“Don’t worry about it, Kat, my dear,” Sanborn said. The words were meant to be reassuring, but an edge crept into Sanborn’s voice.
Daryn’s voice rose. “I will worry about it. You don’t keep things from me around here.
“Leave it alone,” Sanborn said, his voice low.
“Goddammit, Franklin, what’s in the fucking cases?”
Sanborn faced her savagely. “C-4. Plastic explosive.”
All movement had stopped, as if choreographed.
“Oh, shit,” Sean said.
“Come on now, Kat,” Sanborn said. “Don’t be foolish. You’re not as naive as your little pet over there, after all.” He pointed at Britt. “You understand the world. Going and making speeches or putting on sex shows or sending out press releases will not get the attention of the rulers. Those things are components of the plan, but they will be useless, utterly pointless, unless we get their attention first!” His voice had risen steadily until he was almost shouting.
“But you said…” Daryn was trembling. “Franklin, what about how violence dilutes the message of the Coalition? You said-”
“This is what we’re doing, Kat!” Sanborn shouted, and all resemblance to the genial, easygoing professor was gone, as if it had vanished along with the morning mists. “Does anyone want to challenge me?”
No one moved. No one spoke.
“Well?” Sanborn thundered.
Britt shuffled her feet.
“You keep quiet, young Britt,” Sanborn said. “I only allowed you here so Kat could have a toy to play with. Stay in her shadow where you belong.”
“Look, Sanborn…” Sean said.
“The same with you, you drunken fool!” He lowered his voice, then softened his posture. “Listen to me, people. The explosives are only enough to break some windows, to grab attention. Then we go through with the demonstration.”
Sean swallowed. “You think you can set off an explosive at a downtown bank building, and calmly go about doing an organized demonstration? It’ll never happen. It’ll be pure chaos, and you’ll be arrested. You stand around there to make speeches after doing that and everyone will be arrested under the Patriot Act.”
“And how do you know so much about this, Michael?”
Sean tossed his duffel bag into the Jeep and slammed the door. “Drunken fool or not, I do pay attention to the world around me. It’s suicide for yourselves, and for the movement, if you do it this way.”
“I can do without your input,” Sanborn said. “But perhaps I should clarify one thing-the demonstration won’t be at the same bank as the attention getter. There are other banks downtown. Alan?”
Davenport, who’d been standing by Sanborn’s car, stepped forward. “There’s a Chase Bank around the corner from Bank of America Plaza, at Main and Broadway. Those of us doing the demonstration will be there instead of at B of A. We point out that while the ruling classes and their law enforcement puppets scurry to find out what happened to their banking center,
“You’re crazy,” Sean muttered.
“Wait, Michael,” Daryn said.
Sean turned, his heart pounding. Daryn was looking at him strangely. She looked at him for a long moment, then slowly turned to Sanborn. “We don’t want to hurt any real people.”
Sanborn exhaled noisily. “Of course not. We break some glass, that’s all. Don and CJ simply walk up to the door and put down the cases. They walk away. There’s a small explosion. We’re around the corner. We do our public demonstration. By the time anyone figures out what’s going on, we’re finished and on the move again. Don’t you see, Kat? It has to be this way.”
Daryn waited for a long moment. “We’ve come too far to let the Coalition fall apart.”
“I know that,” Sanborn said. “You have to trust me, Kat. I don’t want real people to be hurt either. But if we don’t first start with getting their attention, then the message itself will be lost. We’re not terrorists, because the
Daryn waited again, looking across the clearing, watching every face.
“Let’s go,” she said.
“Kat,” Sean said.
“Shhh, let’s go.”
“And you should control your pets a little better, Kat,” Sanborn said.
“They’re not pets, Franklin. They’re real people.”
“Perhaps,” Sanborn said, and walked to his car.
“Kat,” Sean said.
“Get in the car, Michael,” Daryn said.
“But-”
The other two Coalition members who’d been assigned to ride with them approached the Jeep, but Sean said, “No, ride with someone else!” and they melted away.
