“Klan?” Christian said. “You comparing us to that sorry bunch of backcountry yahoos? Got news for you, Coop. Us Chancellors understand the true nature of the human race. We know how to segregate undesirables, and race is not how we do it.”
“Chancellors? That’s what you people call yourselves? So you got a club name. Good for you, Chrissy. Good for you.”
Christian leaned in. “Tell me something, Coop. What you figure it would feel like to have your balls ripped out and fed to a dog?”
“I reckon it’d hurt like a mother, but at least the dog would think he’s eating steak and walk off satisfied. A damn sight better than the garden peas he’d get from you.”
Michael couldn’t believe he still had the gumption. The past half-hour proved to be sobering, as Michael endured what he thought was little more than a death march. He sat in the rear of Agatha’s car under guard as the English teacher and the track coach searched Jamie and Ben’s apartment, confiscated the brothers’ laptop, and offered praise for the courage of the late Rand Paulus despite the flour mill foreman’s failure to kill either of the Sheridans.
He listened as Agatha contacted all the others whom he now knew as Chancellors and coordinated their rendezvous in the field. He discerned that the Huggins family and Ben escaped town with Jamie in tow, and their destination – the “safe house” - was a mystery. The Chancellors gathered to decipher where Jamie might be hidden.
“Walter was always guarded,” Agatha told Arthur Tynes as they drove south. “He never spoke of the safe house. He believed security might be compromised were all of us made aware.”
“Compromised by whom?” Arthur asked. “The United Green?”
“Naturally.” They shared a laugh. “He never explained how they might possibly exploit our defenses, assuming they even managed to traverse the fold. When we came through the fold, Green operatives were years away from such inroads. My miscalculation was that his true paranoia was focused not upon the Green but upon us.”
Michael thought to ask who in hell these ‘Green’ were, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. No one answered any of his questions; he still had no idea why Jamie was so important or why they kept talking about “the rebirth.” Now, as he stood in the field with people who might as well have been from another planet, Michael assumed only minutes remained before someone put a bullet in his head and threw him in a ditch.
The Chancellors did not need long to turn their complete attention in his direction. Agatha ordered Michael to his knees; Christian pushed his fellow student to the ground.
“We have something to show you,” Agatha said. “I fully expect you to explain what you see. And I should caution you, Mr. Cooper, against any further sarcasm or feeble attempts at a brand of humor most intelligent humans would find insufferable. Yes?”
The laptop screen filled with the image of three teenagers posing arm-in-arm. In the center, Michael flashed a clownish grin exposing brilliant white teeth. To Michael’s right, a blond, fair-skinned boy perhaps an inch taller tried to force a smile, but his teeth remained hidden. To Michael’s left, a girl who had not yet escaped braces mustered an also-limited smile.
Arthur read the caption. “‘Me, Coop, Sammie. Lake house. August. Great weekend.’”
Michael saw part of a rugged home in the background fashioned with dark wood planks and a platform extending over water. Beyond the house, the trees were taller and thicker than the pines that dominated the landscape around Albion.
“Look, I got no idea why you’re doing this. I mean, I don’t remember that too well.”
Agatha dropped to his eye level and tightened her jowls. “I intended for you to survive this experience, Mr. Cooper. I have now reconsidered.”
Michael paused, his eyes drifting away. “Oh. Yeah. That. I only been there once. How the hell am I gonna remember something like that when you got me by the balls in the middle of a cotton pickin’ cornfield?”
“So, you know this place? Might the Huggins family be there?”
“I reckon. Sure. I seem to recall they own it.”
“Own? That’s not …” Agatha caught herself. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. That’s what Sammie told me. Come to think on it, she tried to take it back, or at least wanted to make sure I didn’t tell anybody else.”
Agatha faced the others. “We had a strict agreement to report all property ownership. Walter never disclosed this information.” She smiled. “I have an idea of the location. Walter often talked about how he loved Lake Vernon, how he sometimes rented a cabin when he took Samantha to field training.” She switched back to Michael. “What is the exact address?”
He coughed. “It was one time. I dunno. It’s down some road right off Highway 39. Lake Vernon, like you said.”
Agatha turned to Arthur. “Manipulate the image. Search for any geographic detail that might narrow the possibilities. Is this the only image?”
“Uncertain. He stored hundreds of photos. I’m also scouring Ben’s files, but they’re proving difficult. Impressive encryption. Tom and Marlena taught him well.”
Agatha sighed. “Now, Mr. Cooper. I’m faced with a quandary. I can assume we’ll soon have an address and directions to this residence. In that case, I would be merciful and kill you now. Or I can give you the chance to jog your memory and guide us to our new destination. In which case, your life is extended. Which option best serves your needs?”
Michael didn’t hesitate. “All else being equal, I like to breathe.”
“Of course you do.” Agatha ordered him into the car with Christian.
As he did so, Michael heard Agatha speak
