It was the emptiest exhibit of the museum.

Mallowes walked calmly through a holographic display of a burning forest, which was made all the more realistic by the fan blowing hot air in patrons’ faces. He kept walking until he stood in front of a large case displaying another hologram, this one showing people dressed as lab technicians studiously examining piles of burnt wood and charred plants.

“That’s not what Elsa Kavendish looked like,” said a woman sitting on a bench across from the display. She wore a long wool coat with its collar folded up and a gray scarf around her neck, as if she was about to go back outside any minute. The only feature Mallowes could clearly make out was the straight black hair running down the side of her face.

Mallowes smiled ruefully. “I know,” he said. “My understanding is that the museum did not find her true appearance dynamic enough.”

“What does her appearance have to do with what she did?”

“Nothing. But the museum wants to present her as a role model, and you know how people are. They respond better to role models that are attractive.”

“I think it’s a shame when museums play to people’s worst instincts.”

“I agree. However, like any business, a museum must find a way to bring people inside its doors.”

While they were speaking, Mallowes removed a device, somewhat smaller than his fist, from his pocket. He twisted a series of dials on its base, then pressed a button in its middle. It emitted a six-meter-wide sphere of nothing. An invisible veil of static shielded their conversation. If anyone came within fifteen meters, the disc would beep three times, then drop its shield. For now, they could talk freely.

“Hello, Agnes.”

“Hello. Morten’s missing,” Agnes said. Mallowes always appreciated her willingness to get down to business.

“I know.”

“Should I be worried?”

“For him? Or for yourself?” Mallowes asked.

“What do you think?”

“No. The issue that got him in trouble didn’t involve you in the least. No one is looking for you.”

“Good.” Agnes paused. “I’m not sure why you called on me. I’ve got enough to do, monitoring what’s going to happen tomorrow. I’m supposed to watch the warehouse on…”

“I don’t want to hear anything about what’s happening tomorrow!” Mallowes said sharply.

“Right. Sorry,” Agnes said with what might have been a mocking tone. “Anyway, I have plenty to do. I don’t know that I can take on anything else until that’s done.”

“This is more important.”

Agnes whistled. “Really?”

“Yes.”

The woman pushed the hair out of her face, showing blue eyes and an upward-crinkled mouth. She couldn’t keep the expression of wonder off her face. “All right, I’m interested, then. What’s going on?”

“There’s a Paladin who we cannot afford to let vote in the election.”

“Who?”

“Jonah Levin.”

“Levin? You can’t be serious.”

Mallowes gave her a look that assured her he was.

“You want Levin out of commission by tomorrow. With the amount of time left, that doesn’t leave too many options.”

“I realize that.”

“I can’t do anything subtle. It’s going to be direct. Probably quite violent.”

Mallowes held up a hand. “I have no need to hear any details. The job must be done. If it is, you will receive fifty times your normal payment. If it’s not, our relationship is terminated.”

“A real all-or-nothing guy. I’ve never liked that about you—except when I get the ‘all,’ of course.”

Mallowes was in no mood to tolerate her jesting tone. “Get it done,” he barked. Just then his disc beeped three times.

With remarkable speed and agility for a man of his years, Mallowes bent and scooped the disc into his pocket in one quick motion. He recovered his normal firm bearing before the intruder could round the corner and see them.

“At least it has brown hair,” Agnes said. “I’m pretty sure she had brown hair. Wasn’t it curly, though?”

“That’s hardly the point, my dear girl. When discussing one of the great scientists of history, is appearance really relevant?”

A brown-haired man in a courier’s jacket came around the corner. Both his hands were jammed in his pockets. He didn’t seem the least bit interested in the exhibit, not sparing it a single look.

“Impressive,” the man said. He stood with his legs slightly apart, and Mallowes sensed the tension running through the newcomer’s body. He jerked his head at Agnes, and she slowly stood.

“Yes,” Mallowes said, “they are. Some very capable scientists.”

“Not them,” the newcomer said. “You two.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean that you didn’t miss a beat. You picked up that conversation like all that stuff in the middle didn’t happen. The trouble is,” he said, looking slowly back and forth between Mallowes and Agnes, “it did.”

“I’m not quite sure…”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good device,” the man said. “The problem is, the people who made it knew how to break it. So they put your disc on the general market, and then put a way to break the shield in some back channels, pricing it for ten times what your device costs. Selling both the disease and the cure—nice little racket. You’ve gotten by for a while, you see, because barely anyone has the cure. But a few of us do.”

Mallowes didn’t need to hear anymore. He feinted forward, just enough to make the man flinch, then darted into the corridor behind him. The man tried to draw the weapon Mallowes knew was in his pocket, but Agnes was quicker. She was on him instantly, and they tussled on the museum floor.

The fight wouldn’t last long, Mallowes knew. Agnes might have fared well in an even fight, but museum security would detect the scuffle and arrive too quickly for her to make her escape. She’d be tied up for a while. For too long. He cursed silently. He’d have to move down to the next name on his list.

But first he had to get out.

He emerged from the exhibit’s exit at a brisk walk. He disliked it, but he was forced to take the catwalk to the stairs—there was no time to wait for an elevator.

The catwalk seemed to sway beneath his feet. The light breeze from the heating system suddenly seemed to grow stronger. Mallowes’ legs became wobbly.

He was almost to the staircase when thudding footsteps made him jump backward. The catwalk’s low railing caught him at his thighs, and, for a brief moment, he mentally saw himself pitching over and falling five stories. But he caught himself as two security guards ran past him, and he proceeded down the staircase.

He walked as quickly as he could without running. The guards would be with Agnes very shortly and the courier, if he were still alive, would start talking.

Agnes had better not fail him.

He wound down the increasingly narrow stairway, the final twists making him slightly dizzy. But then his feet hit the carpeted floor of the entry hall.

The entrance was just ahead. No one stood between him and freedom except for the attendant. The guards must have gone to investigate the disturbance.

He pushed forward, one hand in his pocket, preparing to grab his phone and make the next call. Just as soon as he was out.

To his right, his mind registered the soft chime announcing an elevator’s arrival. A voice followed the chime.

“That’s enough, Senator.”

Had it just been the voice of a security guard, Mallowes would have hurried on. But the shock of recognition, the surprise of hearing that voice here, stopped him in his tracks. He turned, and saw the wrong end of a revolver held by Heather GioAvanti.

His shoulders slumped. A vision of a million humiliations that would now be his swamped his mind. But that vision could not push away the sight of the gun staring him down.

In her other hand, GioAvanti held a small parabolic dish. A long needle extended from the center of it like a stiletto. He knew it immediately for what it is.