Yaozu began to fashion a sneer, but suppressed it before it was fully formed. It lingered on his face as a slight hint of bitterness.

“Otis is a sap-slinger from California, and he’s talked real big for a while now about how he wants to make more money off his operation. He’s been working with chemists on the Outskirts, cooking up his own varieties. And he wasn’t the only sign of trouble out there—I also saw Isaac West, who’s a chemist I know from Tacoma. He’s been making the ambrosia strain of sap. You may…”—he surveyed the room, but didn’t see any recognition from anyone but Yaozu, who raised an eyebrow, then put it down again—“… or may not have heard of it. It’s a kind of sap that’s just a little different. Tastes different. Has a different…” He gave up trying to explain.

“What I mean is, he’s offering a different product, and he makes it by stealing gas and bullying chemists. He ain’t a nice fellow, and seeing him teamed up with Caplan makes me worry.”

Angeline patted his shoulder again, approvingly this time. “You can sit down now, honey. I’ll take it from here.”

Relieved, Rector did just that—slinking off the counter and skulking back to the piano lid.

When he got there, Zeke punched him gently on the arm. “Stop shaking. You did fine.”

Angeline continued without him. “I believe that these men are bringing dynamite into the city, and they don’t just want it for the wall. They want to put all of you down like groundhogs, blowing up your tunnels and letting you choke on the gas.” A hum of voices rose around her as the assembled men grew worried and turned to one another. But Angeline talked over them until they quieted down. “But we have the advantage here. For one thing, they don’t know we’re on to them.”

Uncertain nods went around the room.

“And for another thing, we know the place better than they do. At best, they might have old maps from when the place was whole—but those don’t amount to much. For yet another thing, they know about the men at the Station”—she slipped a glance at Yaozu, who didn’t acknowledge it—“but they don’t know about the rest of us. Likely as not, they know there are some Chinese here—that rumor’s gone around enough. But they don’t know how many, and they don’t know how many friends they’ve got.”

More affirmative nods and murmurs rose and fell.