MEDICAL EXAMINER.

The guard felt bad for the guy. The man had wandered into the Ambulatory Care Pavilion's glass atrium at the worst possible time: 3:10, precisely when first shifters swarmed from the elevators in a lemming-like exodus. Their work was done, and God help anybody that got in their way. Manuel watched the man get buffeted by the crowd, then waved from his podium.

"Sir! Over here!"

The man surfed his way over.

"Can I help you?"

The man looked at him with a tremulous expression. "They called me. I have to..." His lip trembled. "Someone from the Medical Examiner's office. My brother, he... Oh God."

Shit. Manuel hated this part of the job. Bellevue Hospital was massive, covering multiple blocks along 1st Avenue. He got lots of lost people. He'd direct them to the right block, the right building, floor and unit. Sometimes people were distraught. There was never an easy way to deal with them. But the ones looking for the morgue-they were the worst.

"They called you to identify him?" The man barely moved, a whisper of a nod.

"What's his name?"

"Crandall. Morris Crandall."

Manuel punched keys on his monitor and frowned. "He's been here for weeks."

"I was on my boat off the Sound with no cell. They couldn't find me."

Manuel cringed inside. Lousy bureaucrats. Now the guy was gonna see what his bro looked like after weeks on ice. "He's in the morgue, lower level. Do you have ID?"

The man buried his face in his hands, and like that, he was sobbing. Jesus. People looked over, giving Manuel accusatory scares. People hated security guards.

"Maybe he'll come back," Manuel offered.

The man raised his face hopefully. "You think?"

Manuel typed into his console. A temporary clearance pass popped from a slot. He handed it to the man. "You're in the wrong building, sir. Wave this at any one of the wall panels; they'll direct you to the ME's office."

"Thank you."

Manuel touched his intercom. "I'll announce you."

"Can't I just go over?"

"It's a secure area, sir."

The man's hand was suddenly covering Manuel's. "This is so traumatic. Is there a cafeteria? A place I can get coffee?"

"There are vending machines on Level Two."

"Bless you. I'll come back when I think I can... face it. You can announce me then. Is that okay?"

"Take all the time you need."

The man headed for the elevators, shoulders hunched in grief. Manuel was so relieved to be rid of the guy that he didn't notice when the man diverted to the rear exit.

The porcelain-tiled room stank of disinfectant and worse. The rimmed metal autopsy table had holes for draining fluid and spigots that delivered water from underneath.

A camera drone weaved around in the air, looking for the best angle. The creature annoyed the Assistant ME, but a clear record was essential. Bodies weren't what they used to be. They had a tendency to sit up and scream in the middle of the autopsy.

The AME and two assistants examined an obese sixteen-year-old reeb. He'd been weighed, X-rayed and measured.

The AME held the liver up in the harsh light. Enlarged. He dropped it into a weigh pan. "Name: Belushi, John. Cause of death..." He sighed. "Same as the last time."

A throat cleared behind them. They turned, and were startled to find themselves at the business end of a gun.

"Hi, boys," the man said. "I'm here to pick up a friend."

37.

DONNER.

"You brought him here?"

Veins stitched Armitage's temples. The bare bulbs of the basement made his mottled face look leprous.

"I thought we were in this together," I said, lighting a cigarette.

"How is compromising our security being in this together?"

"We didn't compromise anything," said Maggie hotly. "Nicole thinks Donner's dead, remember? Crandall, too."

"Crandall is dead!" Armitage swung his paw towards the tunnel, where the body was sitting in my wheelchair draped with auto deodorizers. "Dead and stinking up the place!"

Twenty or so Enders and Cadre members had formed a rough circle around us, divided by their loyalties. During my recovery, Jonathan's inner circle had taken a shine to me, due to my semi-holy status as a double reborn. It was either that or my sparkling personality. I hadn't cared enough to discourage it, but now I had a following I didn't know if I wanted. Armitage's people were bristling dangerously, sensing a threat to his authority.

"Let's all just calm down," Jonathan said.

"We would've stayed at the safe house on Bleeker, but there was no way to get there. Checkpoints are going up all over the city."

