THE PRISON VISIT
PART ONE: THE ARRANGEMENT
3:16 PM — Federal Detention Facility, Downtown Manhattan
Dante walked through the security checkpoint like he owned the place. Guards recognized him or rather, they recognized the kind of man he was. The kind who didn’t need recognition because his presence was permission.
He’d arranged this visit through channels that didn’t officially exist. A corrections officer with gambling debts. A warden with a daughter in medical school who’d suddenly received a full scholarship. A system with enough small fractures that a man with resources could slip through.
Vincent was in the visitation room. He looked smaller than Dante remembered. The orange jumpsuit hung loose on his frame. Seven months in federal detention had stripped away the polish, the con
