, arched ceiling, like a wine cellar, and on either side, were dozens of cells, behind thick iron bars. It was loud down here, hundreds of prisoners’ hands sticking out through the bars, yelling out to Kyle as he walked down the aisle.
He wasted no time. He tore at the iron bars with his bare hands, and the iron gave way as he bent it back with a groaning noise, just enough for the prisoners to squeeze out. He did this with each cell as he went, opening one after the other, and in moments, the corridor was flooded with rowdy prisoners, thrilled and bewildered. They all looked to Kyle, all seeming to wonder who he
