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They kept thrusting his script at him。 All Nathan Lee had to do was play his part。 〃It took me longer than expected；〃 he said without apology。 〃Like you say； the road。〃 He spokethe road darkly。
〃Good lad；〃 said Baird。 〃Hell in the wastelands； do you see；〃 he told the others。 They murmured。 They saw。
〃I am troubled；〃 continued Ellison。
〃By god；〃 agreed Baird。
Ellison let his knuckles drop on the tidy desk top。 〃Why on earth would they send a thief？〃
Who was thisthey？ Where had Ochs e from？ Where had he gone？
〃You want the job done or not； Ellison？〃 snapped Baird。 〃These are uncivilized times。 It takes a certain kind of man。 Not a journey for the weak。〃
Ellison was annoyed。 〃My point is that I know what you are； Mr。 Swift。 Whatever it is you've spent this week stealing from us； stays here。 You were sent for a reason。 A great deal is expected of you。〃
In fact； Nathan Lee had been stealing things。 Small things。 Precious things。 His gold had run low； and he still had a country to explore。 But he wasn't about to confess to a bureaucrat who was only guessing。 〃Do you have my shipment？〃 he said。
〃We did our best；〃 Ellison sniffed。 〃All we could locate were thirteen more items。〃
〃Thirteen。〃 Nathan Lee scowled。 〃They told me eighty…seven。 I came all this way for nothing？〃 He reached across and pulled the list from Ellison's hands。
It was an inventory printed on Los Alamos National Laboratory letterhead。 Nathan Lee recognized some of the artifacts from his days on the Year Zero digs。 The rest were religious trinkets from the Mideast and Europe； talismans and holy relics。 That made no sense to him。 But there at the bottom was a hastily written note taking possession of the twenty…three objects。 Underneath； larger than necessary； was Ochs's signature。Los Alamos？ thought Nathan Lee。
〃Thirteen is hardly nothing；〃 Ellison protested。
〃It's hardly eighty…seven；〃 said Nathan Lee。 His mind was racing。 〃I'll need transport；〃 he said。 〃And food。 And letters of passage。〃
Ellison's eyes narrowed。 〃That's a lot of needs；〃 he said。 〃You almost sound like a man trying to make something out of nothing。〃
〃He's the courier；〃 said Baird。 〃They sent him。〃
〃I don't think so；〃 said Ellison。
〃This is government business；〃 protested the cellist。 〃Mr。 Swift is a patriot。 He's e to save us。〃
〃You're jeopardizing the cure；〃 an old man said。 〃I have children out there。〃
〃Grandchildren；〃 another said。
〃Great…grandchildren。〃
〃Who do you think you are； Ellison？ What right。。。。〃
Ellison tried to stand his ground。 But there were too many of them。 〃Put him on the road； then；〃 he barked。 〃Give him what he needs。 Get him out of here。〃
The group started to leave。 But Nathan Lee paused。 He turned。 Ellison shifted unfortably。 〃Now what？〃 he said。
Nathan Lee picked up the Matisse statue and hefted it。 In front of them all； he slid it into his jacket pocket。 〃For good luck；〃 he announced。
His brazenness gave them heart。 They followed him like a great hero。
NEXT MORNING； on the front lawn of the museum； Nathan Lee kick…started an antique Indian 101 Scout motorcycle to life。 According to the museum label； it had been built in 1928。 Massive and low slung； carrying a spring…mounted seat like something from a farm tractor； the bike was no Easyrider。 The Scout was Baird's idea； a bit of his own wild youth projected onto Nathan Lee's highway。 It would not have been Nathan Lee's choice from all the other motorcycles in the collection； but he owed the old man a dream。 Fortunately； the machine was in mint condition。 The donor had lovingly changed the oil and put in new ring valves just two years ago。
White smoke poured from the exhaust； then cleared。 He had a sleeping bag from the Natural History Museum's Mt。 Everest exhibit strapped to the handlebars； and a wooden…handled machete reputed to be the same one used by Stanley on his search for Livingstone。 His saddlebags…taken from another museum piece and customized to the Scout…carried two packages of artifacts； authorization letters typed on Smithsonian stationery； maps； food from the Castle kitchen； four wine bottles filled with fuel； his book for Grace。 The rare coins； jewels； crystals； and gold that he'd stolen from the museum were hidden in pockets or taped to his shins。
A team of sullen Army Corps of Engineers workers stood around with tool belts and hard hats； waiting to shore up the doorway again。 Baird and a few of the curators were standing in the green grass； blinking at the early sunshine。
〃It's almost June；〃 Baird said to him。 〃America in summer。 What a glory； Swift。〃 He was crying。
〃I'll tell you all about it；〃 said Nathan Lee。 They both knew that was a lie。 The curators were dead here。 Baird thumped Nathan Lee's back。
Nathan Lee let the clutch out and slowly rolled across the overgrown lawn。 They called Godspeed to him。 Caught up in their fiction； he gunned the engine and roared off into the distance。
17
Behind the Fence
JULY； TWOMONTHSLATER
At first light； Nathan Lee rode into the pueblo of San Ildefonso on horseback。 It had a quaint wooden cross atop an adobe arch。 Elements of the Third Armored Cavalry now occupied the place； though with a custodian's carefulness。 They had gone out of their way not to disturb the cross when backing their tank in。
High in the turret； a soldier with binoculars was intently studying the distance。 For the last hundred yards； Nathan Lee had thought the man was glassing him。 But as he approached and the soldier said nothing； Nathan Lee looked over his shoulder and saw a hawk drafting on the early breeze。 The soldier was bird…watching。
Nathan Lee dismounted from his horse and tethered her next to some grass。 She was an appaloosa mare。 He didn't know much about horses。 They were getting used to each other。 She liked oats； that much was clear； but the sack was running low。 To his relief； the grass seemed to please her。
One of the guards； a skinny kid with a mousy blond mustache； escorted him past the tank。 They walked across the square to a one…story house where the officers lived； and Nathan Lee handed over his blood log and papers。 The guard stood with him outside while they waited for the medic to get out of bed。
Nathan Lee began rolling up his sleeve for the needle。 By this point； the track marks on his forearm looked like something out of a heroin den。 〃You want a seat？〃 the soldier said。 He indicated a lawn chair。
Nathan Lee thanked him； anyway。 〃That saddle's killing me。〃
〃Cool horse；〃 the kid said。
There was a little cemetery in front of the old church。 The ceremonialkiva was posted Off Limits。 Last fall's red chili strings hung by doorways。 All the Pueblos had left。 They'd even taken their dogs。
〃Where'd you put the people？〃 Nathan Lee asked。
〃They were gone when we showed。〃 The kid pointed west。 〃Chaco Canyon。 It's some kind of sacred place。 Most of the Indians went there to wait things out。 I guess a few of them work up at the Lab。〃
Nathan Lee had seen the city from his camp last night。 From miles away you could see it gleaming high above the valley。 It was the last place in America to have dependable electricity。 Even the soldiers had none。 He