A grim smile gathered on Glinn's lips. 'You will when you read the profile.'
D'Agosta nodded toward the table. 'And what are all these other papers?'
'Blueprints and mechanical plans for the maximum security wing of the Herkmoor Correctional Facility in upstate New York.'
'Why?'
'I should think the 'why' would be obvious. My client, Agent Pendergast.'
'But Pendergast is in Bellevue, not Herkmoor.'
'He'll be in Herkmoor soon enough.'
D'Agosta glanced at Glinn in astonishment. 'You don't mean we're going to… to bust him out?'
'I do.'
Constance drew in a sharp breath.
'That's one of the worst pens in the country. No one's ever escaped from Herkmoor.'
Glinn continued to stare at D'Agosta. 'I'm aware of that.'
'You think it's even possible?'
'Anything's possible. But I must have your help.'
D'Agosta looked down at the papers and blueprints thrown across the table. Everything conceivable was there-diagrams and drawings of every technical, structural, electrical, and mechanical system in the building. Then he glanced at Constance. She nodded almost imperceptibly.
Finally, he looked back at Glinn's one glittering eye. For the first time in a long while, he felt a fierce, sudden rush of hope.
'I'm in,' he said. 'So help me God,
Another smile spread across Glinn's scarred face. He gave the pile of papers a light slap with his gloved hand. 'Come on, my friends- we've got work to do.'
