TRELAWNY – NATIVE SON
The local dignitaries were already taking their places on the bleachers. The mayor’s wife was there, sitting next to Grace Trelawny and her two sons. The chief of police and the fire chief, both in uniform, had taken seats in the front row. The town’s founding families and its most prominent businessmen had been invited, as had many of the people who had known John Trelawny when he was growing up: his principal, his teachers, the local minister, the football coach. By quarter to twelve, every seat had been taken apart from two, right in the middle. They had both been marked with RESERVED signs.
Barriers had been erected for crowd control and by now people were lining the pavements, five or six rows deep. The local police were patrolling the edge of the street, occasionally barking out orders through their bullhorns – even though there was no need for it and nobody was listening. The atmosphere was light-hearted. It was obvious that everyone in Auburn supported John Trelawny and, if there were any protestors, they had been wise enough to stay away.
At midday exactly the parade began.
First up was the local high school marching band: the trumpets and trombones glinting brilliantly, the music blasting out. Among them was a tiny boy with a huge drum and a huge boy with a triangle. Two baton twirlers led the way and they were followed by a drill team: a dozen girls in sparkling silver, going through a series of tightly rehearsed steps. Someone threw a switch and a rap song burst out, fighting with the music from the band. But it didn’t matter. The jumble of noise and colour was what it was all about.
Then came the vehicles: open-top Cadillacs and sports cars. The president of the Chamber of Commerce, waving and looking pleased with himself. Miss Auburn and two other beauty queens with their sequins and sashes. A single fire truck with half a dozen firefighters (they got the biggest cheer from the crowd). War veterans, some of them in wheelchairs. Then dozens more children walking behind. Boy scouts, girl scouts, cub scouts. And flag bearers – all dressed identically in silver and blue – spinning flags over their heads and around their shoulders, perfectly in step.
As the procession made its way down the hill, two latecomers slipped through the seated dignitaries on the bleachers. One was a middle-aged woman with short grey hair, a thin neck and glasses that were slightly too big for her face. The other was a teenage boy, rather strangely dressed in a black suit with a white shirt, open at the collar. The clothes didn’t look right on him, as if someone had chosen them for him against his wishes. The boy was very pale. His eyes were empty. He had no expression on his face at all.
The woman muttered her apologies as the two of them took their places in their reserved seats. Susan Mortlake and Scott Tyler had arrived. Now they sat and waited for the man they had come to kill.
“We’re not going to make it,” Jamie said.
“This car won’t go any faster,” Alicia muttered. “I’m doing the best I can…”
But it was already twelve fifteen and although they had seen signs for Auburn along Highway 80, the town refused to come into sight. There were three of them in the car. Jamie was next to Alicia. Daniel was sitting in the back, leaning over them both.
Jamie hadn’t been able to explain how he had worked it out but he knew, with cold certainty, that he was right. He had seen photographs of Charles Baker when he was in the Nightrise offices in Los Angeles and Senator Trelawny had explained how the corporation was bankrolling his rival’s campaign. Perhaps this was why they had wanted Scott and Jamie in the first place. Scott could order Trelawny to throw himself under a car. He could tell him to stop breathing and the senator would suffocate then and there. The two boys had always tried to keep their powers hidden. They had learned, from bitter experience, what they were capable of. If Scott had been turned into a weapon, he would be unstoppable.
Scott. That was the other thought racing through Jamie’s mind. Of course he wanted to save the senator’s life. But if they got to Auburn in time, he would see his brother again and that mattered to him more.
“We’re here!” Alicia spoke the words and a moment later veered off the highway, taking an exit that sloped up to a bridge and over to the other side. As they turned, Jamie saw the statue of Claude Chana crouching below. Was this really the same figure that had haunted him, repeatedly, in his dreams? There could be no doubt of it. The statue might look harmless now. It wasn’t a giant or a monster. But somehow it had been sent to bring him a warning. Jamie glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Twenty-five past twelve! He wondered if he was already too late.
They reached the other side of the bridge. Now Jamie saw some of the crowds spilling over the pavements and heard the music of the marching bands. There was a policeman ahead, signalling them to move forward. But that was the wrong way. The road would lead them past the courthouse and up to the new town. Alicia needed to turn right – but that way had been blocked off. From this position, there was no sight of the bleachers, the post office, the stage where Trelawny would speak. But one thing was certain. There was nowhere to park, no way they could drive into the crowd.
The policeman was waving at them, more angrily now.
“Mum…?” Daniel muttered from the back seat.
“Hold on,” Alicia said.
She spun the wheel to the right and slammed her foot down on the accelerator. The tyres screamed. The car shot forward and down the hill towards the crowd.
John Trelawny was in the back of a vintage 1960s Cadillac. The mayor of Auburn was next to him. As usual there was a secret-service man driving. Warren Cornfield was in the front passenger seat, his eyes completely hidden behind a pair of solid black wraparound sunglasses. There were two more secret-service men walking with the car, one on each side. They had followed Trelawny all the way down the street and the strange thing was that, despite the heat, they had barely broken into a sweat.
Trelawny could see his wife sitting in the bleachers next to another woman, whom he had met earlier that morning – she was married to the mayor. His two sons were sitting there too and he knew that they wouldn’t be enjoying this. Both of them felt shy about being out in public. His car had almost completed its circuit around the bleachers and any minute now it would stop and he and the mayor would get out. The speeches would begin. It seemed so strange to be here. Trelawny remembered playing in these streets as a child. And now here he was, fifty years old, and all these people had turned out on account of him. He wished his parents were alive to see this moment. He also hoped the speeches wouldn’t go on too long.
The car slowed down and stopped. Warren Cornfield was the first out, his hand resting on the car door, his head swivelling to take in the crowds.
About fifteen metres away, in the middle of the bleachers, Susan Mortlake leant over and rested her hand on Scott’s arm.
“All right, my dear,” she whispered. “It’s time. Do it now.”
There was a filling station at the bottom of the slope and it was the one thing in the town that hadn’t closed. Alicia drove off the ramp and into the forecourt, skidding to a halt beside the pumps. She and Jamie left the car. Daniel scrambled out after them.
“Hey!” The garage attendant had come out of his office. “You can’t leave that here!”
But they were already on their way, abandoning the car, pushing their way through the crowds. Alicia knew that they were in danger. The policeman on the bridge must have seen what they had done and he would have put out a radio alert. There was a presidential candidate in the area and anyone behaving strangely would have to be brought down quickly. In other words, shoot first – ask questions later. She wished now that she had left Daniel behind.
“How are we going to find him?” Jamie shouted.
He couldn’t absorb it all: the people in their thousands, the bands still playing, the welcoming banners, the sunlight, the flags flying red, white and blue. He felt he was being stifled. The wound in his shoulder was throbbing badly. For a moment he lost sight of Alicia.
“Watch where you’re going!” He had barged into a family. The father was a fat man, wearing a Homer Simpson T-shirt. He was scowling at him.
Alicia was a little way behind, clinging tightly onto Daniel. “Use your power!” she called to him. “You can find Scott. You don’t have to look for him.”
Jamie understood. He didn’t need to look. He could think. If Scott was anywhere near, surely he would be able to sense him. He turned his head…
And saw his brother.
