Barking orders like a general. When everyone had dispersed, Swig turned to Milo. "I know what you're thinking. We're a bunch of civil-service bumblers. But this is absolutely the first time since I've run this place that we've had anything close to an escape. As a rule, nothing ever-"
"Some people," said Milo, "live for the rules. Me, I deal with the exceptions."
We walked up and down C Ward as Milo inspected doors. Several times, he had Swig unlock hatches. As he peered inside, the noise from within subsided.
"Can't see the entire room through these," he said, fingering a hatch door.
"We've gone over every room," said Swig. "First thing. Everything checks out."
I said, "That unmarked staff elevator door. I assume the inmates know about it."
"We don't make a point of explaining it," said Swig. "But I suppose-"
"Reason I mention it is that yesterday Peake and Heidi came from that direction. It was the first time anyone remembers Peake leaving his room for any length of time.
I'm wondering if he saw someone enter the elevator, got an idea. Does it stop on every floor?"
"It can," said Swig.
"Has anyone checked it?"
"I assume."
Milo bore down on him. "You assume?"
"My orders were to check everywhere."
"Your orders were not to carry weapons."
"I'm sure," said Swig, "that- Fine, to hell with it, I'll show you."
Brown door, slightly wider than those that sealed the inmates' cells. Double key locks, no intercom speaker. Swig keyed the upper bolt and a latch clicked. The door swung open, revealing yet another brown rectangle. Inner door. No handle. Single lock in the center of the panel. The same key operated it, and a flick of Swig's wrist brought forth rumbling gear noise that vibrated through the walls. A few feet away was a smaller door, maybe two feet wide and twice as high.
"Where's the car coming from?" said Milo.
"No way to tell," said Swig. "It's a little slow, should be here soon."
"The first time we were here," I said, "Phil Hatterson called upstairs, spoke to someone, and got the elevator sent down. You can't do that with this one."
"Right," said Swig. "The call box for the main elevator is in the nursing station. A tech's in there at all times to monitor meds. Part of station duty's also monitoring inter-floor transport."
"Did Frank Dollard ever have that duty?"
"I'm sure he did. The staff circulates. Everyone does a bit of everything."
"When the elevators are keyed remotely, what determines where they stop?"
"You leave the key in until the elevator arrives. When an approved person-someone with a key-rides up, he can release the lock mechanism and punch buttons in the elevator."
"So once the lock's been released, this operates like any other elevator."
"Yes," said Swig, "but you can't release anything without a key, and only the staff has keys."
"Do you ever remaster the locks?"
"If there's a problem," said Swig.
"Which never happens," said Milo.
Swig flinched. "It doesn't take something of this magnitude to remaster, Detective.
Anything out of the ordinary-a key reported stolen-and we change the tumblers immediately."
"Must be a hassle," said Milo. "AH those keys to replace."
"We don't have many hassles."
"When's the last time the tumblers were changed, Mr. Swig?"
"I'd have to check."
"But not recently, that you can recall."
"What are you getting at?" said Swig.
"One more thing," said Milo. "Each ward is sectioned by those double doors. Every time you walk through, you have to unlock each one."
"Exactly," said Swig. "It's a maze. That's the point." "How many keys do the techs need to carry to negotiate the maze?"
"Several," said Swig. "I never counted."
"Is there a master key?"
"I have a master."
Milo pointed to the key protruding from the inner elevator door. The rumbling continued, louder, as the lift approached. "That it?"
"Yes. There's also a copy in the safe in one of the data rooms on the first floor.
And yes, I checked it. Still there, no tampering."
The door groaned open. The compartment was small, harshly lit, empty. Milo looked in. "What's that?"
Pointing to a scrap on the floor.
"Looks like paper," said Swig.
"Same paper as the sandals the inmates wear?"
Swig took a closer look. "I suppose it could be-I don't see any blood."
"Why would there be blood?"
"He cut Frank's throat-"
"There were no bloody footprints in Peake's room," said Milo. "Meaning Peake did a nice clean job of it, stepped away as he cut. Not bad for a crazy man."
"Hard to believe," said Swig.
"What is?"
"Just what you said. Peake mobilizing that much skill."
"Close this elevator," said Milo. "Keep it locked, don't let anyone in. When the crime-scene people come, I want them to remove that paper first thing."
Swig complied. Milo pointed to the smaller door. "What's that?" "Disposal chute for garbage," said Swig. "It goes straight down to the basement." "Like a dumbwaiter,"
"Exactly."
"I don't see any latches or key locks," said Milo. "How does it open?"
"There's a lever. In the nursing station." "Show me."
Swig unlocked the station. Three walls of glass, a fourth filled with locked steel compartments. The room felt like a big telephone booth. Swig pointed to the metal wall. "Meds and supplies, always locked."
I looked around. No desks, just built-in plastic counters housing a multiline phone, a small switchboard, and an intercom microphone. Set into the front glass was a six-inch slot equipped with a sliding steel tray.
"Too narrow to get their hands through," said Swig, with defensive pride. "They line up, get their pills, nothing's left to chance."
"Where's the lever?" said Milo.
