We fell silent, along with most everybody in the room. When life resumed, so did the argument, but at a lower pitch.

“What’s with the boss?” I murmured.

Rubio’s mouth twisted. “Some of the lads have a hard-on to avenge the Macys attack. They want to go in all barrels blazing.”

“So does Maxine,” noted Irv.

The Macys. Again, I’d totally forgotten. “How are they doing?”

“Winning converts. Rousseau sounds shakier every moment.”

“I meant the kids.” The mess hall doors were closed, probably to block the noise.

Rubio shrugged. “Rivera took ’em in hand after the other dens left. What’s this little number in a circle?”

No getting past this obsession. “Refers to an adjoining chart. Which you might not have.”

He leafed through the stack of charts. “This might be it.”

“You’re planning a route to that sports place?”

“Tito’s shifting the outboard to the rubber floaty thing,” Rubio said. He and Irv pumped fists at each other like boys.

“The Zodiac.” Irv gave me an approving smile. “Rube told me your story. It’s cool you knew all this stuff and now you’re getting it back again.”

“Slowly, yeah. It’s coming.” And you don’t know the half of it. I meant to fill Rube in about my memory quake, but if I tried now, he’d barely pay attention and I’d be devastated. “Can I go with you?”

Rubio gathered up charts and maps, sliding them into a plastic hold-all along with a tattered sketch pad and a bundle of pencils. “No room. Not your area of expertise.”

“What isn’t?”

“Baseball.”

“Maybe I’ll remember all about it. And if you get lost, who’ll read the chart symbols?”

“Why I’ve got to pick your brain now. We’re taking Hawk and two of the lads. Rousseau insisted we take some muscle.”

“Why? They’ll just get in the way. Better off if you took Breakers . . . or Spunk.”

“He and Jake are already off to the Souk to suss things out up there. Actually, I think he wants us to get these two gumbos out of the den.” He waved a careless hand toward the argument. “They’re ringleaders of the mutiny.”

“Mutiny? It’s that serious? But Rousseau’s their god . . .”

Irv said, “Pretty sure our guys are encouraging it, with Maxine stirring up the pot.”

“Hard to blame her . . . or them,” Rubio said. “With the Smiths armed and all, the lads have something better to fight with than their fists.”

No wonder Rousseau was yelling. But I had other worries. “Why don’t you let me go, and you stay home and rest? You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Fuck it. I wouldn’t miss this trip for all the world.”

“How far is it?”

“About eight miles, if you’re walking.”