Zubair stumbled once as the guards pushed him through the plexiglass door, then caught himself with the same neat control he used for everything.
The door to his plexiglass prison sealed silently, and he sank to the floor in his corner, forearms on his knees, his eyes open and steady.
Everyone who knew him well knew what he was doing at that moment. He was counting everything, taking names, and memorizing faces.
It would almost be a pity what he was going to do to those he came across when the situation was turned.
Across the corridor, another plexiglass door swung open, and two guards entered Elias' small cell.
"On your feet," the taller guard instructed.
Elias rose without bracing a hand against the wall.
The room smelled like chilled plastic and the breath of too many bodies scrubbed out of the air. A curl of tape clung to the threshold, stuck to nothing. He stepped over it and moved into the corridor between two white-coated backs.
