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Patel looked at Valentine and glanced heavenward.
Valentine changed the subject. "I'd asked for an index of your current residents who came out of Kentucky and Tennessee. Even the Virginias."
"And we haven't got to it yet," the man on the phone said, covering the mouthpiece.
"We've got only one computer allocated to admin and only one man who knows how to work the database. Our old printer runs on curses and tears."
"Ho dog," Valentine said, letting out a deep breath. "Hammer's going to go red as a baboon's butt."
Patel's eyes widened, then he nodded. "Tell me about it."
"Who's Hammer?" the man with the key packet asked.
"My CO," Valentine said. "Ex-Bear." He tapped the scar running the side of his face for emphasis. "He'll probably be here by tomorrow to get things moving."
"You think the file cabinets will fit through that window?" Patel asked Valentine.
"Eventually," Valentine said.
"You'll have your list delivered to the trailer this evening," the man with the phone said, clicking off his call and dialing a new set of numbers.
* * * *
They met Supervisor Felshtinsky out front. He had a tall, muscular assistant and rode in an electric golf cart.
Valentine had never seen a golf cart fitted out with a gun rack. A beautiful over/under shotgun rested in its locks, and Felshtinsky had flying ducks painted on the back of the low-riding vehicle. Its rear was filled with plastic file folders.
"You'll excuse me not standing," Felshtinsky said as he turned in his seat to shake their hands. He looked relaxed and tan in a polo shirt. "I've been on wheels since 'fifty-eight."
He had a strong grip and heavy shoulder muscles. Valentine guessed he lifted weights; you didn't get muscles like that just dragging your body around. Valentine felt humbled and apologetic, as he always did when meeting someone who'd lost a piece of themselves.
"Hop in back there. I'll give you a tour."
As they drove around to the cart's smooth, almost silent engine whine, Felshtinsky told them about his post. He was proud of his operation. He had close to four thousand people under his charge, temporary residents acclimating to the Free Territory, or permanents who'd settled around Liberty.
"We've got as many teachers here as Little Rock or Dallas," Felshtinsky said.
"How long do they stay?" Valentine asked.
"Depends. Sometimes a young couple meets up here, decides to get married and start fresh, and leaves right away. We get some not much smarter than a well-trained horse. They count on their fingers and can recite a few Church verses about flushing only once a day. Try learning to write at forty-three."
Felshtinsky explained how all the residents earned "Liberty bucks" doing training. Liberty bucks could buy them furniture and appliances for their homes or beers at the camp's bowling alley, and most of the merchants in town let them use the scrip to buy from a limited selection of toiletries and merchandise provided by Southern Command's warehouses at a discount.
They passed the first wire Valentine had seen. It was ordinary fencing, and a military policeman with a pistol stood in a guardhouse at a gate.
The tightly packed trailers inside the fence looked too numerous for a prison compound, unless the residents of Liberty were unusually lawless.
"What's that?"
"That's for Quislings. They stay there until they're cleared by Southern Command. They're worried about another big sabotage outburst, like just before Solon showed up, so they make sure."
Valentine saw one of the residents pushing a wheelbarrow with a yellow plastic water keg in it. He wore that alternate-color scheme Valentine had seen here and there.
They drove around the hospital and the ethanol plant, the rice mill and the cane fields.
Arrowheads of ducks and geese flew overhead.
"Lots of waterfowl in this part of Arkansas," Felshtinsky said. "If you want to get up early and go for a duck, I've got the best blind in the county. Privileges of rank."
