Page 58 of The List
“Mrs. Tanner, this is important. Mom went to the dentist. She should be on her way home. Please watch and have her come into your house and call me the second she gets there. Tell her not to go into our house.” He wasn’t sure what De Florio would do, but his main concern was the house phone.
If it was being monitored he sure as hell didn’t want the son of a bitch hearing what he told her. “Will you do that?”
“Of course, Brent. I was outside doing some weeding when you called. I’ll keep a lookout.”
“Please watch carefully. She should be there shortly. Remember, have her use your phone. Let me give you the extension here in the mill.”
B ARNARD KEPT WATCH THROUGH A brEAK IN THE LIVING ROOM sheers and saw when Catherine Walker turned the corner onto Live Oak Lane and headed for her driveway.
Next door an elderly woman was out in the sultry morning weeding her front flower beds.
Mrs. Walker pulled into the driveway and parked.
Two young boys ran over from next door and started talking to her.
The neighbor followed, walking through a narrow opening in the waist-high row of red tips and azaleas that formed a hedge between the properties.
The two older women talked.
The kids ran up on the porch and impatiently turned the locked front doorknob, apparently wanting to go inside the Walker house.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Catherine Walker called out.
He kept watching.
The two older women were engaged in a discussion, but he could not hear what they were saying thanks to the incessant chatter of the boys and their stomping on the front porch.
“Come with me,” the other older woman called out.
The children fled the porch and, along with the two women, walked next door.
T HE PHONE RANG, ENDING THE LONGEST TEN MINUTES B RENT COULD ever remember. He jerked up the receiver.
“Brent?” It was his mother.
“Where are you?”
“At Grace’s.”
“Mom, you must listen to exactly what I’m about to tell you and follow my instructions precisely.”
“What’s wrong, son?”
“Mom. Please. Not now. Go outside, get in your car, and leave. Go find Ashley, she’s on her morning route, probably near Registry Boulevard by now.
Get her. Then go get Lori Anne. All of you drive straight to Uncle Erik’s.
Don’t stop anywhere along the way. Go straight there and stay until you hear from me. Understand?”
Erik Walker was his father’s younger brother who lived seventy miles to the west in northeast Bulloch County on a large farm, with employees, family, and neighbors, plenty of people to discourage De Florio and associates, even if they knew where to look, which he was betting they didn’t.
“If you think you’re being followed, go to the sheriff’s department.”
“Son, you’re frightening me.”
“I don’t mean to. Just please do as I ask.
Tell Ashley to park that damn van and go.
Don’t worry about her job. She’s got to trust me on this.
Believe me, this is far more important than delivering the mail.
And none of you tell anyone where you’re going.
No one. Including Grace. I’ll call you later in the day, but under no circumstances are you to leave Uncle Erik’s until I call. ”
“Can I go in the house and get a few things?”
“No. If you need anything, buy it there or borrow it. Don’t worry about the money. Just go. Now.”
“Calm down, son. I’ll do it.”
B ARNARD WATCHED FROM THE PARLOR WINDOW AS C ATHERINE Walker climbed into the Prius and drove away.
Strange.
On a hunch he yanked off his rubber gloves, left the house, and retraced his steps to the car.
He fired up the engine, rounded the block, and parked in front of the Walker house.
He approached the front door and rang the bell, using the end of a ballpoint pen to push the button.
When no one answered he descended the porch and walked next door, where the older woman was tending her garden.
“I was looking for Mrs. Walker,” he said in a pleasant voice, adding an equally pleasant smile.
“You just missed her.”
“Darn,” he feigned. “You know when she’ll be back?”
“She didn’t say. She called her son, then left. Maybe she went to see him.”
“You know where he is?”
“He works at the paper mill. His name is Brent Walker.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll try there.”
He walked back to his car, reached for his phone, and dialed. An open channel cautioned a choice of words. “The processing is impossible. A call came from the mill and the next thing I saw was a car leaving with one person inside. Destination unknown.”
“Anything else?”
“The next-door neighbor may have been on the lookout. She verified that the son talked to the mother by phone.”
“Return to your original station. I’ll be in touch.”
