Henneman and Chase came clomping down the catwalk. Chase looked like he'd slept under a bridge somewhere, but Henneman, always a stickler for appearance, had somehow managed to get through the night with barely a hair out of place.

"Orders, General?" the colonel asked.

It was not the time to drop their defenses, but the men needed rest. Apgar put them on a four-hour rotation: one-third on the wall, one-third patrolling the perimeter, one-third in their racks.

"So what now?" Chase asked, as Henneman moved away.

But Peter had ceased listening; an idea was forming at the back of his mind. Something old; something from the past.

"Mr. President?"

Peter turned to face the two men. "Gunnar, what are our weak points? Besides the gate."

Apgar thought for a moment. "The walls are sound. The dam's basically impregnable."

"So it's the gate that's the problem."

"I'd say so."

Would it work? It just might.

"My office," said Peter. "Two hours."

"Open the door."

The officer keyed the lock; Peter stepped inside. Alicia was sitting on the floor of the cell. Her arms and legs were shackled in front; a third chain connected her hands to a heavy iron ring in the wall. Heavy fabric had been used to cover the window, muting the light.

"About time," she said drolly. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me."

"I'll knock when I'm done," Peter told the guard.

He left them alone. Peter sat on the cot facing Alicia. A silent moment, the two regarding each other across a distance that felt far vaster than it was.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Oh, you know." A shrug, dismissive. "Beats a bullet to the brain. You had me going for a second there."

"I was angry. I still am."

"Yeah, I sensed that." Her eyes took slow measure of his face. "Now that I have a chance to really look at you, I've got to say, you're holding up nicely. That snow on the roof suits you."

He smiled, just a little. "And you look the same."

She glanced around the tiny box of a room. "And you're really running the show here? President and all that."

"That seems to be the case."

"Like it?"

"The last couple of days haven't been so hot."

These wry exchanges, like a dance to a song that only the two of them could hear: he couldn't help himself; he'd missed them.

"You've put me in a bind, Lish. That was a pretty big splash you made last night."

"My timing wasn't the best."

"As far as this government is concerned, you're a traitor."

She looked up. "And what does Peter Jaxon think?"

"You've been gone a long time. Amy seems to believe you're on our side, but she's not the one calling the shots."

"I am on your side, Peter. But that doesn't change the situation. In the end, you're going to have to give her up. You can't beat him."

"See, this is where I have a problem. I've never heard you talk that way, not about anything."

"This is different. Fanning is different. He's been controlling everything from the start. The only reason we were able to kill the Twelve was because he let us. We're all pieces on a board to him."

"So why would you trust him now?"

"Maybe I'm not being clear. I don't."

" 'He comforted you.' 'He took care of you.' Am I remembering this correctly?"

"He did, Peter. But that's not the same thing."

"You're going to have to do better than that."

"Why? So you'll believe me? The way I see it, you don't have a choice."

"Who am I talking to here? You or Fanning?"

Her eyes sharpened with anger; his words had hit the mark. "I took an oath, Peter. Same as you, same as Apgar, same as every man on that wall last night. I stayed with Fanning because I believed he'd leave Kerrville alone. Yes, he was good to me. I never said he wasn't. Believe it or not, I actually feel sorry for the guy, until I remember what he is."

"And what's that?"

"The enemy."

Was she lying? For the moment, it didn't matter; that she wanted him to believe her was leverage he could use.

"Tell me what we're up against, how many dracs are out there."

"I think what you saw last night."

"The rest of Fanning's forces are in New York, in other words. He's holding them in reserve."

Alicia nodded. "I wasn't followed, if that's what you mean. The rest are in the tunnels under the city."

"And you don't know what he wants with Amy?"

"If I knew, I'd tell you. Tying to understand Fanning is a fool's errand. He's a complicated man, Peter. I was with him for twenty years, and I never figured him out completely. Mostly, he just seems sad. He doesn't like what he is, but he sees a kind of justice in it. Or, at least, he wants to."

Peter frowned. "I'm not following."

Alicia took a moment to form her thoughts. "In the station, there's a clock. Long ago, Fanning was supposed to meet a woman there." She looked up. "It's a long story. I can give you all of it, but it'd take hours."

"Give me the short version."

"The woman's name was Liz. She was Jonas Lear's wife."

Peter was caught short.

"Yeah, it surprised me, too. They all knew each other. Fanning loved her since they were young. When she married Lear, he pretty much gave up on the whole thing, but not really. Then she got sick. She was dying, some kind of cancer. Turns out she loved him, too; she had all along. She and Fanning were going to run away, spend her last days together. You should hear him tell the story, Peter. It'd just about rip your heart out. The clock was where they were going to meet, but Liz never showed. She'd died on the way, but Fanning didn't know that; he thought she'd changed her mind. That night he got drunk in a bar and went home with a woman. She was a stranger, nobody he knew. He killed her."

"So he's a murderer, in other words."

Alicia made an expression of demurral. "Well, it was sort of an accident, the way he tells it. He was half out of his mind; he thought his life was basically over. She pulled a knife on him, they struggled, she fell on it."

"Putting him on death row, like the Twelve."

"No, he got away with it. He actually felt awful about the whole thing. He was plenty mixed up, but he was no hardened killer, at least not yet. It was later that he went to South America with Lear, which is where the virus comes from. Lear had been looking for it for years; he thought he could use it to save his wife, though that was a moot point by then. Fanning describes the guy as totally obsessed."

