“I wonder what’s inside that wagon,” Angeline said. Rector barely heard her—the noise of the machine’s engine made everything sound shaky and faint.

“Supplies for making sap?” he guessed.

The engine cut off, and the mayhem of its clatter died down. It settled into near-silence, except for a few pings and whistles as the motor cooled.

Caplan reached down to the seat beside him and picked up a mask, then put it on and opened the door to let himself out. He stepped down to the ground and slapped the door shut again, then stomped forward to shake hands with Isaac West and his companion.

“It’s about time,” West greeted him. “What do you think of the place?”

“I think it’s a shithole if I ever saw one,” Caplan said disdainfully, and if he weren’t wearing a mask, Rector thought he might’ve spit on the ground for emphasis. “But if Yaozu can make it work, we can, too. I won’t be outdone by no goddamn yellow Chinaman who thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

Angeline snorted quietly. The snort spoke volumes, so Rector was unsurprised to hear her mumble, “This one dresses real nice, but he talks real trashy. Says everything I need to know about him, don’t it?”

“I expect it does,” he agreed.

Otis Caplan said, “Anyone else around, or just you two?”

“Jay and Martin are upstairs.”

“Go get ’em. These things are heavy, and I can’t leave them sitting in the back. That part ain’t sealed, and the air will corrode them ’til they’re useless.”

Isaac West ordered the man with the scraped-up leg upstairs with a bob of his head. He sighed, but didn’t argue—not in front of Otis Caplan. Instead, he slowly turned and went through the white gate. Just out of sight, Rector heard a door open and shut with a soft scraping noise. It made him think of the seals on some of the underground doors. This impression was confirmed as he eavesdropped further and Caplan asked, “How’s the tower coming?”

“We got the interior drained, cleaned, and closed up. It’s practically a fortress in there, and it goes down to a basement level we didn’t know about. We got that dried out, too, and we’re checking its integrity now.”

“But is it airtight?”

“Not yet, but we’re working on it. Up top, we almost got it sorted—all we need is a little more glass and some better sealant. Then, of course, we gotta find a way to pump the bad air out, and pump good air in. We can get it as tight as we like it, but that won’t do us no good if we can’t breathe what we’ve trapped.”

“The people who live here have got something figured out.”