"For Five only. Security reasons," said Swig. "The 1368's come in and out. Using the main elevator for all that traffic would create obvious logistical problems. The jail bus lets them off around the back, at the 1368 reception center. They get processed and go straight up to Five. No stops-they have no access to the rest of the hospital."

"Except for the staff elevator."

"They don't use the staff elevator."

"Theoretically."

"Factually," said Swig.

"If you want to segregate the fifth floor completely, why even have the staff elevator go there?"

"It's the way the hospital was built," said Swig. "Logical, don't you think? If something happens on Five and the staff needs backup, we're ready for them."

"Ready," said Milo, "by way of a slow elevator. How often does something happen on Five?"

"Rarely."

"Give me a number."

Swig rubbed a mole. "Once, twice a year-what does it matter? We're talking temporary disruption, not a riot. Some 1368 trying too hard to impress us with how crazy he is. Or a fight. Don't forget, plenty of the evaluees are gang members." Swig sniffed contemptuously. Every society had its castes.

"Let's have a look at Five," said Milo. "Through the reception center. I don't want anyone to touch that piece of paper."

"Even if it is an inmate slipper," said Swig, "that wouldn't make it Peake's. All the inmates are issued-" He stopped. "Sure, sure, staff only-what was I thinking?"

On the way down, he said, "You think I'm some bureaucrat who doesn't give a damn. I took this job because I care about people. I adopted two orphans."

We got out on the first floor, exited the way we'd come in, followed Swig around the left side of the building. The side we'd never seen. Or been told about.

Identical concrete pathway. Bright lights from the roof yellowed five stories, creating a giant waffle of clouded windows.

Another door, identical to the main entrance.

The structure was two-faced.

A painted sign said INTAKE AND EVALUATION. A guard blocked the entry. Ten yards away, to the left, was a small parking lot, empty, separated from the yard by a chain-link-bordered path that reminded me of a giant dog run. The walkway veered, bled into darkness. Not visible as you crossed the main yard. Not accessible from the main entry. So there was another way onto the grounds, an entirely different entry.

Off to the right I saw the firefly bounce of searchlights, the outer borders of the uninhabited yard we'd seen yesterday, hints of the annex buildings. Unlit, too far to make out details. The search seemed to be carrying on beyond the annexes, fireflies clustering near what had to be the pine forest.

"How many roads enter the hospital grounds?" I said.

"Two," said Swig. "One, really. The one you've taken."

"What about there?" I pointed to the small parking lot.