Chapter Three: The Miracle List

The morgue began to warm. The thermostat climbed from minus eighteen to twelve degrees while metal drawers hammered against their housings, all pulled toward Zenith Tower by an invisible load. “Third pipe on the right,” Zhou said. “Ten seconds.” He threw Lin down. Steam burst across the corridor and shattered a camera. Zhou had not predicted the future; he had seen shear forces growing inside the bolts. Under cover of vapor, they shorted the locked exit with the battery from Zhao’s wristband and escaped into the rain. An unmarked car entered the alley. Behind its rear window, silver lenses flashed. The Weaver was inside. Lin raised her phone. He held one finger to his lips.