Sean, Britt, and Daryn climbed into the Jeep. “I’m not a pet,” Britt said. “He shouldn’t have called me that.”
“No, sweetie, he shouldn’t have,” Daryn said without looking at the other woman. “And he shouldn’t have kept it from me that he was planning to use explosives.”
She stared through the glass of the windshield. Sanborn’s car pulled out of the clearing. Next came one of the trucks. Don Wheaton sat in the bed, staring at her as they passed. Jeannie Davis’s minivan went next. CJ sat in the front passenger seat. Sean pulled the Jeep in behind them.
“You can’t let this happen,” Sean said as they wound toward the road.
“I know,” Daryn said, “but you heard him. I didn’t…dammit, no one stood up to him.” She dropped her head into her hands. “I’ve been an idiot. I believed him, I trusted him, and he’s taken my movement-
She looked up. Her eyes burned into him. To Sean’s surprise, she began to cry. Tears were not something he associated with her-for some reason, he hadn’t thought she was capable of crying.
They reached the highway and the little caravan turned south toward Mulhall, toward Guthrie, the interstate, and Oklahoma City. Toward Bank of America Plaza.
“Michael,” Daryn said, still crying, tears streaking her pale face.
Sean glanced at her. He still saw Britt out of the corner of his eye. She was staring at him too.
“Michael, please,” Daryn said. “We have to stop this. Even if he says it’ll just break windows, it might not. What if someone is standing right next to the window when it breaks? We can’t…”
Sean pulled off the road in front an abandoned car wash just as they crossed into Mulhall. He took out his cell phone and started punching buttons.
“Who are you calling?” Britt said.
“Someone who can help.”
The phone rang three times.
A moment later he heard his sister’s voice: “Where the hell are you?”
“I don’t have time to explain,” Sean said. “Listen to me. Call your friend.”
“What? What friend?”
“What do you mean,
Faith was quiet for a moment. “Why?”
“He needs to get some more friends and they need to go to the Bank of America in downtown Oklahoma City. It’s on…” He glanced at Daryn. “What’s the street again?” He realized he was supposed to live in Oklahoma City, and by asking the question, his cover may have been blown. But then, he was going to blow it himself anyway, very soon.
Daryn looked at him quizzically, turning the question over in her mind. “Well, it’s on Robinson.”
“Robinson,” Sean said into the phone. “It’s right downtown, near the memorial. Your friend and his friends should get there quick if they want to stop something from happening.”
“Sean,” Faith said. “I can tell that you feel like you can’t talk, but what’s this about?”
Sean took a deep breath. “It’s about preventing an act of terrorism. Please believe me. Whatever bullshit there may be between you and me, believe me on this. It’s real, and it’s serious.”
Faith waited. “I believe you,” she finally said. “I’ll call Scott.”
“I’ll talk to you later,” Sean said before she could say anything else, then clicked the End button on his phone.
“Who was that?” Daryn asked. She reached out and took Sean’s free hand. His other hand was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were the color of paste.
“Just someone I know,” Sean said.
He pulled back onto Highway 77 and accelerated to catch up with the rest of the Coalition for Social Justice.
19
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER SEAN EXITED THE Centennial Expressway into downtown Oklahoma City. He took Sixth Street west to Robinson, then turned south toward the heart of downtown. He recognized the area now-it was very, very close to the federal courthouse and his sister’s office.
With the stop he’d made to call Faith, they’d fallen a few minutes behind the other Coalition cars. As he slowed into the southbound flow of traffic, Sean searched for them. Bank of America Plaza was ahead on his right. He recognized the red, white, and blue logo and saw the courtyard, which was commanded by an unusual modernistic sculpture just off the street: huge reddish orange metal cylinders, each open on one side, all twining around each other, reaching toward the sky.
People were milling around the courtyard, up and down the sidewalks. Men and women in FBI wind-breakers were scattered about. A knot of people broke behind a car that was parked illegally right in front of the courtyard. Sean drew in his breath-it was Jeannie Davis’s van.
“My God,” Daryn whispered.