"You got him out of the morgue easy enough."

"Yeah, how'd you do that?" asked Max.

Maggie looked at the ground. "We, uh. We stole a hearse."

"You stole-" Armitage stopped, gaping.

Someone stifled laughter. Armitage looked ready to blow.

"You prefer we took your Silver Wraith?" said Maggie.

"How do you know you weren't tracked here?" he asked.

"Give me some credit, okay?" I said. "I wiped down the hearse with bleach and dumped it in Alphabet City."

"What about the hospital security cameras?"

"Security experienced a cascade failure around the same time as the robbery," smiled Maggie.

Armitage was not appeased. "We don't operate this way."

"You mean we didn't have your permission," Maggie said.

"That's right!" he roared. He gestured to the tense faces. "I'm responsible for these people's safety! This man has his own agenda."

There were unhappy stirrings from the Enders.

"You wanted proof that Surazal is killing people," I said.

"I didn't say break into Bellevue and steal a body!"

"There's no time, remember? We want this to happen in two weeks, we have to take some risks."

"Our savior! We've done alright without you."

I didn't blame the man for feeling like I was a threat. But this wasn't about being elected Class President, it was about survival. So I dropped my gauntlet. "Done alright?" I said. "Living like rats in a hole, hiding from any loud voice? Jamming up the Conch with your little protest messages and managing to get yourself blamed for every violent act some other crazy group commits?"

The tension in the room surged geometrically. There were angry murmurs.

"How dare you," breathed Armitage.

"Boss."

It was Max. "Boss," he said. "Donner's right."

Armitage gaped, blindsided. Limbs shifted uneasily.

"We've been surviving, but that's it," said Max. "It ain't enough anymore."

"Surazal is the best-equipped security force in the world! They control the streets, the media, the minds of the public!"

"It don't matter," said Max. "You want to live like this forever? I'd rather die trying for something better."

Armitage fired a molten look at him, but Max puffed his barrel chest and held his ground. Behind them, there were nods of agreement, vehement "no's", and shuffling indecisive feet. Armitage goggled at the floor, an internal wrestling match playing out for his self-control.

"If we can revive that guy," said Max, "he's the smoking gun you were looking for. Donner got him in one clean move."

Sandy and Tippit entered from the tunnel.

"How's the doctor?" I asked.

"His tissues are regenerating," the nurse replied.

"It's pretty gross," added Tippit.

One of Jonathan's monks rushed down the wooden steps from the church above, sweaty and out of breath. "Jonathan! Checkpoints are going up all over the city!"

Everyone turned.

"They have barricades, armed squads. I passed three on my way here. If my ID hadn't held, I would've been detained. They're breaking Manhattan down into enclosed neighborhoods. They say it's security for the President's visit."

"They're looking for you," said Armitage to me.

"They're looking for all of us," I said. "This was always just a matter of time."

It showed on his face then, the toll of leading a double life, being responsible for so many people. I'd self-destructed with self-pity while this man had soldiered on.

"Look," I said, more gently. "I don't know another man who could have accomplished what you have. But you're not going to be able to hide much longer. Those of you who still hold jobs will be ferreted out and arrested. The rest will be firebombed out of existence."

"They can't," a voice insisted weakly from the crowd.

"They're already doing it!" said Maggie with a heat that shocked me. "Open your eyes! What's after checkpoints? A reborn Warsaw ghetto? You think the norms will protest?"

Armitage said nothing. His stony blue eyes looked sad.

"Pastor," said an Ender. "What do you think?"

"We're coming to some turning point," said Jonathan. "What it is, I can't predict. That man in there has a lot of answers, if we can bring him back. Answers we can use against Surazal. It may be the only way to end this thing without violence."

Armitage blinked his craggy lids slowly, an ancient turtle. Somewhere gravity yanked a drop of water from an overhead pipe and killed it on the cement floor.

"You love us," Maggie said. "But you can't protect us and fight a war at the same time."

He finally sighed. Everybody else did as well, in relief.

"It's moot anyway," he said. "But no more going off half-cocked. We figure the next plan out together."

I gave him my eyes, softening them enough to let him see inside. "Okay, boss."