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make way for the cops.
    Suddenly the sky overhead became dotted with pinpricks of light that expanded and became helicopters. They aimed their searchlights along the streets, illuminating looters, some of whom dropped their treasures and ran, while others just jeered at the choppers without missing a beat.
    Then the traffic lurched forward but the bus waited, giving Cat a tiny space to pass. Exhibiting nerves of steel, she edged her way past the bus so closely that she almost scraped paint, and kept moving.
    “And why would anyone frame me for my father’s disappearance?” Cat said. “That’s just inviting more scrutiny on the real perps.”
    “What kind of evidence do you think they planted in his cell to implicate you?”
    Cat rolled her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably something subtle like some strands of my hair and one of my business cards with a signed confession on the back.”
    “Plus a selfie of your father holding a thank-you card. They must not be taking it all that seriously or they would have grounded you tonight.”
    “Maybe this zombie apocalypse has held up the paperwork,” Cat said. “Or better yet, the zombies have devoured IA.”
    “Zombies would never attack IA. Zombies eat brains.”
    “We are
both
twelve,” Cat said.
    At the next intersection, a cluster of cops was directing traffic. They spotted Cat and Tess’s squad car and facilitated their tortured progress through the intersection and around a corner.
    “W
hoa
,” Tess murmured as they came within sight of the lavish DeMarco Plaza, a towering edifice of marble, ebony, and gold. Powerful searchlights running off generators illuminated the front of the building. Embossed golden lions with their maned heads held in noble majesty flanked the DeMarco name in six-foot-high golden letters. “I haven’t been by here in forever. I forgot how, well, I guess the right word is
gaudy
, the DeMarco building is.”
    “They do like the bling,” Cat said. She spotted the uni in front of the vast complex and managed to pull over into the empty spot at the curb he had been reserving for them. She got out and Tess did too.
    Flashing her badge at the NYPD foot soldier, she said, “Thanks for saving us a seat.”
    He gestured to the squad car. “I’ll keep an eye on it for you, Detective.”
    Cat gave him a nod and she and Tess headed toward the dim lobby entrance. On the other side of a glass wall were four more unis and a dozen private security guards wearing earphones and carrying SIG Sauer P226s and .357 Magnums, by the looks of the gun butts poking out of various holsters. Cat and Tess were both armed but there was no need to draw their weapons as they showed their badges.
    One of the private security guards, a burly bald man with very small, piggish eyes, unlocked the door and stood back to give them room as they entered. The dimly lit room was crowded with bodies and chatter.
    “I’m Detective Chandler and this is Detective Vargas,” Cat said. “We’re from the one-twenty-fifth. We’re assisting on the kidnap.”
    “Lizzani. Sorry to inform you that our elevators are down,” he said. “Mr. DeMarco is waiting for you in the penthouse. Sixty floors up.”
    Cat and Tess exchanged looks. Cat said, “No problem,” and the man broke into a trademark “Yeah, right” NewYork grin and opened the door with a flourish. Cat pulled out a flashlight, to reveal steep concrete stairs.
    “Officers,” he said.
    Sixty floors.
    Straight up.
    “Remind me again why we wanted this case,” Cat said, and Tess moaned.
    They began to climb.

CHAPTER FIVE
2.32 A.M.
    F ully awake despite the hour, Gabriel Lowan stood inside former agent Bob Reynolds’ cell at Rikers as the FBI Evidence Recovery Unit completed processing the crime scene. The two-person team had already paused once to call in the item that incriminated Catherine: a hand-drawn map of Reynolds’ cell block on the back of a envelope for some junk mail addressed to her, complete with a