“Do you know what this is about?” Rakkim followed Elroy through the alley. “I heard Spider lives under the bus tunnel. Is that where we’re going?”

Elroy took an abrupt right turn, squeezed through a narrow space in the wire fencing, and kept going, not looking back.

Rakkim tore his jacket getting through the opening, hurrying to keep up as they rushed through the twilight. It was past sunset now and this part of downtown was poorly lit, lined with flophouses and abandoned buildings. Rakkim had lived in this general area after his father had died, lived here until Redbeard had brought him home. The maze of alleys gave way to gravel footpaths, then a succession of worn stone steps. At one point they scuttled through a long, corrugated-metal pipe strewn with garbage, broken eggs crunching underfoot, and he knew by the growing stink of rotting vegetables that they were getting closer to the waterfront under the Public Market. At the last minute, they veered away from the market and toward Pioneer Square, the oldest part of the city.

Elroy quickly ran a microwave scanner across Rakkim. “You’re clean,” he said, putting it back into his sweatshirt. He pressed a hand against a seemingly solid brick wall and a section swung aside. He waited until Rakkim squeezed through, then closed it behind them. A latch snapped into place. They were in total darkness, the air cold and damp.

Rakkim waited a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, but it was still pitch-black.

“This way,” said Elroy.

Rakkim walked toward the sound of his voice, hands out.

“Keep coming,” said Elroy, ahead of him. “There’s a turn coming up.”

Rakkim stumbled, heard Elroy snicker. “Elroy?” His voice echoed. “Put a light on.”

“I don’t need a light,” sniffed Elroy, his voice farther away. “I know where I am.”

Rakkim moved quickly, hands waving. He snagged Elroy’s shirt, but the kid pulled away.

“Touch me again and I’ll leave you here. A few days of banging into things and the cats and rats will be fighting over you.”

“Take me to Spider. That’s what you were told to do.” No answer. Rakkim stepped toward where his voice had been, hit his head on something, cursing now.

“You’re not getting scared are you?” said Elroy.

Rakkim didn’t move. He had excellent night vision, but there was no light anywhere, and he couldn’t be sure the direction he had come from. The darkness smelled mossy.

Elroy’s laughter echoed.

Rakkim stayed where he was. He heard Elroy moving closer, the kid barely making a sound. He waited, trying not to breathe, then reached out and grabbed something, a skinny arm. He hung on as the kid slapped at him, tried to twist away, but there was no way Rakkim would let go, and Elroy finally stopped struggling.

“Good for you,” gasped Elroy. “I bet you’re proud of yourself.”

“Take me to Spider,” said Rakkim, still hanging on to him.

“If I wanted to ditch you, I would have already done it. Wouldn’t be the first time.” Elroy wriggled but couldn’t pull free. “Hands off, okay? I don’t like being touched. Please?”

Rakkim let him go, then waited for him to leave him alone in the dark.

“I bet you thought I was going to run off,” said Elroy.

“Not at all.”

“Liar.” Elroy sniffed. “Stick your right hand out until you find the wall. Did you do it? Okay, keep your hand on the wall as we walk. I’ll tell you when to turn.”

They made good progress, maintained a slow but steady pace for the next half hour. Rakkim kept count of his steps and turns, making a mental map. Forty-seven steps, right turn, two hundred and eighteen steps, left…They seemed to be on a slight downward spiral, and he was sure that Elroy was doubling back from time to time, trying to confuse him. Sometimes Rakkim heard the rumble of a subway in the distance, felt the vibration through the stone floor. Twice they splashed through pools of cold water. Rakkim bumped his head three or four times, tripped once. He almost lost his count when he fell, but he repeated the numbers and turns in his head, reestablishing the pattern. He heard things run past on the floor, claws skittering. Never a glimmer of light.

“We’re here,” said Elroy.

Rakkim hadn’t realized how loudly his heart was beating until they stopped. He blinked as Elroy opened a door, the boy standing there in the light. Rakkim followed him inside.

They were in a storage room of some kind, a small space with a sink and towels. Elroy was already washing up, soaping his hands and face, splashing water everywhere. He quickly put on a pair of oversize clean coveralls from a hook on the wall, tossed a pair to Rakkim, and removed his shoes. The water from the tap was icy, but Rakkim was grateful for the chance to wash the grime off. Blood was on the towel when he dried his face, and the mirror showed a gash in his forehead.

“I’m Spider,” said the man waiting for them, a barefoot gnome with a dark, luxuriant beard and a black skullcap. He shifted from one foot to the other. “Pleasure to finally meet you.” Rakkim offered his hand, but Spider turned away and started walking. Elroy hurried beside his father, the two of them talking as Rakkim followed.

The interior room was softly lit, and the size of a small warehouse. Thick carpets covered the floor, museum-quality Persians in reds and blues, and silk ornamentals in subtle shades of pink and yellow, so delicate that he didn’t want to walk on them. The room was warm and clean, the air fresh, smelling faintly of garlic and roasted chicken. Not a hint of the dampness of the stone corridor that had brought them there. The walls were hung with rich tapestries, dozens and dozens of them. He had been in wealthy households with Redbeard, homes of senators and business leaders-just one of these tapestries would have occupied a place of honor. Rakkim was looking around so often that he fell behind and had to hurry to catch up. At last, Spider pushed aside some embroidered curtains and stepped into a small office. He waited for Rakkim to sit on a pile of purple cushions, then sat across from him. Elroy stayed outside.

Spider was an intense ball of tics, his skin white as a pearl. He wore black silk pajamas, his hands and feet knobby. His beard was long, his graying hair plaited into a single braid that fell past his shoulders, and, just as Rakkim had heard, his nose was an imperial beak. It was hard to gauge his age as he had been out of the sun for so long, but he didn’t look older than forty. “My son said you did well on the trip through the tunnels.”

Rakkim glanced around. The office was bare, except for shelves along the back wall containing rows and rows of glass snow globes. Pretransition tourist items. He saw the Golden Gate Bridge, the Hollywood sign, the Space Needle, Santa Claus and his sleigh…even the Twin Towers. From another part of the warehouse, he could hear women’s voices, and the sound of a baby crying. “How far underground are we?”

Spider didn’t respond. Another baby was crying now, a regular howling chorus, but Spider didn’t seem to notice, intent on Rakkim. The pupils of his eyes were hugely dilated. Given the whiteness of his skin, the only spots of color on his face were his black pupils tracking Rakkim. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time. Did you know that the Blue Moon is the only club in the Zone that doesn’t pay protection?”

“That’s fascinating, but why am I here? What did you find on the-”

“You don’t even pay off the police. You give gifts to the officers. Birthday presents for their wives and sweethearts, graduation gifts for their children. Generous gifts, but no bribes.” Spider blinked. “They must appreciate not being treated as thieves in uniform.”

“What did you find on the computer cores?”