She really didn’t have to word it that way.

The trio joined us, following a little ways behind as we entered the building.

It was late enough that the lighting had inverted inside the Wardens’ headquarters. Earlier, the light that had shone down and inside had been from the windows, diffuse and soft. Now it was light from the walls and corners, starting from the places that shadows had been earlier, while the windows and surrounding areas were dark. This light was sharp and stark, with fairly clear distinctions on the walls between where the beams touched and where they didn’t, the ‘didn’t’ catching only the diffuse, dull reflections, and only where the gleaming wood grain was raised.

This lighting fit the way we’d disposed of the four prisoners this morning, and disposed of the other prisoners earlier in the week. It somehow fit that mornings were the time we ended up doing most of them; capes stayed up late and slept in, really slept in, in the case of Ratcatcher and her ilk, and our nine in the morning was the equivalent of two in the morning for ordinary people. It was also possible that my feelings about mornings were because I really wasn’t a morning person.

There were staff members inside, including a receptionist and a few people in business formal clothing. They were tracking the news, crowded around a phone. It was possible they’d been on their way home when the details hit the media.

Multiple sets of eyes turned our way. I had to convince myself that there was no way that details of the diary would have been disseminated and shared yet, that it was more about Engel, Egg, and Scraping than about attitudes and resentment.

No, those feelings would come soon, I was sure, but not now.

I stopped by the receptionist’s desk.

“Can I help you, Antares?”

“Heavy question,” Tattletale said, quiet enough I wasn’t sure the receptionist caught it. I avoided reacting.

“Can you page the office? Antares, Tress, and Tattletale coming in with a… I guess a prisoner and three guests who might have useful information. Tell them our prisoner is Case Twelve, they should know what it means, and tell them he’ll need medical care. Um, I think it’d be best if we took security precautions.”

“Precautions?” Tattletale asked, behind me.

I’d hoped she was far enough back to not hear me. Good ears.

“Um,” the receptionist said, tapping a few keys. There was a hint of nervousness there. “Precautions.”

Her hand moved to one corner of the keyboard. The F-keys. The lip of the counter around the receptionist’s desk blocked Tattletale’s view of her hand.

“Yeah,” I said.

“The power grid is overloaded. Can you wait a minute?”

“It’s fine either way,” I said. I saw the receptionist relax.

So, apparently, did Tattletale. “Coded question and answer? I approve.”