“Captain Pete Southall.” Alison jumped at the voice, turning to see a stocky, red-faced man with a beret shoved through his epaulette. He had rolled-up sleeves and sunburn, and she pictured him being hauled back from a well-earned beach vacation by Hind’s imperious commands. “You’re Matchell?”

“That’s right.”

“I’m told you know what’s going on, ma’am.”

“Chance would be a fine thing,” she said automatically, which probably didn’t inspire confidence. A moment later she added, “But more than anyone else. Except her.”

The Cousin with the long name was striding over, looking like a bag lady deprived of her baggage. Musumbermber, or something like that, Alison recalled; she and Julian had ended up referring to her as “Jane.”

“We must go in,” the Cousin said, even as she was marching up. “Now, there is no time.”

“We’re still clearing the building,” Alison objected, but Jane actually looked her in the eye with a shock of challenge.

“Now, up high, near the top. Get those out who must be out, get those in who must be in.” She nodded at the wide-eyed Southall and his men. “Now, immediately, now.”

They argued the building’s management into switching on the lifts again, because nobody wanted to take the stairs up to level eighty. Alison shared an elevator with the Cousin and Julian, who wanted to know: “So why the top floors? Why this place at all?”

“To minimize the vertical distance for re-entry,” Jane said flatly. Her face looked tight and tense—and Alison realized the Cousins usually looked tired and vaguely depressed. It was as though being here and dealing with regular human people was just so much work. Now the bones of Jane’s purpose were showing through; she was at the edge of her personal resources.

“The…re-entry?” Julian demanded. “And then…what? The rats come through after Khan and company, and we’re stuck on top of a building? We’re going to run down eighty flights of stairs to get out, or be trapped in a lift?”

“Plans have been made,” Jane said flatly. “We have done what we can. We are running out of chances. We must recover your scientist now.”

“Why now? Because otherwise the rats will kill her, or what?” Julian demanded. Alison said nothing, because she knew with a killing certainty why this urgency and why now. This morning’s news was the tip of the splintering iceberg. They were running out of time, and so was everything else.

Shortly thereafter Southall reported up to her on the eightieth floor. “All clear to floor ninety, ma’am. We’re working up through the last few, just kicked a cleaner off floor eighty-nine.” He obviously realized how that sounded and hastily added, “Sent her down the stairs, I mean. We think that’s it, but I’ve got people checking loos and broom cupboards.”