“Then maybe it helped…No, I suppose that’s silly.”

Arthur stood with hands in pockets, shaken despite the months of preparation. He felt vaguely guilty for not thinking of Harry; he had called several times before leaving Oregon, and had been unable to speak to his friend. He took a deep breath and indicated they should climb the stairs to the market. “I wanted him to know that not everything was lost. I hope it helped. It’s so difficult sorting everything out.”

They passed in silence through the mostly empty aisles, stopping at a bakery to buy coffee and sitting at a white wrought-iron table placed between shops.

“How have they kept you busy?” Arthur asked.

“I’ve been visiting libraries, universities. Locating people…That’s how I’m most useful, apparently. I help find people the network is looking for, scientists, candidates.”

“I haven’t been doing much of anything yet,” Hicks said. “Do you know…who the candidates are?”

“Not really. There are so many more names than places. I don’t think any of us are making the final choices.”

“Terrifying, isn’t it?” Arthur said.

“In a way.”

“Have you heard anything about the bogeys? On the network, I mean.”

“Nothing,” Hicks said.

“Do you think we’ve slowed them down, done any good by blowing them up?”

Hicks smiled grimly. “No. Just about as effective as Crockerman.”

“But he didn’t…at least, I presume he had nothing to do with the action in Death Valley.”

“That’s right,” Hicks said. “He’s done nothing. So have the hotheads. Certainly, they’ve boosted our morale a little…but nobody believes they’ve fixed anything. The bullets still spin.”

“Then what purpose did the bogeys serve?” Arthur asked.

“You stated it once. They were a distraction, a misdirection. We’ve concentrated almost all our attention on them.”

Arthur blinked. “I didn’t think they were just decoys.”

Hicks shook his head. “Neither did I.”

Arthur pushed aside his sweet roll, all appetite gone. “They dropped them here, to deceive us, test us, as if we were laboratory mice?”

“I would say so, now, wouldn’t you?”

Arthur shook his head. “That burns.”

“Insult before injury,” Hicks said.

“Have you discussed this with others on the network?”

“No. We’ve been far too busy with other things. But the network has been given no instructions whatsoever by the Boss regarding the bogeys. We have not been instructed to recruit the President. You know that Lehrman is Possessed?”

Arthur nodded.

“The Boss has written off our entire military and government effort. Obviously.” Hicks held out his hands and stood, gathering his foam-plastic cup and waxed-paper wrapper. “So I stay here, help with whatever effort is made in Seattle. And you move south.”

Arthur remained seated, stunned. He should have assembled all the facts. He was disappointed in himself to find he had still harbored some illusions.

“Sorry to be the one to tell you about Mr. Feinman,” Hicks said.

Arthur nodded.

“Tonight I’m joining a group staying on Queen Anne Hill,” Hicks said. “We’ll reconnoiter from there.” He held out his hand. “Best of luck to you and your family.”

Arthur stood and shook it firmly. “Good-bye,” he said.

They looked at each other, not voicing the single question too obvious to ask. Is he chosen? Am I?

Hicks returned to his car. A few moments later, after surveying the fresh fish stalls and vegetable markets and purchasing a pound of smoked salmon and several bags of fruit, Arthur descended the stairs and crossed the parking lot and street to join Francine and Marty at the aquarium.

57

An ancient Chevy Vega with Texas license plates crossed the stone bridge in the opposite direction and honked at Edward. Edward turned and saw a collage of bumper stickers covering the back of the car, including the trunk and lower corners of the rear window. One glaring Day-Glo pink sticker immediately caught his eye: REGISTER PUSSY NOT FIREARMS. A faded yellow plastic square hung in the window’s upper corner: CAUTION! CHILD DRIVING.

“Hey, Edward!”

“Minelli!” He walked to the window and leaned down to wrap his hand around the back of Minelli’s neck. “You madman. You own this?” He spread his palm at the Vega.

“Bought it three weeks ago, complete with decoration. A beauty, isn’t it?”

“I am genuinely glad to see you.”

“I am glad to be seen. It was rough for a while after we parted. You went back to Texas?”

“That’s right,” Edward said. “How about you?”

“I made a scene in the institute office. They pulled my papers and kicked me out and said go ahead, sue us. I was going nuts. I bought this and I’ve been driving around ever since. I went to Shoshone again and dropped by the grocery store. Said hi to everybody. Stella wasn’t there. She was off in Las Vegas talking to lawyers about mineral deals. Bernice was there. She asked about you. I said you were fine. Are you?”

“I’m great,” Edward said. “Park and take a walk with me.”

“Where to?”

“I hear there are rock climbers on El Capitan.”

“Hot damn. Just like Disneyland.”

Minelli parked the car under a cloud of blue exhaust. He patted the trunk before opening it. “Why spend lots of money on something that doesn’t have to last more than a month or two?”

“Looks like it could break down in the middle of nowhere,” Edward commented.

“Hey, I’ve always relied on the kindness of strangers.”

“With your sense of humor, that could be dangerous.”

Minelli shrugged and spread his arms out to the sun. “Ultraviolet rays, do your worst. I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

They followed the asphalt road for two miles, past the Three Brothers, then took a trail for another mile and stood in the El Capitan meadow, looking up at the massive ancient wall of gray granite. A pale streak showed where a sheet of rock had broken off in 1990, revealing unweathered surface.

“It is magnificent. I haven’t been here in ten, twelve years,” Minelli said. “Why’d you come?”

“Childhood memories. Best place on Earth.”

Minelli nodded emphatically. “Wherever I am right now is the best place on Earth, but this is better than most. I don’t see anybody up there. Where are they?”

Edward held up a small pair of field binoculars. “Look for ants trailing ropes and bags,” he said. “There’s five or six up there today, I hear.”

“Christ,” Minelli said, shading his eyes. “I see a black spot. No. It’s a blue spot. Color of my sleeping bag. Is that one?”

Edward drew a line with his finger from the tiny speck of blue. “Look above that a couple of degrees. Here.” He handed Minelli the binoculars. Minelli swept them back and forth in decreasing arcs and stopped, brows rising above the eyepieces. “Got him. Or her. Just hanging there.”

“There’s another above that one,” Edward said. “They must be a team. You can barely see the ropes between them.”

“How long does it take to get to the top?”

“A day, someone told me. Maybe longer. Sometimes they overnight up there, hanging in a bag, or on a ledge if they’re lucky.”

Minelli returned the binoculars. “Makes me queasy just thinking about it.”

Edward shook his head. “I don’t know. I could get into it. Think of the accomplishment. Standing up on top, looking out over everything. Be like building a skyscraper and knowing it was yours.”

Minelli made a dubious face. “What else is happening here? The place is deserted.”

“Practically. There’s a group meeting in the amphitheater at Curry Village this evening. A band is holding a concert tomorrow evening. The rangers are really loose. Some of them are giving tours on the weekend.”

“Everybody’s staying home. Mr. and Mrs. Mom-and-dad huddling next to their TVs, huh?”