“You know we don’t have decent reception up here.”

“Gravenholtz left special equipment behind at my house…a high-tech phone, supposed to be able to cut through the atmospheric problems. I was assured-”

“There’s been a problem,” said the Colonel. “I’m sorry, John.”

The silence in the tunnel was even more unsettling than the echo of their lowered voices.

“I think you better tell me what the problem is, Colonel,” Moseby said softly.

“You giving the orders now, son?” said the Colonel.

Moseby hesitated. “No.”

The Colonel pursed his lips. “One of Lester’s old comrades, man named Jeeter, was left in charge back at your house. Evidently this Jeeter deserted his post, taking the phone with him. It’s quite valuable-”

“What happened to my family?”

“I’m sure they’re quite all right-”

“Colonel, right now I don’t give a good goddamn if you’re sure or not. I want to see my family. I want to be on that chopper in twenty minutes.”

“You think you give the orders here, Mr. Moseby?” The Colonel’s face tightened, his jaw set. “Give me another order. Go on, Mr. Moseby, please…tell me what to do.”

They were inches apart, close enough that Moseby could smell the tobacco on the Colonel’s breath and the coffee he’d had an hour earlier. Close enough that Moseby could dash his brains out on the rock wall with one quick movement. That wouldn’t bring Moseby back to his family, though.

“You two boys shouldn’t fight,” said Baby. “Colonel, you can’t blame John for worrying about his family, it’s the most natural thing in the world to do. And John, you should know that if it was in the Colonel’s power to let you visit your wife and daughter, he’d do it. Just that there’s been too many helicopter trips off this mountain. People in flyover country are starting to wonder what’s going on here, and right now we don’t need the attention. So just as soon as we can, you’re going to be sent right back with your kin. And with your pockets full of money to boot. Isn’t that better than standing here mad at each other?”

Moseby and the Colonel stayed squared off.

“I want your word,” said Moseby.

The Colonel stuck his hand out, and they shook. “And I want your best efforts, John.” He glanced back into the tunnel. “Are we done here? Because I’ve seen enough of this place to last me a good long while.”

“There’s a few scrape marks on the floor further on that are rather interesting,” said Moseby. “Nothing certain, but-”

“Do what you need to do,” said the Colonel. “Baby? Shall we?”

“If you want me to proceed, Colonel, I’m going to need additional help,” said Moseby. “There’s been a cave-in further down the tunnel. I don’t think it was deliberate. No trace of explosives being used. More an aspect of the calcium carbonate that permeates the rock, makes it brittle-”

“Yes, yes,” said the Colonel. “Get to the point.”

“I need a crew of men to clear the shaft, but it’s going to be hard and dangerous,” said Moseby. “Round-the-clock work, because we have to chip away the collapsed section into small enough pieces-”

“Anything you need. Just make it happen.”

The floor light flickered again.

“I want to select the best men from the other crews working the site,” said Moseby. “I already know who I want. The other bosses are going to be pissed off at me grabbing their best-”

“Just do it.” The Colonel’s voice echoed. “Any problems from the bosses, you tell them to take it up with me.”

“I’m going to start bunking with the miners, Colonel. Just so you know. You can reassign my bodyguards, I won’t need them.”

“There a problem?”

“Just trying to make things run smoother.”

“Fine. No more bodyguards. Just let me know where your tent is.”

“Colonel…one more thing. I can appreciate your desire to maintain security, but you’re hampering my ability to find whatever it is you’re looking for by not telling me the specifics. What’s the weight? The size? One container or more? Does it have a magnetic or a radioactive signature?”

“Why do you ask about a radioactive signature?” the Colonel said quietly.

“Because, Colonel…” Moseby made sure there was just the three of them in the tunnel. “There’s not a whole lot of things small enough to get through this tunnel, but worth enough to justify the scale of your dig. If it’s not Fort Knox gold, maybe it’s something from New York or Washington, D.C.”

The Colonel’s shadow waved on the walls.

“Tell him, Colonel,” said Baby. “One look at Mr. Moseby and you know he’s different from the others. He’s a finder. You can trust him.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, snuggled against him. “Shoot, you owe him the truth. He’s risking his life down here at the bottom of the earth.”

The Colonel nodded, beckoned Moseby closer. “Somewhere down here, Mr. Moseby, hidden safely away…is the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States, the most sacred documents of the former regime. I intend for us to find them, Mr. Moseby, whatever the cost.”

Chapter 27

The monorail into downtown Atlanta put even the grand transit system of Seattle to shame. Seattle’s elevated train was clean, smooth, and free of graffiti, but even the second-class cars of the new Atlanta monorail had plush seats, soft music, and the scent of magnolias piped in. No telling what first-class amenities were. Rakkim would have liked to find out but Idents weren’t allowed in first class. He enjoyed the last of the sun warming the glass of the train.

The outskirts of the Belt capital were the usual shabby apartments and run-down homes with brown lawns, but the people getting on to ride into the city were well dressed, the women in short, frilly skirts and purple anteater-skin boots, the men in suits with high collars and tight pants. They weren’t heading into the capital for a night on the town, they were the working poor looking their best for their service jobs taking care of the capital’s overclass-making drinks, driving town cars, or serving tiger prawn satay or veal tartare to the sleek civil servants, tech workers, and international-business desk jockeys that were the hot blood of Atlanta.

Rakkim had bought himself and Leo new clothes, spending more than he anticipated on his credit chip, but even so, he felt underdressed. From the glances of the other riders, it was a majority opinion. Even the Idents were fashionable.

“I’m scared,” whispered Leo.

“It’s okay,” said Rakkim.

“I checked the security phone for bugs,” said Leo. “I thought I found them all, but I was wrong.”

Rakkim stared at his hands. He had a small blister on each of his thumbs from digging graves for the Tigard family.

“I was wrong,” said Leo. “I’m never wrong about things like that.” Leo’s knees bounced rapidly up and down. “What happens when we get to the mountain? Maybe…maybe I’m not as smart as I think I am.”

“Little late in the game for humility, Leo. I liked you better when you were working out the value of pi to a hundred places while pounding it to Leanne.”

“Me too.” Leo caught himself. “I don’t like that phrase, ‘pounding it,’ in reference to Leanne.”

Through the scenic glass Rakkim could see that new skyscrapers had been built since his last visit. A couple of them had to be 250 or 300 stories at least, all titanium and glass, squatty at the base and tapering to fine points. South American money, for the most part, the Brazilian and Columbian conglomerates staking their claim, buying prime real estate in the capital. There were office buildings in Dubai and Singapore over four hundred stories tall, buildings that issued separate weather reports depending on your floor, but these new ones in Atlanta were impressive nonetheless. Nice to see a skyline without antiterror blimps hovering overhead or antiaircraft batteries on the rooftops-for all its flaws the Belt didn’t attract the hostility that the Islamic Republic did; its enemies preferred economic pressure and constant territorial encroachment rather than direct attacks.