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expression.
    “Before we go any
further,” Kendall continued after he finished his coffee and cast a
wary look around the room, “perhaps you could give me a brief idea
of what you’d like to discuss with us. I have a fairly good idea of
where Philip’s interests lie. Perhaps I might be able to guide
you.”
    Now it was Linder’s
turn to cast furtive glances over Kendall’s shoulder and to either
side.
    “All right,” Linder
began. “The reason I’m here is to raise funds for the political
organization that we call the Mormon Return Movement. The MRM is not
an arm of the LDS church, but a secular group created to pave the way
for Latter-day Saints and other people of faith to resettle and
rebuild Utah and the historically Mormon areas of Idaho, Wyoming, and
northern Arizona. We have reconnected with members of the Mormon
Diaspora all across the country and have built a strong underground
network. Very soon our overseas supporters will be able to come and
see for themselves what their donations are achieving.”
    “And just how do you
plan to do that?” Kendall asked, cocking a skeptical eyebrow.
    “We’ve managed to
recruit highly placed sympathizers inside the Unionist apparatus who
stand to profit from redevelopment. They’ve already shown their
good faith by arranging safe passage for our members into the
restricted zones from other parts of the country. By early next year,
we also expect to infiltrate some of our overseas supporters via
certain Gulf Coast ports and bring them up to safe areas near Salt
Lake, Ogden, and Provo. So, if you decide to pay us a visit, be sure
to bring your greenbacks and gold, because there will be
once-in-a-lifetime investment opportunities for those who come
early.”
    Linder dipped another
piece of bread in the eggplant dish, while Roger Kendall sat back and
ran a manicured hand through his slicked-back hair.
    “That’s
impressive,” the lawyer answered, reaching for his demitasse of
sweet Arabic coffee. “To come and go from a restricted zone right
under the regime’s nose is quite a coup. I had assumed that the
borders were still sealed. But why should a non-Mormon from Cleveland
back your group when rebel outfits all across the Midwest need his
help?”
    Linder had expected
this objection and lowered his voice. Kendall would have to lean
forward to hear his response.
    “Because we’re
better organized, more energetic, and younger. And even more, we’ve
chosen nonviolence. Before the Events, Utah had the fastest-growing
economy in the country, the highest birth rate of any state, and the
highest voter turnout against the President-for-Life’s reelection
bid. With the rest of the country in a shambles, and the restricted
zones cut off from view, we can mount a stealth campaign to outbreed,
outgrow, and co-opt the Unionist parasites that the regime has left
in charge over us. I have plenty of data to back that up, along with
a five-year plan…”
    Kendall held up a hand
and nodded impatiently.
    “I see you’ve come
well-prepared, Joe. Perhaps Philip would be interested. Have the two
of you ever met?”
    “I’ve not had that
pleasure,” Linder lied. It had been long ago, and Linder was sure
that Eaton had forgotten his conversation with the teenager he was at
the time. But Linder had not.
    “I’m sure you won’t
be disappointed,” Kendall replied, “though I must disclose my
bias since Philip happens to be my father-in-law.”
    Something about the
man’s self-satisfied grin irritated Linder and made him bristle at
the thought that this was Patricia Eaton’s husband. Had the Events
not intervened, he thought, Patricia surely would never have married
an empty suit like Kendall. Linder finished the baba ghannouj quickly
and washed it down with the last of the mineral water, signaling the
waiter to bring more.
    “You know, Philip is
one of the few visionaries left among leaders of the opposition in
exile,” Kendall mused. “Long before the Events, Philip