The Early Cenozoic was empty—not unusual for this time of the morning.

The owners must have brought in more plants over the weekend, or else Pamella had a wild way with flora. For whatever reason, the café felt equatorial. Orchid stalks arched their purple and orange flowers toward the windows. Staghorns pointed their apple-green leaves every which way. Peace lilies in terra-cotta stood guard beside the bathroom, and a fern suspended in macramé tickled at a golden pothos that had climbed up the wall with the aid of its little brown stem toes. The lemur barista was barely visible amid the foliage. Familiar noises pulsed low, beneath traffic noise from the street.

“Is this Akida?” Alfonzo called out as a way of making his presence known.

“Oh.” Pamella emerged from the leaves. “I’ve been waiting for you, Mr. Faca.”

“Mr. Faca is my father. You can call me Al.”

Pamella jumped from plant to counter and ducked beneath. There was a rustling sound, and the lemur returned clutching a stack of newspapers.

“These are for you,” she said.

Each paper had bold full-page spreads and each trumpeted the same story. Unlike the usual coverage of Mayor Shergar, in these photos the horse looked sweaty and spooked. There were shots of the mayor rearing back, away from a swarm of microphones, and showing the whites of his eyes. Alfonzo studied the headlines.

SHOCKING REVELATIONS: OUR FULL COVERAGE OF THE CITY HALL LEAKS

SEADYNE SLIPPED MAYOR MILLIONS THROUGH OFFSHORE SHELLS

SECRET DOCUMENTS SHOW ADMINISTRATION CAUGHT IN FINANCIAL TRAP; SHERGAR DENIES ALL

They had done it. Or really, Mitchell had done it. He looked to Pamella, and her expression told him this was real.

“You should have seen City Hall when I opened this morning,” Pamella said. “Black cars coming and going. All kinds of sinister swine scuttling in and out. There were a million reporters, but security cleared them from the steps before they hustled the mayor out in blinders.”

“Who was taking the mayor away?” Alfonzo asked.

“Oh, you know. The really powerful ones,” Pamella replied. She was calm. “Can I fix you something? We’ll look more natural if I’m making a coffee. You never know who’s watching.”

Alfonzo’s stomachs contracted. He was hot in his wool.

They were in it together. They were all enmeshed, caught in a system they’d been born into. There was no going backward. The stereo continued to chirp out music. Where was Mitchell?

“This is huge, isn’t it?” Alfonzo wanted Pamella’s reassurance. “Maybe this will change everything? I mean, isn’t this how revolutions start?”

“Perhaps.” Pamella nodded with a little snort.

“You’re not convinced.”