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top of the staircase and turned, directing Kane and his entourage toward a single office that was located here among the rafters overlooking the works.
    The metal catwalk ran along the walls of the factory, lit only by the sunlight that streamed through a series of horizontal slit windows that traced a line around the whole plant. Lights dangled from buzzing fixtures, running off some hidden generator. Up here among the shadows, the owner’s office ran fifteen feet of frosted glass and boards, the latter painted black. The posse walked beside it to reach its lone door. The door, like the walls, had a pane of glass in it, though this one was clear.
    Buchs grasped the office door handle, and Kane glanced through the panel of glass before the door swung back. A wide table ran the length of the room and a man sat dead center in a leather chair. He was shuffling papers but looked up at the sound of the opening door. The man had thinning brown hair drawn back in a ponytail. His face was so gaunt it looked like a skeleton’s, with thick ridges of acne scarring running down both cheeks. His eyes were a blue so pale they appeared almost white. Kane recognized him as soon as he looked up, and his heart began to race. Jerod Pellerito was one of the earliest lawbreakers that Kane had arrested in his career as a Cobaltville Magistrate. If Pellerito should recognize him, Kane knew, then they were probably in a lot of trouble. A whole lot of trouble.
    Without realizing it, Kane held his breath as Buchs pushed the door open for him and encouraged him inside. Kane entered the room at the man’s urging, with Brigid and Grant following close behind.
    The pockmarked man at the desk took a moment to scrutinize his guests, then Kane’s heart sank as the professional smile on Pellerito’s gaunt face drained away.
    “You’re shittin’ me!” Jerod Pellerito exclaimed in disbelief. “Magistrate Kane, you motherless bastard.”

Chapter 3
    Kane had been younger back then, and much more impulsive. The crimes hadn’t mattered so much, just the hunt and its conclusion. Following in his father’s footsteps, Kane became a full-fledged Magistrate, and he already had that drive to be better, to do better.
    Smart drugs had been appearing in the upper levels of Cobaltville, distilled herbs and plant extracts that appealed to the intelligentsia. Kane and Grant, already partners, had been following the trail for a while, conscious that the problem was increasing. Someone was importing this stuff from beyond the ville walls, but they were moving it quickly, deftly able to sidestep the ville patrols.
    The case had taken on a more serious tone when one of the abusers died from taking a dose. Until then it had been a few privileged kids getting high, but a death made it all much more urgent, raising the stakes and drawing the baron’s attention. Kane had been the responding officer when the call came in. It had been raining when he arrived at the school, dark clouds leering heavily overhead. The school catered to the children of well-heeled parents, doctors and dentists and division supervisors, the professionals and administrators who kept Cobaltville running.
    Kane arrived alone at the principal’s office, the heels of his uniform boots sounding loud in the silent corridors. The whole school had an atmosphere, a weight to it that Kane could feel as he strode the corridors, a kind of misery that was every bit as real as the lime paint on the walls.
    The principal, an open-faced woman with graying hair cut in a long bob, had jumped with surprise when Kane entered her office. He hadn’t knocked; he was a Magistrate, so it was his prerogative to go where he pleased.
    The principal had been sitting at her desk, and Kane could see she had been crying. She dropped the paperwork from her hands as she looked at Kane, eyeing him with fear. Kane wore the standard Magistrate uniform beneath a long black raincoat; black leather polycarbonate armor with a red