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tiny hole, motioning Lucas to come over and see what the pack held.
    A small monitor revealed a fish-eye view of the home’s interior, obviously from a kitchen wall since Lucas could see the sink curving into the bottom of the frame.
    Inside the house, a man and a woman were eating something—nachos, maybe—at a built-in counter on the far side of the kitchen. The man’s lips were moving, but Lucas heard nothing.
    Donavan’s hand reached out toward him, and Lucas stepped back in surprise until he saw what was in it: one of the earbuds Donavan was so fond of wearing. Lucas took the earbud and put it in his own ear, immediately surprised at the clarity of the sound.
    The man was in midsentence.
    â€œâ€”know we have to do it. And we have to do it at Split Jacks.”
    The woman stayed silent, looked down at the plate in front of her.
    â€œCome on,” the man continued. “We’ve talked about this . . . I don’t know how many times.”
    Lucas noticed Donavan nodding his head in agreement, a smile on his face and a manic energy twinkling in his eyes. As if he were on a drug high.
    â€œAre you listening?” the man asked.
    The woman finally spoke. “It’s no good. I mean, he has people everywhere. You know that. And if we screw up something like this . . .”
    â€œHis car.”
    â€œHis car?”
    â€œYeah. He has a few drinks at Split Jacks, gets in his car . . . you fill in the blanks.”
    The woman stood up and carried her plate toward the camera. Lucas and Donavan stood absolutely still, watching as she came to the sink. Her face was now filling the fish-eye lens as she rinsed her plate. Lucas saw she was under duress, debating, making a decision she wanted and didn’t want at the same time. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, kept her eyes closed.
    â€œYou sure about this?” she asked weakly.
    His voice came from behind her. “I already told you: it’s perfect.”
    She opened her eyes, and Lucas saw a change come over her face.
    She was going to say yes, he could tell, even before she spoke.
    â€œOkay. I’m in.”
    She turned around, the back of her head now filling the frame of the camera.
    â€œYeah, you’re all in, baby.”
    The woman receded from the camera, walking across the room and disappearing around a corner. She said something from down the hall, something Lucas couldn’t hear because she was too far away, prompting a laugh from the man, still sitting at the counter.
    â€œOh, you can count on it,” he said, then stood and left the frame.
    Quickly Donavan pulled the tube out of the small hole and replaced the nail. He stuffed the tube camera back into his bag, paused, and looked Lucas in the eyes. Lucas could see that manic energy still there, dancing.
    The only problem was, he could also feel that same manic energy burning behind his own eyes.

SEVEN
    BACK IN HIS ABODE, LUCAS UNSCREWED THE BOTTOM OF HIS ELECTRIC candle, slid out the batteries and replaced them with fresh ones, then turned it off and put it in his backpack. Outside the window on the back wall, streaks of pink and purple were painting the eastern sky.
    A new day in the District.
    One advantage to the steam tunnels and underground spaces: it stayed dark there all the time, which he found comforting. Rats weren’t the cleanest of neighbors, but in many ways they were better than humans.
    Lucas hadn’t slept since returning from the sojourn with Donavan six hours earlier. Instead, he had knelt before his makeshift shrine, picking up each of the assorted totems, holding them in his hands and caressing them before returning them to their proper places.
    It still pained him to think someone else had touched these things, found his inner sanctum and violated something so pure. An action that told him, I know where you are. I can invade your space.
    It was a notice, he was sure of it.
    The question was, a notice of what?
    Even so,