His shoulders stiffened.
"Do you know what these are?" Eli asked.
"I know enough not to like finding them here," Ronan answered. "And enough to know that a professional needs to examine the whole thing."
He took out his phone, checked the signal, and tried a call. It failed. He moved closer to the stairs and sent a short message, waiting until a delivery mark appeared before putting the phone away. Eli watched him carefully. The man showed no obvious fear, but his movements had become economical, each one serving a purpose.
"Who did you text?" Eli asked.
"Cutter. My sergeant-at-arms. And a number we use when the county roads are bad and we need help reaching emergency services."
"Are you going to tell everybody?"
"I'm going to make sure we have a plan first." Ronan looked toward the ceiling. "People are brave, Eli. They can also get hurt doing brave things when they don't know what they're moving toward."
He crouched near the control cabinet and read the visible status lights. Eli saw him register the amber indicator and glanced at the wall clock beneath the map. Ronan stood again almost immediately.
"Come with me," he said. "We're getting the right people involved."
Back upstairs, Ronan led Eli into a narrow service hallway off the main gathering room. A man with close-cropped gray hair and a scar running from one ear toward his jaw arrived moments later, moving with the quiet purpose of somebody who had been asked to do important things before. He was thinner than Boone but carried himself with an unmistakable solidity. His name was Cutter, and Eli would come to learn that he spoke rarely because he did not like wasting words that might be needed later.
"This is Eli Mercer," Ronan said. "He found a buried control room under the rear platform. There have been unauthorized changes to the building systems. I want an emergency response started and a quiet plan to move people out."
Cutter looked from Ronan to Eli. "The kid found it?"
"The dog found the first clue," Eli said.
For a brief moment, something almost like amusement touched Cutter's face. Then Ronan described what he had seen downstairs, and the expression disappeared. Cutter took out his phone, walked to the end of the hallway where the signal was strongest, and began sending messages. He moved without asking whether the situation was serious. Ronan's tone had answered that question already.
Eli stood by the open doorway and looked out at the gathering. The club members had begun serving dinner. Men who had spent the afternoon riding through freezing weather were passing plates along tables and arguing affectionately about old routes, unreliable engines, and the changing price of gasoline. Near the kitchen, a woman in a dark vest handed a steaming bowl to a man whose hand was wrapped in a bandage. A younger member lifted extra chairs from a stack and carried them toward the last crowded table.