The drone spotted nothing but old cobblestones and thick ice until it reached the tangled body. Except it wasn’t a body, it was a discarded NYPD jacket and pants surrounded by the contents of Mike’s pockets. There was no sign of his service weapon or badge. Both would fetch Obamas on the black market, and losing either was grounds for immediate contract termination. It looked like Mike would be joining the three hundred million unemployed even if Alice did get him back. She hoped he’d saved enough to get by, but with hyperinflation, who knew what that was anymore?