The Iron Perimeter: A Novel of Institutional Survival, Faded Tattoos, and the Unyielding Weight of Discipline
CHAPTER 1: THE COLD IRON RUN The scuffed linoleum of the intake office smelled of chemical floor stripper and stale tobacco, an institutional odor Frank had smelled in forty different variations from Fort Bragg to the federal line. He didn’t look at the kid behind the laminated desk. The clerk couldn’t have been more than…