“We had a simple plan, gentlemen, with carefully constructed objectives. However, here we stand, in the parking lot of a flour factory, without which the locals would be unable to prepare country ham biscuits. My pride swells, gentlemen.”
The youngest of the four men snickered.
“Good one,” he said, taking a puff from his cigarette.
Agatha snatched the cigarette from his mouth and tossed it. She raised a sharp index finger and tightened her jowls.
“Christian, I have repeatedly warned you about those despicable instruments of death,” she said. “No more.”
“Come on, Mom. I only got a few more hours. There won’t be any cigs where we’re going. Bad enough I won’t be able to walk at graduation.”
“And I will not see the wreckage wrought by my finals. We will survive. Do I now have your absolute attention?”
Christian Bidwell, wearing a black t-shirt bearing Albion County School’s blue rams head logo, tucked his gun into his pants. He crossed his broad, muscular arms, and the all-sport star who doubled as Student Council President nodded to the others to listen to his mother.
She revealed a cell phone that was not her own.
“Young James left this behind at his flat,” she said. “We have only this limited evidence because of a heavy-handed approach clearly fueled by a desire to favor savagery over rational diplomacy.”
“In other words,” Christian told Rand, “you blew it.”
“Don’t be vulgar,” Agatha hissed.
“Just saving time, Mom.”
Rand took a long drag on his cigarette and exhaled through his nose.
“I can speak for myself, thank you. Ignatius drew. I know we agreed to avoid extreme measures, but the way I saw it ...”
“You did not follow my explicitly detailed guidelines,” Agatha interrupted. “Consequently, we found ourselves hiding the remains of a Chancellor with whom we might have reached detente.”
“I beg to differ. The kid was right there. We had him. Might be dead as we speak. And your son is right. You could stand to trim a bit of fat from your imperial English.”
Christian reached for his pack of cigarettes. “What I’ve been saying for years, Mom. Cut to the chase. Less is more.” He grabbed a cigarette and stuck it between his lips then turned to the others. “She’s been called the Queen Bee around this town for so long, I think she likes it.”
Agatha stepped back. She watched as her son lit another cigarette despite her express orders. Instead, Agatha massaged her left temple, the very place where every teenager-induced headache began.
“Enough,” she announced. “Killing young James was never going to be that simplistic. However, I have studied the boy’s phone. He was communicating with Michael Cooper, his friend, for the past several hours. The final text came shortly after 1 a.m. I believe a visit to Mr. Cooper’s home would be strategically prudent. Christian, I believe you are acquainted with Mr. Cooper?”
Christian laughed after a puff. “Sure. Coop’s an ass, but an easy mark. Face to face, he’s a tool.”
“Let us hope you are correct,” Agatha told her son. “He needs to turn over James, and you will convince him.”
“What about me?” Rand said.
“An opportunity to redeem yourself,” Agatha smiled. “Benjamin has been repeatedly texting and calling James. He is on his way back to Albion from his usual late-night indulgences. I suspect by now his conscience and his inebriation have left him in a dire strait. Intercept him at his apartment, Rand. Interrogate him.”
“If he fights back …”
“Understand, I do not wish injury to come to any of our people. For all our considerable disagreements, we are Chancellors. We came here in united cause fifteen years ago. I want all of us to return home and be welcomed into the fold of those who value our choices. Three of us have already fallen.” She paused for a moment of silence. “Diplomacy first, Rand. Remind him of the morality of our case. Yes?”
She told Rand to return on foot, and he obeyed. Agatha turned to the twin 6-foot-10 Cobb brothers, Jonathan and Dexter, who ran a small auto-body shop on the outskirts of town.
“Begin reconnaissance across the southern perimeter. Follow our coordinated grid approach and report to me every ten minutes. Unless James has fallen into Walter’s hands, we must assume the boy is desperate and wounded. Monitor all police transmissions. We took care of the matter of those gunshots. I contacted Sheriff Everson, told him the Marlette boys had gone firecracker mad and that he might visit them in the morning. He seemed satisfied. That spineless man does not work after sunset. However, I suspect there will soon be concerns about a certain deputy’s radio silence.”
“What about Walter?” Jonathan said. “Shouldn’t we deal with him?”
“I am. I rerouted Arthur Tynes and Arlene Winters from escape preparations in order to observe Walter’s residence. They should arrive shortly. If James finds his way there, we will have sufficient response. But we know the dangers of a frontal assault against Walter and that family.”
“If Walter hadn’t been so damn stubborn,” Dexter said, “all this would be over by now.”
“True. But he has been our guiding light for most of this exile. He kept our morale in place during those first critical months. I prefer he have a final chance to come around to our vision.” She turned to her son. “You, Christian, have a classmate to torture. Put out that odious cigarette and drive.”
Christian took a long, final puff. “Go Rams!”
7
2:45 a.m.
J AMIE CLIMBED THROUGH the window and tumbled forward onto pure white shag carpet. He