Reaching under the desk, Swig groped. A snapping sound filled the booth. We left the station and returned to the hall. The garbage chute had unhinged at the top, creating a small metal canopy.
"Big enough for a skinny man." Milo stuck his head in and emerged sniffing. "Peake wasn't exactly obese."
Swig said, "Oh, come on-"
"What else is in the basement?"
"The service areas-kitchen, laundry, pantry, storage. Believe me, it's all been checked thoroughly."
"Deliveries come through the basement level?"
"Yes."
"So there's a loading dock."
"Yes, but-"
"How can you be sure Peake's not hiding out in a bin of dirty laundry?"
"Because we've checked and double-checked. Go see for yourself."
Milo tapped the elevator door. "Does this go up to the fifth floor, too-where the fakers are kept?"
Swig looked offended. "The 1368's. Yes."
"Does the main elevator go there, too?"
"No. The fifth floor has its own elevator. Express from ground level to the top."
"A third elevator," said Milo.
"For Five only. Security reasons," said Swig. "The 1368's come in and out. Using the main elevator for all that traffic would create obvious logistical problems. The jail bus lets them off around the back, at the 1368 reception center. They get processed and go straight up to Five. No stops-they have no access to the rest of the hospital."
"Except for the staff elevator."
"They don't use the staff elevator."
"Theoretically."
"Factually," said Swig.
"If you want to segregate the fifth floor completely, why even have the staff elevator go there?"
"It's the way the hospital was built," said Swig. "Logical, don't you think? If something happens on Five and the staff needs backup, we're ready for them."
"Ready," said Milo, "by way of a slow elevator. How often does something happen on
Five?"
"Rarely."
"Give me a number."
Swig rubbed a mole. "Once, twice a year-what does it matter? We're talking temporary disruption, not a riot. Some 1368 trying too hard to impress us with how crazy he is. Or a fight. Don't forget, plenty of the evaluees are gang members." Swig sniffed contemptuously. Every society had its castes.
"Let's have a look at Five," said Milo. "Through the reception center. I don't want anyone to touch that piece of paper."
"Even if it is an inmate slipper," said Swig, "that wouldn't make it Peake's. All the inmates are issued-" He stopped. "Sure, sure, staff only-what was I thinking?"
On the way down, he said, "You think I'm some bureaucrat who doesn't give a damn. I took this job because I care about people. I adopted two orphans."
We got out on the first floor, exited the way we'd come in, followed Swig around the left side of the building. The side we'd never seen. Or been told about.
Identical concrete pathway. Bright lights from the roof yellowed five stories, creating a giant waffle of clouded windows.
Another door, identical to the main entrance.
The structure was two-faced.
A painted sign said INTAKE AND EVALUATION. A guard blocked the entry. Ten yards away, to the left, was a small parking lot, empty, separated from the yard by a chain-link-bordered path that reminded me of a giant dog run. The walkway veered, bled into darkness. Not visible as you crossed the main yard. Not accessible from the main entry. So there was another way onto the grounds, an entirely different entry.
Off to the right I saw the firefly bounce of searchlights, the outer borders of the uninhabited yard we'd seen yesterday, hints of the annex buildings. Unlit, too far to make out details. The search seemed to be carrying on beyond the annexes, fireflies clustering near what had to be the pine forest.
"How many roads enter the hospital grounds?" I said.
"Two," said Swig. "One, really. The one you've taken."
"What about there?" I pointed to the small parking lot.
"For jail buses only. Special access path clear around the eastern perimeter. The drivers have coded car keys. Even staff can't access the gates without my permission."
I indicated the distant searchlights. "And that side? Those pine trees. How do you get in there?"
"You don't," said Swig. "No access from the western perimeter, it's all fenced." He walked ahead and nodded at the guard, who stepped aside.
The intake center's front room was proportioned identically to that of the hospital entrance. Front desk, same size as Lindeen's, gunboat gray, bare except for a phone.
No bowling trophies, no cute slogans. Lindeen's counterpart was a bullet-headed tech perched behind the rectangle of county-issue steel. Reading a newspaper, but when he saw Swig, he snapped the paper down and stood.
Swig said, "Anything unusual?"
"Just the lockdown, sir, per your orders."
"I'm taking these people up." Swig rushed us past a bare hall, into yet another elevator and up. Fast ride to Five, during which he used his walkie-talkie to check on the search's progress.
The door slid open.
"Keep on it," he barked, before jamming the intercom into his pocket. His armpits were soaked. A vein behind his left ear throbbed.
Two sets of double doors, over each a painted sign: i AND E,
RESTRICTED ACCESS. As Opposed tO what?
Where the nursing station would have been was empty space. The ward was a single hall lined with bright blue doors. Higher tech-inmate ratio: a dozen especially large men patrolled.
Milo asked to look inside a cell.
Swig said, "We went room-to-room here, too."
"Let me see one, anyway."
Swig called out, "Inspection!" and three techs jogged over.
"Detective Sturgis wants to see what a 1368 looks like. Open a door."
"Which one?" said the largest of the men, a Samoan with an unpronounceable name on his tag and a soft, boyish voice.
"Pick one."
