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“Now.” Without waiting for a response, Cooper resumed his sprint. They’d covered half a Manhattan mile in the five minutes since the video hit had come in. Not bad, but not good enough. Not with Dr. Abraham Couzen only a few blocks away.

Ten in the morning and cold, the wind whipping down the avenue, channeled by redbrick buildings and construction barricades. The pedestrians Cooper shoved past carried coffee cups and purses, checked watches or spoke on phones, but to his eyes, they all had the edgy uncertainty of hostages told to act normal. In a deli window, a newspaper taped to the glass held a full-page photo of the smoking ruin that had once been the White House, the marble columns tossed like toys around the impact crater, beneath the words NEVER FORGET.

Not a problem, Cooper thought, and blitzed across 3rd, ignoring the scream of car horns. The tip had come from Valerie West, his old teammate at the DAR. Whispering like she was afraid of being overheard, she’d told him that a cluster of security cameras had face-matched Couzen. “Just standing there like he’s taking the air. The prick.”

An appraisal he shared. Dr. Couzen was the last hope of preventing full-scale war. All of the horrors of the last years—the academies where brilliant children were brainwashed, the rise of John Smith and his terrorist movement, the legislation to microchip abnorms, the devastation of three cities, the massacre of soldiers attacking the New Canaan Holdfast, all of it—they were just symptoms. The root cause was the inequity between normals and brilliants.

Abe Couzen and Ethan had found the cure. They had managed to replicate brilliance. To give normal people gifts. Once that was public, there would be no motive for war. No need for the majority to fear the abilities of a tiny minority, and consequently, no need for the few to fear the wrath of the many. No reason for the world to burn.

Except that instead of sharing their discovery, Abraham Couzen had packed it up and vanished. And the world had caught fire.

It might not be too late. If you can get to him first.

Pouring on extra speed, Cooper hit the corner and spun south, Ethan panting along behind. Valerie had done them a massive favor, but the same camera scan that had alerted her would have pinged others at the Department of Analysis and Response, not to mention moles in the DAR whose real allegiance was to the New Canaan Holdfast, or worse, to John Smith’s terrorist organization. No doubt a shadow army was converging on 42nd and Lex.

Under the circumstances, there hadn’t been time to come up with anything as refined as a plan. What he had barely qualified as an intention: get to Couzen first, and hope that Ethan would be able to convince his old mentor to see reason. If that didn’t work, option B was to knock him out and drag him. Which would be fun in midtown Manhattan.

Lexington was five lanes here, southbound, a moving mass of taxis and buses. He sprinted past a Duane Reade, shoved between a couple of tourists with cameras, leapt into the street and back to avoid a pack of schoolgirls. The sidewalks held enough people that it took all of Cooper’s attention to screen his moves. His gift afforded him an enormous advantage one-on-one, but was jammed by crowds; subconsciously, he kept trying to calculate the intention of every individual at the same time. Cooper gritted his teeth and kept pushing until suddenly he was free.

Too suddenly. And too late.

Fifteen feet away, a group stood in an edgy cluster. The one in the center was stoop shouldered and frail, with the jerky mannerisms of a bird. For all his accomplishments, Dr. Abraham Couzen looked like the kind of cranky homeless man who yelled at ATMs.

The four men surrounding him had broad shoulders and an air of intense alertness. Their suits were decent but not high end, and tailored to conceal shoulder holsters. Field agents. And, surprise surprise, the man in charge was Bobby Quinn, his old partner. Which meant the Department of Analysis and Response had beaten them here. Not by much, but life could change in—

Making Couzen’s work public is the last hope for preventing a war.

Bobby Quinn could be convinced, but it might not be his call.

So what, then? Attack four DAR agents, including your buddy?

Well, they are focused on arresting Couzen. If you—

Holy shit!

—seconds.

It happened as fast as Cooper had ever seen. One instant the doctor’s heartbeat was seventy-five beats a minute, slightly elevated but in line with the circumstances. The next it had leapt to a hundred and fifty.