"They work a lot better now," said Leo. "I gave a few suggestions to a couple of the brighter local kids, showed them how to tweak the grid."

The houses were bigger in this part of the district, three or four families sharing the space. A garden in every backyard, covered now with mulch to protect against the autumn frost. Cooking smells drifted from the kitchens, fried potatoes, green beans…bacon. Her stomach growled. She spotted a lookout hidden along the main access road leading to the rest of the city; a teenager in a hooded sweatshirt sporting night-vision goggles. Leo gave a hand signal as they passed, the teenager returning the sign.

"You made yourself at home here fast," said Sarah.

"I learned that from Rakkim." Leo sniffled, wiped his nose. "You should have seen him in the Belt. Some redneck would be fumbling for change to pay for cigarettes and Rakkim would toss a silver dollar onto the counter. Next thing you know, we're invited to dinner and hearing all about his job at the filling station and all the government people who've been stopping for gas the last few days."

They reached the base of an unused water tower covered in faded graffiti-SEAHAWKS and GO KANGS! and REPENT and LWHS CLASS OF 2009, crude drawings of frogs and a husky dog, dozens of hearts with initials in them. Leo eased into the shadows, looked around, then scrambled up the rusty metal ladder along one side. Sarah was stunned. Before he left for the Belt with Rakkim, Leo had been afraid of heights, afraid of cramped spaces, afraid of bugs and loud noises. She followed him up the ladder.

Leo waited for her at the top. Held out a hand.

She ignored the offer, pulled herself up onto the catwalk. She kept one hand on the metal railing and tried not to look down. It was windier up here. From this vantage point, Sarah could see the tail section of a jetliner sticking out of Elliott Bay, the result of a failed suicide attack on the city twenty years earlier by a renegade Christian sect. The wreckage had been left untouched as a reminder to the citizens to remain alert.

Leo surveyed the sky, head thrown back as he took in the security blimps ringing the city, a shifting grid of low-flying airships designed to shield the city from satellite surveillance and scramble the electronics of any attacker. "They made a mistake."

"Who did?" said Sarah.

"Whoever programmed the blimps." Leo pointed. "See? Northeast quadrant. They left a gap in the coverage."

"I'm sure it doesn't matter-"

"It's a mistake. Somebody didn't do a proper vector analysis. You don't see it, do you?"

"I don't." Sarah tickled him, made him squirm. "You must feel sorry for the rest of us."

"It's like being surrounded by sleepwalkers, but…sometimes I think maybe you're the lucky ones." Leo rubbed his forehead, caught himself. "I get so lonely."

"Have you spoken with Leanne?"

"Yeah, I have a secure channel set up."

"You're not lonely when you talk with her, are you?"

"That…that's what I wanted to talk with you about." More than ever, Leo looked like an enormous infant, smooth and soft, his features unformed. "Leanne…she says I sound different now."

"It's hard being apart," said Sarah. "Sometimes when Rikki comes home from a mission it takes a while for us to get back to where we were before he left. It doesn't mean we don't still love each other." She patted his hand. "Give Leanne a chance to adjust. You were only together for a few days."

"A few days was all I needed."

"Women need more."

"That's what Rakkim said." Leo watched the stars over the city, the blinking lights from airplanes making their approach, cataloging it all. "Rakkim…don't tell him, but he's my only friend. It's kind of stupid, because shadow warriors, their job is to make you like them…but even knowing that, I still think that we're friends."

"You are friends, Leo."

Leo blushed.

Sarah watched the stars. Wondered if Rakkim was watching them too.

"I don't think Leanne's father…I don't think Mr. Moseby likes me," said Leo. "Maybe I intimidate him. I do that to people."

"From what Rakkim's told me about him, I rather doubt that."

"I asked Leanne to marry me, but that didn't work out so great. She said she loves me, but she didn't want to rush things."

"Good for her. You've got time."

"What if we don't?" Leo's voice cracked. "What if those few days were all we had?"

"Then act like you've got forever. Be brave. Fake it if you have to."

"Fake it." Leo chewed it over. "I could do that." He cleared his throat. "Thank you."

"Glad I could help."

In the distance, the Grand Abdullah mosque dominated First Hill and the darkened fundamentalist district. Sarah turned away, preferred watching the ferries chugging across the water, their wake lit by moonlight.

"You ever think about leaving?" said Leo.

"No."

"Never? You're always talking about how we're falling apart."

"The Republic is being nibbled to death," said Sarah. "Aztlan wants the Southwest back, Canada wants the Great Lakes and the Mormon territories are already gone. China and India own half of our heavy industries, Russia floats our bonds. The Belt is in even worse shape. That's no reason to run away. We're weak because we're divided. The only way the two nations are going to survive is to become one nation again."

"Good luck with that." Leo spit over the railing. "Nothing wrong with running away. No more Republic, no more Belt, just grab Leanne and go. Start over someplace new. Someplace safe."

"There's no such place, Leo." Sarah looked across the bay, stared at the red warning lights blinking on the tail section of the downed plane. "So…do you think you can find that secure room in D.C. for me?"

"You don't give up."

"No. I don't."

"You want my help finding a piece of Jesus' cross…" Leo massaged his gums with a forefinger. "You do remember Spider and I are Jewish, right?"

"So was Jesus."

Leo shrugged.

"Here's a story that may interest you-it certainly made me curious the first time I heard it," said Sarah. "Shortly after taking communion, on January 28, 814, the Emperor Charlemagne died and was buried in a cathedral in Germany. This was a man who had conquered most of Europe, and forcefully converted more people to Christianity than anyone before or since; the epitome of the holy warrior." She leaned closer to Leo. "Two hundred years later, Count Otto of Lomello secretly entered the cathedral shortly after midnight, accompanied only by the bishop and two of the count's trusted retainers. The bishop led them down a winding flight of stairs deep into the catacombs under the church, the four of them moving silently through the darkness, candles glinting on the bones stacked against the narrow passageway. After what seemed like hours, they finally broke through a false wall, and discovered the emperor's true resting place, a marble tomb sheathed in frost." She smiled. "So of course they pried open the door."

"And the tomb was empty," sneered Leo.

Sarah slowly shook her head. "No, Charlemagne was there, seated on a throne of gold, a crown on his head, but though his fine robes had rotted away…his flesh showed no sign of decay, his face so peaceful that he might as well have been asleep. The duke, a veteran of many wars, dropped his candle, the bishop muttering prayers as the darkness closed in."

Leo shivered. "You…you said it was cold in the tomb."

"Not that cold," said Sarah. "Clutched in the emperor's hand was a small, rough piece of wood. When the duke overcame his fear and pried the emperor's fingers away from it…the emperor crumbled to dust."

Leo stared at her. "That's…a good story, but people can say anything."

"The duke wrote it all down," said Sarah. "Wrote it in his own blood. I've read it myself. His Latin was atrocious, but I believed every word of it." Music drifted up from one of the nearby houses, and she nodded her head to the beat. "I read his account three years ago in a small monastery outside the city of Leipzig. The duke…the piece of the cross didn't do what he expected it to do. Not for him. The bishop committed suicide shortly after they violated the tomb, a mortal sin piled on mortal sin. The duke's retainers went mad. The duke, terrified, entered the monastery, handed over the piece of the cross to the abbot and wrote the story of the theft as a confession. He lived in a stone cell in the monastery for another forty years, and never spoke a word."