The Shadow Cabinet by Maureen Johnson Page A

someone’s put the wrong bracelet on. Stephen Dene was meant to have died yesterday morning.”
    She grabbed a latex glove from a dispenser on the wall, snapped it on, and lifted the boy’s arm gently, flexing it at the elbow, looking at the underside of the arm. Then she placed the arm back down carefully and rolled the boy’s whole body slightly to the side, examining the back.
    â€œThere’s no lividity,” Dr. Rivers said. “There’s not even any real pallor to speak of. This can’t be Stephen Dene.”
    â€œI know.” Oren’s eyes had gone very round. “But this is him. I put him here
myself.
Yesterday. I always remember the young ones.”
    Dr. Rivers lifted the boy’s eyelids and looked into his eyes.
    â€œNo clouding of the cornea either. Something’s going on here. Get me a crash cart from the corridor. Now. I need to check his heart.”
    Oren ran for the cart while Dr. Rivers moved the gurney into the middle of the room.
    â€œGet some blankets,” she said, over the rumbling sound of the cart being dragged into the examination room. “What in Christ’s name is going on here?”
    Behind them, the access door opened and Dr. Marigold entered the exam room.
    â€œYou can’t be in here,” the attendant said as he rushed across the room with a pile of sheeting.
    â€œWhat’s going on?”
    â€œWe have a problem,” the pathologist said. “You need to leave.”
    â€œI’m a doctor,” Dr. Marigold said. “Tell me what’s happening.”
    â€œWhat’s happening is this,” the doctor said, indicating the body in front of her. “He’s been declared dead and has been in the cooling unit for a day, but I’m seeing no signs of death. Look at him yourself.”
    Dr. Marigold took the boy’s chin and turned it from side to side, then got very close and examined a laceration at the hairline while the pathologist attached the electrodes to the boy’s chest and switched on the machine. All it produced was a straight line and a dull hum.
    â€œI have absolutely no idea what’s happening,” Dr. Rivers said. “He’s dead but he’s not. We need to move him upstairs at once and start warming him properly. This could be some deep narcoleptic state or . . . I have no idea. We need to phone upstairs.”
    â€œThat won’t be necessary,” Dr. Marigold said, pulling the sheet back up. “I’ll take it from here.”
    â€œYou most certainly will not. I’m not going to release someone who might not be dead.”
    â€œHe has no heartbeat.”
    â€œWell, tell
him
that,” the pathologist snapped. “He also has no clinical signs of death, which means he’s going back upstairs, and he’s going now. You need to step back outside.”
    Dr. Marigold took out her phone and sent a quick text as the pathologist detached the leads. A moment later, the two dark-suited people appeared in the exam room.
    â€œAll of you,” Dr. Rivers said, “out. Now. Or I call security.”
    â€œThis patient is going with us,” Dr. Marigold said calmly. “We are from the Home Office. We outrank hospital security by several orders of magnitude. I will personally take responsibility for this patient.”
    â€œI don’t care what you . . .”
    Oren stood to the side, watching as the two nameless suited people took their places on either side of the gurney. Dr. Marigold opened the bag she had hanging from her shoulder and removed some papers. She passed them to both Dr. Rivers and Oren, along with a pen for each.
    â€œWhat is this?” the pathologist said. “And get away from—”
    â€œIt’s a standard copy of the Official Secrets Act, which I’m going to need you to sign.”
    â€œI’m not signing anything. I’m not releasing the body.”
    â€œI don’t need your