Ernst Drexler hung the jacket of his white suit on a hanger in his office closet, then adjusted his vest before seating himself behind his desk. He had to look cool, calm, and most of all, in control. He could not reveal the rage and - yes, he admitted it - fear and uncertainty roiling through his gut.

The man who would knock on the door any minute now could not be allowed to see any of that. Ernst was an actuator, one of the long arms of the Order's Council of Seven. The man arriving was a tool for that arm ...

A tool who had acted on his own.

Or had he? That was the unsettling part.

He rubbed his hands together. Chilly in here. Maybe he should have kept his jacket on. The thick granite walls of the Order's Lower Manhattan Lodge kept it cool in the summer but made it hard to heat in the winter. And he wasn't getting any younger. He'd passed sixty years ago. One felt the cold more in one's seventh decade.

Or was it just his mood?

A knock on the door.

"Come."

Kris Szeto entered in his beloved black leather jacket. He had black hair, swarthy skin, and always appeared to need a shave, even when he didn't. He had been living in America for years but maintained a Eurotrash look. His face still exhibited faint reminders of the severe beating he'd sustained two weeks ago. The bruises had cleared but a couple of fresh scars remained.

"You wished to see me?" he said in Eastern Bloc - flavored English as he came to a stop before the desk.

Control ... keep the voice steady.

"Yes. It has come to my attention that Claudiu Ozera is dead."

The incident was all over the news. Four men had opened fire on an elderly woman in Central Park this morning. A fifth gunman came to her aid, killing one of her attackers before whisking her away. The dead man had not been identified to the public, but a brother of the Order who was also a member of the NYPD had reported it to the Council. The news came as a shock. Ozera had been assigned to Szeto. Szeto was assigned to Ernst. The Council was in an uproar over it: Why was a member of the Order involved in a public shootout? Why hadn't the actuator informed them?

For a very good reason: Ernst had known nothing about it. But he was about to find out.

"Yes. Most unfortunate. An unforeseen circumstance." Szeto's tone was flat, matter-of-fact, as if explaining a spilled quart of milk. "My team engaged target as instructed - "

As instructed? Ernst let it pass for now.

" - and fire many times, make many hits, but she does not go down. Then other man appears, firing. He kills Claudiu and wounds Filip. I am watching from side. Since Lady is not going down, I order retreat."

Ice shot through Ernst's veins. No ... it couldn't be.

"'Lady' ... do you mean the Lady?"

"Yes, of course."

"But she cannot be hurt by bullets."

"I know this. But if the One wishes to have her shot, then I must shoot her, yes?"

Ice was fire compared to the interstellar cold exploding within him now. He couldn't help himself -

"The One? How would you know what the One wishes?"

Szeto's bland expression finally changed. "He came to me and told me."

"You idiot! That was not the One. You've been duped!"

Szeto's face darkened. "I know the One. Is my mother not his housekeeper?"

Yes. Yes, she was. The connection had slipped Ernst's mind. Women weren't allowed in the Order, of course, but the Order supplied the One with staff, and traditionally any woman supplied would be related to a brother.

"But the One knows better than all of us that the Lady can't be shot."

Szeto shrugged. "He tells me shoot Lady, I shoot. I do not question the One."

No one questioned the One.

Szeto's eyes narrowed. "Why is it you do not know of this?"

Ernst had been dreading the question, but was prepared for it.

"I have been out of town on Council business. Most likely he did not want to wait until I returned. The One is not known for his patience. And since he knows you are my right-hand man, he went directly to you."

Szeto nodded slowly as he stared at Ernst. "Yes. That must be it."

Ernst hoped Szeto swallowed the lie. He hadn't been anywhere but here and home in his apartment. The One could have contacted him any time.

Yet he hadn't. He had bypassed Ernst the actuator and gone straight to Szeto the enforcer.

The One had been furious when the Internet meltdown Ernst had engineered failed to remove the Lady. Had he given up on Ernst because of that?

He took a breath and looked at Szeto. "I have not spoken to the One recently. Did he say why he thought bullets might harm the Lady?"

"No. He tells me where she will be and when, and says to gun her down. So that is what I do."

"Of course. And no effect, I assume."

"None."

"And the man who came to her defense? Was he a bodyguard?"

"We observed before we acted. She was walking alone, no sign of anyone following. And besides, Lady does not need bodyguard."

No, of course she doesn't. I'm not thinking straight.

How could he with his world turning upside down?

"Did you recognize him?"

Szeto shook his head. "He was wearing hat and had pistol held before face. And I was helping Filip escape. But he took Claudiu's gun. We have seen this happen before."

Yes ... last summer, when Max and Josef were gunned down at the hospital, and just a couple of weeks ago when Fournier was killed.

"Do you think it's the same man who was protecting Louise Myers and Edward Connell? That would mean he has collected three of your guns in the course of killing half a dozen of your men."

Ernst put the slightest emphasis on each your.

Szeto spoke through clenched teeth. "If it is same man, I want him. The Myers woman can lead me to him..."

"But the One says she is to be left alone. Remember that?"

"I remember. But no matter. I will find him, I will catch up to him one day, and then he will curse his mother for giving him birth."

"Yes, well, good luck on that. Now, if you don't mind..." He shuffled assorted random papers on his desk. "I have some of the Council's business to attend to."

Szeto left without another word. As soon as the door closed behind him, Ernst shot from his seat and began pacing his office. He could not sit still, not after what he'd just heard.

Bypassed! The One had bypassed not only him but the High Council as well, and gone straight to one of the Order's enforcers.

Memory of Ernst's last encounter with the One, here, on this very spot, flashed through his brain. He could still feel the pressure of the One's hand on his throat as he'd lifted him off the floor, the heat of his breath as he'd spoken so close to his face.

You still might prove useful, otherwise ...

Otherwise what he hadn't said. He hadn't had to. Ernst hadn't been able to breathe.

"At last I can take direct action. I may call on you and your Order for minor logistical support, but now that I am free to act, I will take matters into my own hands. I will finish this myself."

And then he'd hurled Ernst across the office.

Ernst rubbed his throat. The bruises had faded away only recently, but the fear hadn't.

I may call on you and your Order for minor logistical support ...

But he hadn't called on Ernst. He'd called on Szeto.

Have I been marginalized?

The possibility brought a surge of bile. Like his father before him, he had devoted his entire life to the Order, to helping the Otherness become ascendant in this world. The Otherness would bring about the Change, and elevate its loyal helpers to allow them not only to survive unscathed in the remade world but to oversee it as well. To be Movers among the Moved.

His father hadn't lived to see the Change, but Ernst fully expected to. He could sense its imminence. And the One would choose those who would be part of the Change rather than merely subject to it. Ernst had fully expected to be among the chosen ...

Until now.

He had failed the One and the One had turned against him. No ... not against him. Simply discarded him.

He had to find a way back into his good graces. If he couldn't, it meant all his years in the Order had been wasted. After the Change he would be just another face in the hordes of oppressed humanity ... looking up to the likes of Szeto for mercy.

No. He would die first.