Phelps signed a register at a guard's station in the lobby. We took a
very fast and efficient elevator to the third floor and Phelps escorted
me along a hallway that was lined with doors, dormitory style. In the
eye-level center of each door was a bull's eye that looked like one-way
glass and undoubtedly was. I itched to take a look, but Phelps was not
having any; he stopped my single step with a hand on my arm.
"This way," he said smoothly.
I went this way and was finally shown into one of the rooms. My nice
clean cell away from home.