Many of the marquees were dark; more than a few had been converted to picture palaces. Others had been knocked down and replaced with offices or apartments. But others still stood tall and proud. Some had scorched façades, which made Aristide wonder about the extent of rioting and revolution. He’d been given to understand armed conflict was limited, and that “civil war” meant less trenches and gunfire than mob violence and political pressure. Still, Temple Street bore scars. The ugliest of which they were approaching now.

“Stop,” said Aristide, abruptly, and they did. “Will you just idle here for a bit? Thank you.”

“Aristide,” said Daoud, brows furrowed.

“I won’t be a moment.” When he opened the door, a blast of cold, wet air met his face. Snow oncoming, he should think. Or maybe sleet. His instinctual prediction startled him; the weather had never got into his bones abroad like it had here, and it had been some time since he recognized a shift in the wind and knew what it would bring.

The Bee had stood between a wine bar and a casino, last time he saw it. Now, the empty place where its marquee had been was bracketed by a bad restaurant and a second-rate hotel. The small square left vacant between them was newly paved and populated with wrought-iron benches and holly trees hastily popped into decorative planters. Those wouldn’t make it through the winter, not potted this late. He imagined they weren’t meant to—their corpses would be replaced with tulips in the spring.

At the center of the square stood a monument shrouded in canvas and rope. He was sorely tempted to cross the street and peek beneath the edge of the covering, but stayed where he was in order not to draw attention, or the ire, of his taxi driver. Besides, two hounds were posted to either side of the park entrance, huddled miserably in their macks. Aristide squinted through the top of his bifocals, fairly certain he could see the shadow of shoulder holsters behind their lapels. ACPD hounds hadn’t gone armed with more than a truncheon the last time he walked these streets. He wondered if it was a new standard, or an exception granted for these particular guards.