I had covered the bulletin boards and the offices on one side of the hall when another man in green came into the hall and made straight for me. I didn't wait, I walked toward him, too. I said, as wide-eyed and innocent as I could, "Can you help me, sir?"
"Well, that depends. What sort of help do you need?" He was a big, rather slow man with one angled cloth bar on his shirt front over one pocket and a plate that said ROBARDS pinned over the pocket on the other side. He seemed good-natured.
I said, "Jerry had to write about the capital, and Jimmy got the Governor, and I got you."
"Hold on there. First, what be your name?"
"Billy Davidow," I said. "I don't know what to write, sir, and I thought you could show me around and tell me things."
"I be sorry, son," he said. "We be pretty caught up today. Could you make it some other afternoon or maybe some evening?"
I said slowly, "I have to hand the paper in this week."
After a minute, he said, "All right. I'll take you around. But I can't spare much time. It'll have to be a quick tour."
The offices were on the first floor. Storage rooms, an arms room and a target range were in the basement. Most of the cells were on the second floor, with the very rough cases celled on the third.