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“I’ll consider it. ”
“Anyway, we’ll have plenty of action soon enough. ”
“Don’t remind me. ”
“If you weren’t up for a fight, you shouldn’t have signed on. ”
“I’m up for it,” he insisted, though he did not come across as fully convinced.
“You heard stories, huh? About the Chinaman from Hell?”
“I heard plenty about him, and I don’t think this’ll be as easy as the chief expects. ”
“Maybe you’re right. ”
“I hope I’m not. ”
All the way, Angeline and her companions followed half a block behind, staying close enough to keep their quarry but far enough away that they shouldn’t be noticed or caught. Rector was dying to ask where they were going, and what was going on, and did anybody know those two fellows, and where had the men been cooped up? But there was no talking, only sneaking.
Zeke stumbled and caught himself before he made too much noise. Rector hoisted him by the underarms to keep him upright.
The wall was dark and flat behind them, framing the whole world with its bulk.
Or that’s what Rector assumed, until Angeline smacked each boy’s arm quietly—directing their attention up, and away, and back. She jabbed her finger hard into the air, pointing at something difficult to see and uncertain in shape.
Rector wiped his arm across his visor, still nurturing the ridiculous notion that maybe it’d clear his vision just a little bit. But it didn’t, so he had to squint through the fog.
It took him a few seconds to understand why the princess was all riled up. The air fought him, and the fussy gray atmosphere didn’t give him much to work with. But as he stared, he realized that something about the wall itself wasn’t quite right. Its angles didn’t meet up like they ought to; its authoritative shadow didn’t spread seamlessly along Seattle’s northeastern border.
It hit him like a train: The wall was gone.
Eighteen
The wall was not a small bit broken, but badly so—missing enough of its volume that the vague afternoon sun spilled inside the U-shaped gouge, as if a great jet of water had been turned against the wall, washing away its stones like a gully cut down the side of a mountain.
Zeke put his hand over his mouth, and Rector was willing to bet that inside Houjin’s mask, his trap was hanging open, too.
The chatting men wandered off. Rector thought the plan was to follow them, but Angeline held him back. When there was enough distance between the two parties, she drew their heads close together and spoke so softly she could scarcely be heard.
“Let ’em go. We found our hole in the wall. ”
Zeke objected. “But they’re getting away!”
“It doesn’t matter. We know how they got in, and we can guess what they’re up to. ”
Zeke frowned. “We can?”
Rector elbowed him in the ribs. “Yeah, we can. The Chinaman from Hell—you know that’s Yaozu. They’re here to hassle him, just like he said they would … just like he, and Harry, and Bishop all said. They’re here to take the Station away from him. ”
“But now what?” the Houjin pushed. “If you’re right, what do we do? Do we tell Yaozu? Tell the Doornails?”
Angeline said to Rector, “I expect you’ll go running to your boss with the news, whatever we say. Perhaps he should know, but let’s get our facts straight first. Let’s go see what they’re doing before we run off telling tales. ”
Reluctantly, Houjin agreed. “Right now, all we know is that new people are inside. ”
The princess corrected him. “Oh, we know more than that. We know they’re up to no good, or else they’d have come inside the same way as everybody else. They picked an out-of-the-way spot where no one’s likely to run across ’em, so they don’t want anyone knowing they’re here. And furthermore, they’re bastards. ”
Huey cocked his head. “Bastards?”
