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“Do you think it’s wise to be so visible?” Chal asks him. “The council is happy to look the other way as long as you keep a low profile, but the more visible you are, the more likely they are to take issue with your presence.”
“I can’t hide forever,” he tells him. He keeps to himself what he’s really planning.
Although Kele begs to come, he’s been grounded for cursing in Arápache—something he thought he could get away with, but didn’t. A good thing too. The last thing Lev wants is to put Kele in the middle of this. He needs to go alone.
• • •
The concert has already started when Lev arrives. There are maybe two hundred people spread out on blankets and lawn chairs picnicking and enjoying the warm August day. The band is good. They play a curious mix of traditional native music, pop, and oldies. Something for everyone.
Lev lingers, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, but he sees the occasional person spot him and whisper to the person beside them. Well, they’ll have plenty more to gossip about in a few minutes.
Lev makes his way toward the front, and as soon as the band finishes their first set, he pulls two pieces of paper from his pocket and climbs to the stage. He pulls the lead singer’s microphone down a few inches so he can speak without it blocking his face.
“Excuse me,” he says. “Excuse me, can I have your attention!” He’s startled by how loud and resonant his voice sounds. “My name is Levi Jedediah Garrity—but you probably know me as Lev Calder. I was a Mahpee taken in by the Tashi’ne family.”
“We know who you are,” someone shouts dismissively from the audience. “Now get off the stage.”
A smattering of agreement—some derisive laughter. He ignores it all. “I was there when Wil Tashi’ne offered himself to parts pirates in exchange for more than a dozen lives—including mine. Although one of the parts pirates died there, the two who lived took Wil, sold him to be unwound, and got away.”
“Yeah, tells us something we don’t know,” yells another heckler.
“I plan to,” Lev says. “Because I’ve found out their names, and I know where to find them.”
Then he holds out the two pieces of paper—each one featuring an enlarged image of a parts pirate. One with a missing ear, the other with a face like a goat.
Suddenly the entire crowd is silent.
“Chandler Hennessey and Morton Fretwell. They hunted AWOLs for a while in Denver, but now they’re trolling Minneapolis.” Then he puts the pictures down and gets as close to the microphone as he can. “I’m going to track them down and bring them back here to face justice.” And then, in perfect Arápache:
“Who will help me?”
The silence continues.
“I said, who will help me?”
For a long moment, Lev thinks no one will come forward, but then he hears a single voice—a woman’s voice—from the back of the crowd.
“I will,” she says in Arápache.
It’s Una. Lev hadn’t even seen her here. He’s both grateful and troubled. He was hoping to put together a good old-fashioned posse. If it’s just the two of them, what chance do they have of bringing in these pirates? What chance do they have of even surviving the attempt?
As Una moves through the crowd toward the stage, someone shouts, “C’mon! Clap for the clapper!”
People begin applauding. It starts slow, but it builds until the crowd is cheering by the time Una reaches the stage. Now any doubts he had are gone. His bid to win over the Arápache people has begun—and if he succeeds, he knows he’ll be able to pull them into the battle against unwinding. He’ll finally have his dam!
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing, little brother?” Una asks him over the cheering crowd.
Lev smiles at her. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Part Six
* * *
Akron
TERRORISTS PLAN ATTACK ON BRITAIN WITH BOMBS INSIDE THEIR BODIES TO FOIL NEW AIRPORT SCANNERS
By Christopher Leake, Mail On Sunday Home Affairs Editor
