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and looked to Andrei, as if to be sure he should go on. When Andrei nodded impatiently, he continued, “It seems that her former husband, Devin Milford, a political dissident, has been released from custody. Although he is being confined to his home county in Nebraska, she fears he may harm her. She seeks the colonel’s reassurance, or perhaps protection.”
    Andrei nodded, resigned. Protection. That’s what everyone seemed to want from Mm. But protection from what? From a man as principled and direct as Devin Milford? Andrei was well acquainted with Milford’s character and ruined career. Years ago, in fact, he’d read transcripts of his speeches, circulated underground in crude and illegal mimeographs. He had been struck by the power of Milford’s words, and the name had remained in his memory ever since. “Today, while I am gone, assemble an extensive file on Devin Milford.”
    They took the elevator down and walked through the lobby to the waiting limousine. The lobby entrance was discreetly covered by security guards. Two of them escorted Andrei to Ms limousine. The others climbed into an unmarked vehicle parked behind and followed Andrei’s car as it sped away.
    Behind the protective glass in his limousine, indifferent to the security guards, Andrei began studying a pile of photographs. “Is everything in order for the Omaha event?”
    “Four of the candidates for area governor-general have been notified,” replied Mikel,
    Andrei signed. “Governor-general. A rather stuffy title, don’t you think? Like a Gilbert and Sullivan character.”
    “It is a position of authority,” Mikel said.
    Andrei thumbed through the pictures again. “You said four have been notified. Why hasn’t the fifth? And which one is it?”
    Mike! looked a little uncomfortable. “I have not spoken with the man from Nebraska, Peter Bradford.” Andrei picked out Peter’s photo from the others in the file. He thought about the sarcastic gibes aimed at earlier American presidents: “Would you buy a used car from this man?” And he thought, Yes, he would buy a used car from Bradford. And the rest of America would too.
    Andrei turned to face Ms assistant’s earnest profile. “Your reason, Mikel?”
    “The committee noted Mr. Bradford’s lack of experience. There is a feeling that Governor Smith of Missouri would be the nominee of choice.”
    “But we must wonder why, Mikel?” Andrei said. “Do you know how Mr. Bradford came to my attention? His county is the most trouble free in the Central
    Administrative Area. The Heartland, as it is known. His production is far above quota. There is no significant resistance, although they are only sixty miles from the Omaha Urban Zone. He is a family man, much respected.”
    “He is not a party member. The party leader from Milford, a Mr. Herbert Lister, said he was resistant to the revised school curriculum.”
    “Are you accusing him of having a backbone, Mikel?”
    “I accuse him of nothing.”
    Chapter 3
    The truck lurched past the iron gates and picked up speed. The rutted road ahead pointed straight across the desert to the east. There were six of them in the back of the truck, blankly looking back as Fort Davis, their only reality for years, receded into the desert. Devin wondered why each of them felt compelled to look back—he knew that he desperately wanted to look forward, to see something bright, something substantial, in the future. But ahead of them was just desert and miles to travel; the only buildings anywhere in this area were the jumble of jerry-rigged structures they’d come from.
    Devin tried to keep his emotions in check. Part of him still feared that his release was a trick. There had been so many at Fort Davis. For him, ambiguity was the secret of survival: to hate and not to hate, to fear and not to fear, to resist and not to resist, to dream and not to dream. And yet with every passing moment, he felt assured that he had truly survived.
    It would take time to