“A valid concern, yes,” Yaozu conceded. “However, the strategic use of dynamite is more complicated than throwing the sticks down a hole and lighting a match. I know of this man, Otis Caplan. He isn’t an idiot, and he’ll want to use his explosives wisely. He’ll survey his intended targets and take his time selecting them.”

Andan Cly asked, “How much time, do you think?”

“Houjin said they had no plans before tomorrow night, when their reinforcements arrive, so we can assume we have another day or two. Perhaps forty-eight hours. And when they do make their move, they’ll attack the Station, not the Vaults. It’s their primary goal, and the only firmly occupied place they’re aware of.”

A reluctant but positive hum considered this, and accepted it.

“This is not to say that we should dawdle. We need men—or women”—he quickly amended—“who are familiar with danger and prepared to come very close to it. We need people who can move quietly, and who know the area with great precision.”

Doctor Wong frowned. “But the north side,” he said in heavily accented English. He switched to Chinese to ask the rest of his question, and Yaozu replied in kind. Then, to everyone else, Yaozu said, “It’s true that the area is a wasteland—that’s why our enemies chose it. If they’d been smart enough to fix the hole in the wall, even with a flawed, temporary barrier, we might not have noticed their presence so soon. But their carelessness is our good fortune.

“So that leaves the question: How many of you know the north wall area well enough to monitor it, and the men who’ve settled in there?”

Angeline let out a little cough.

“Obviously Princess Angeline is familiar with the terrain. Anyone else?”

Houjin’s translation provided a soft echo.

A burly man with a fluffy beard put up his hand. “I knew the spot, years ago. I knew it well. I worked at the sawmill, before it burned. My boss had a home up there.”

Intrigued, Yaozu asked, “And you regularly visited your employer’s home?”

He shrugged. “I was a foreman. I delivered messages and supplies to Mr. Yesler. I saw the tower while they were building it. The park layout’s pretty straightforward,” he assured the room at large. “Several streets, all running alongside one another. They dead-end … well, at the wall, I suppose. But they used to dead-end at the park, right around the tower.”

Angeline added, “And the wall runs right behind that tower, over the cemetery. Cuts it in two.”

The lumber man said, “All right, I can imagine that.”

“What’s your name?” Yaozu asked.

“Terrence Miller. By coincidence.”

“Excellent. Anyone else? We have Princess Angeline, and Mr. Miller.”

Captain Cly was elbowing Houjin, who finally gave in and said, “I remember everywhere we went, and could find my way around. I’m good with directions.”