“Yeah, well, Maxine left her guards out on the walkway so they wouldn’t have to check their weapons, but she managed to smuggle in her own. I call that an example.”

“Outside’s where they belong.” I saw Grace prepping a comeback and jogged her arm. “Check this one out.”

This guy with a shaved head and a downcast scowl had to be from Revelations, who claimed their only true leader was God. His hooded security fell into lockstep behind him and they left quickly, like they couldn’t wait to be out of there. All three wore identical, scratchy-looking robes and tucked their hands inside like old-time monks in videos. Didn’t mean they were peaceable. Neo-crusaders, Rubio called them, explaining that Revelations kept weapons but only the edged kind—blades of all descriptions, nothing mechanized, like technology had stopped five hundred years ago. So I had to wonder what they had up those long, loose sleeves. At least Ladysmith’s let you know they were carrying.

If Rousseau had been a priest before, how did he feel about these guys?

A brighter trio now clogged up the door, getting in each other’s way about who should go first. Two men and a woman, middle thirties, decked out in well-fitting suits of honeyed colors, soft shirts, dressy shoes. Their skin had a healthy glow.

“Uptowners?” I breathed. “What’re they doing here?”

“They wish,” Grace chuckled. “That’ll be Empire State. They’re only up in the East 20s.”

“How d’you know all this?” Hard to smooth all the resentment from my tone.

“Jus’ been around longer.”

Looking closer, I saw their clothes weren’t new so much as clean and cared-for. The woman’s jacket was a glowing red. One of the men was dark-skinned, and his open-necked shirt matched his even darker eyes. The other, a shortish blond, was wearing a tie. Like they’d walked right out of those old fashion mags. Rubio admired what he called Empire State’s ‘corporate structure,’ run by a board of trustees. Maybe the blond was their chairman or whatever they called it.

“They sure care how they dress,” I noted.

“Keeping up appearances.” Gracie allowed just a hint of regret. “Like we all used to.”

As the Empires passed Tall Tom, still muttering with his bodyguards, the blond guy made a remark I didn’t catch. Tall Tom snapped a reply over his shoulder.

Seconds later, the two were nose to nose, snarling like dogs, Tall Tom looming over the blond, whose head topped out below his opponent’s chin. His two companions just watched, the woman looking faintly amused. But Jake quickly wedged himself between, a palm pressed to each heaving chest.

“Tom. Will. Easy now. We’ll not be solving this by squabbling among ourselves.”

“We’re not paying for his frigging army!” the blond guy spat.