He heard a crash bar disengage a lock, a steel door swing open, and then the sound of boots hitting the concrete floor. He ran toward the noise and turned the corner near Operations in time to see a squad—three in the vanguard and then two and two—running out the door and away down the hallway perpendicular to his. They were six guards and a sergeant to supervise them. He couldn’t help appraising their appearance. They wore uniforms like his, the starched khaki shirts and green creased pants, black boots, and black belts. They looked sharp, and they looked formidable. He felt proud.

He turned away from them toward the Operations office and stepped inside. Before the door swung shut he heard the squad clattering down the stairs toward Cellblock C.

Humphry stepped into Operations just as the intercom system went quiet again. He asked Paul Scott, “What’s up on Block C?”

Scott was younger, only thirty-one, but he had an air of competence that reassured people, even Humphry, who was aware the quality had to be a good temperament and not extensive experience. Scott was a good man to have on a night shift because he was responsible. Night shifts at Weldonville consisted of very few men, so most of the time just Humphry and Scott were in Operations.

“We’re not sure, sir. We could see on the monitor that two men were out of their cells. It looked like they somehow slipped out between the bed check and the general door lock. They looked to me like they were squaring off to fight. The trouble squad took off a minute ago.”

Humphry said, “This is really too bad. I’ve been afraid that someday one of them would find a way to hotwire the locking system. I hope this wasn’t the day. They’re like one big organism with stuff like this. By next week all of them would know how, and we’d be dealing with something like this every night.”

“Sir?”

“What?”

“Something else just happened.” He pointed at one of the other television screens on the big wall of monitors. “Now the cameras on Block C aren’t showing anything.”

The seven guards reached the gate at the end of the hall before the entrance to Cellblock C. Pelletier, the sergeant, inserted his key card into the reader, punched in his code, and stepped back. The bars rolled out of the way into the wall, and the seven charged past—first McGovern, Ciccio, Decker, Yashinsky, Tiedemann, and Polk; and then, in accordance with procedure, after he’d stayed long enough to see the gate across the corridor roll shut and lock, Pelletier pivoted and ran to catch up.