Its footage had not been interrupted.
The technician opened the corresponding date.
Everyone leaned toward the screen.
At 2:13 a.m., a maintenance cart appeared at the far end of the service corridor.
A person wearing prison maintenance clothing pushed it toward a door that supposedly hadn’t been opened all night.
The figure stopped.
Removed something from a pocket.
Held it against the electronic reader.
The light turned green.
The door opened.
Nobody spoke.
“Who is that?” the warden demanded.
The technician enlarged the image.
The person’s face was partially hidden beneath a cap.
But when the figure turned sideways, one of the guards suddenly stood.
“I know that uniform.”
Everyone looked at her.
“That’s not ours.”
She pointed at the emblem.
“It belongs to the private medical contractor.”
The room erupted.
The prison used an outside company for certain laboratory services, equipment maintenance, and specialist medical consultations.