"Was that how Fanning caught the virus?"

Alicia nodded. "As far as I can tell from Fanning's story, it happened by chance, though in his head Lear was responsible. After Fanning got infected, Lear brought him back to Colorado. He was still hoping to use the virus as a kind of cure-all, but the military got involved. They wanted to use it as a weapon, make some kind of super-soldier out of it. That was when they brought in the twelve inmates."

Peter thought for a moment. Then, his thoughts crystallizing: "What about Amy? Why did the Army make her?"

"They didn't; that was Lear. He used a different virus, not descended from the one Fanning carried. That's why she's not the same as the others. That, plus she was so young. I think he maybe knew that the whole thing had gone bad and was trying to make it right."

"It's a strange way of doing it."

"Like I said, Fanning is pretty much of the opinion that the man was off his rocker. Either way, in Fanning's mind, Amy is the fish that got away. Killing the Twelve was a test-not of us, since we never stood a chance against them. Fanning was testing her. I don't know why I didn't think of it at the time, his positioning them all in one place like that. He was never particularly fond of them, to put it mildly. A bunch of psychotics, is how he puts it."

"And he's not?"

Alicia shrugged. "Depends on your definition. If you mean he doesn't know right from wrong, I'd have to say no. He's pretty well versed on the subject, actually. Which is the strangest thing about him, the part I could never really get. Your ordinary drac doesn't care one way or another-it's just an eating machine. Fanning thinks about everything. Maybe Michael could keep up with him, but I never could. Talking to him was like being dragged by a horse."

"So why test her? What was he trying to find out?"

Alicia glanced away, then said, "I think he wanted to know if she really was different from the rest of them. I don't think he wants to kill her. That'd be too obvious. If I had to guess, I'd say it all comes down to his feelings about Lear. Fanning hated the guy. Really hated. And not just because of what Lear did to him. It goes deeper than that. Lear made Amy as a way to set things straight. Maybe Fanning just can't sit with that. Like I said, he mostly seems miserable. He sits in that station staring at the clock as if time stopped for him when Liz didn't show."

Peter waited for more, but Alicia seemed to end there. "Last night you called him a man."

She nodded. "At least that's how he looks, though there are a few differences. He's sensitive to light, much more than I am. He never sleeps, or almost never. Likes his dinner warm. And"-she used her thumb and forefinger to indicate her incisors-"he's got these."

Peter frowned. "Fangs?"

She nodded. "Just these two."

"Was he always that way?"

"Actually, no. At the start, he was exactly like the rest of them. But something happened, an accident. He fell into a flooded quarry. This was early on, just a few days after he broke out of the NOAH lab. None of us can swim; Fanning went straight to the bottom. When he woke up, he was lying on the shore, looking like he does now." She paused, eyes narrowing on his face, as if struck by a sudden thought. "Is that what happened to Amy?"

"Something like that."

"But you're not going to tell me."

Peter left it there. "Could water change back his Many?"

"Fanning says no, just him."

Peter rose from the cot. A wave of lightheadedness passed through him: he really needed to lie down, even for just a few minutes. But it seemed important not to show her how exhausted he was-an old habit, from the days when the two of them had stood the Watch together, each always trying to best the other. I can do this, can you?

"Sorry about those chains."

Alicia lifted her wrists, examining them with a neutral expression-as if they were not her hands but someone else's. She shrugged and let them fall to her lap again. "Forget it. It's not like I'm making this easy for you."

"Do you need anything? Food, water?"

"My diet is a little peculiar these days."

Peter understood. "I'll see what I can do."

A silent moment, each of them acknowledging the awkwardness of the situation.

"I know you don't want to believe me," Alicia said. "Hell, I wouldn't. But I'm telling you the truth."

Peter said nothing.

"We were friends, Peter. All those years, you were the one person I could always rely on. We stood for each other."

"Yes, we did."

"Just tell me that still counts for something."

As he looked at her, his mind went back to the night when they had said goodbye to each other at the Colorado garrison, so many years ago-the night before he had ridden up the mountain with Amy. How young they'd been. Standing outside the soldiers' barracks, the cold wind lancing through them, he had loved Alicia fiercely, as he had never loved anyone in his life-not his parents or Auntie or even his brother Theo: no one. It was not the love of a man for a woman, or a brother for a sister, but something leaner, pared to its essence: a binding, subatomic energy that had no words to name it. Peter could no longer recall what they'd said to one another; only the impression remained, like footprints in snow. It was one of those moments when it had still seemed possible to understand life and what was meant by living one-he had been young enough to still believe that such a thing was possible-and the recollection carried a striking vividness of emotion, as if three decades had not passed since that cold and distant hour in which he had stood in the sheltering light of Alicia's courage. But then he blinked the memory away, his mind returned to the present, and what remained was only a great weight of sadness at the center of his chest. Two hundred thousand souls gone, and Alicia at the center of it all.

"Yes," he said. "It counts. But I'm afraid it doesn't change a thing."

He gave three hard bags on the door. Tumblers turned and the guard appeared.

"Don't be dumb, Peter. Fanning's everything I say he is. I don't know what you're planning, but don't."

"Thank you," he said to the guard. "I'm finished here."

The chain attaching Alicia to the wall rattled as she yanked on it. "Listen to me, goddamnit! It's no good, fighting him!"