J ON ENDED THE CALL AND LOOKED AT H AMILTON L EE. “T HE MOTHER left before going into the house. She received a call from Walker.”
Lee was surprised. “He had no idea your man was in the house.”
“But, like Walker said earlier, he’s not Greene. He’s a step ahead of us thanks to Mr. Bozin. He probably assumed we were monitoring the house phones.”
Lee looked at his watch.
“It seems Brent Walker has left me no choice. Bring him and Reed in now. Take them to a secure location and let me know when you have them.”
10:06 A.M.
B RENT HUNG UP FROM TALKING TO HIS MOTHER AND CALLED H ANK on his cell phone. He quickly summarized the meeting with Lee and what he’d done with his mother and Ashley. He figured with everything happening so fast, Hank’s cell phone would still be safe. “We have to get out of here.”
“I’m already working on it. Meet me at the barge dock in ten minutes. You know how to get there?”
The past couple of weeks he’d made a point of learning his way around the mill. “I know where it is.”
“Head there now,” Hank said.
J ON REACHED FOR HIS LINK TO V ICTOR J ACKS. H E PUSHED SEND ON the portable radio. “Bluebird. Robin.” The walkie-talkies were used all over the mill by a variety of personnel, though he utilized a different frequency. They were fast and efficient, but careful with their words. “Your location?”
“Outside paper machine number three.”
The mill’s electric shop was inside that building, the Boar’s Nest part. “Find and retrieve. Once in the cage, advise.”
“Roger.”
He decided to corral Brent Walker himself. Much wiser to keep Frank Barnard outside on the highway, just in case.
He exited the main conference room and headed for Building B.
B RENT LEFT RECEIVING.
Like every morning, ninety minutes ago he’d tossed his car keys into his top right desk drawer.
But if they were leaving the mill he assumed he’d need the Jeep, so he scampered up the stone stairs two at a time and headed for his office.
He pocketed the keys and left, telling his assistants that he needed to go into the mill and would be back shortly.
His boss stopped him at the door, curious about what the front office wanted.
He begged off, saying he had to tend to something immediately and would give him a full report when he got back.
He fled the general counsel’s office and loped down the hall toward the stairs. At the first step leading down from the second floor, he glanced down.
Jon De Florio opened the glass front door and entered the building.
He froze.
De Florio started up the stairs.
The first available door was to his left.
He ducked inside just as De Florio turned at the landing and started up the last flight.
The woman inside gave him a quizzical look but he headed straight for an open office, not caring who might be inside.
Thankfully, the space was unoccupied and he slipped in just as De Florio passed in the hall.
He returned to the doorway and peered right.
De Florio opened the pebbled-glass door marked GENERAL COUNSEL and stepped in.
Brent turned left and darted down to the first floor.
He avoided the front door and dashed out the rear exit.
A concrete walk led directly back to the production area, a guard gate in between.
Procedure required signing in and out, noting the time and destination.
He stopped long enough to write his name, adding General for his destination and recording the time.
10:12 A.M.
J ON ASKED THE WOMAN, “I S M R. W ALKER IN?”
“You just missed him.”
This was becoming a habit with the Walkers. “Do you know where he went?”
“He said he was going into the mill and would be back shortly.”
He retraced his steps downstairs and headed for the rear door. Outside, he fished the radio from his pocket and called Frank Barnard.
“Redbird. Robin. Has either left?”
“No.”
“Advise immediately if so.”
“Roger.”
He walked directly to management’s gate. If Walker went into the mill, he would have passed through there since the main gate was a hundred yards on the other side of the building and, on his way over, he would have seen him.
At the gate, per procedure, he stopped and signed the sheet. Instantly, he noticed the entry above his.
Made three minutes earlier.
B. Walker.
H ANK HAD ARRANGED EVERYTHING BY 9:30, ALL HE’D BEEN WAITING for was word from Brent. Once that happened, the final arrangements were put into motion.
He left the Boar’s Nest and headed down the steep metal stairs into the turmoil of paper machine number three. He took up a position across the building, concealed by the heavy equipment.
The idea was to get out unnoticed.
So he’d arranged for a distraction to occur in exactly four minutes.