Page 61 of The List

Morning sunlight was rapidly being extinguished by black clouds invading from the east. He breathed a little easier.

At least now, no matter what happened, the information would be safe.

He knew he could count on his old boss to deal with the situation and, hopefully, De Florio and his henchman wouldn’t think to look anywhere near Atlanta.

He needed to check on his mother and Ashley.

A heavy sense of paranoia had overtaken him.

Understandable, given the circumstances.

So he decided to add another layer of security to the effort.

It couldn’t hurt. Across the street was a State Farm insurance office.

He walked over and asked the lady inside if he might make a call.

He displayed his cell phone and said it had died.

She was friendly and understanding, allowing him to use an extension in an empty office.

There, he dialed the number for his uncle Erik.

To his relief, his mother had arrived. She’d also brought Ashley and Lori Anne.

“I did what you asked, son. Now, you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“I wish I could,” he said, keeping his voice low. “But for right now you’re just going to have to trust me.”

“Ashley is in a panic.”

“Let me talk to her.”

“Brent,” Ashley said, coming immediately on the line. “What the hell’s happening? Are you okay?”

“I’ll be all right,” he said for her benefit.

“I’m scared to death. What’s going on? This could cost me my job.”

“I can’t go into it right now. You’re just going to have to sit tight and be patient. But don’t worry about your job. They’ll understand.”

“Is Daddy involved in this? Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s involved and he’s fine.”

“Brent, why can’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“Just keep an eye on Lori Anne. I’m counting on you.” He tried to hide the edge in his voice. “Put Mom back on. And Ashley… I love you.”

He hadn’t said that to anyone in a long time. But he knew he had to.

“I love you too.”

“Son, are you in trouble?” His mother still sounded irritated.

“You could say that.”

“With the police?”

“It’s far more complicated than that.”

“Can I help?”

He knew she didn’t understand. “Unfortunately, no. Please, just stay there till you hear from me again. Keep people around you. Tell no one you’re there if somebody calls and don’t let anybody out of your sight. Don’t call my cell phone and tell Ashley not to call Hank’s.”

“Brent.”

He heard the strain in her voice.

“I don’t want to lose you too.”

He knew what she meant and he wanted to tell her everything, but knew he couldn’t. He hoped later there’d be a time and place for that. So he offered her some consolation, mixed with a twinge of hope.

“You won’t.”

He said goodbye and hung up.

More thunder echoed in the distance.

He climbed back into the Mustang and looked at his clothes.

His shirt was soaking wet and filthy. The navy-blue pants to his once clean suit were smeared with caustic lime.

His shoes, a new pair of wing tips bought only a few weeks ago, were caked in mud and dust. He needed a change of clothes.

So he drove down the street and turned into the first shopping center, parking in front of a Walmart Superstore.

Inside, he paid cash for a pair of jeans, a cotton pullover shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes.

The jeans were okay in the waist but a little long so he simply rolled the legs and made do.

Back outside, he stuffed his phone in his jeans pocket and tossed his suit into the back seat.

On the Mustang’s passenger’s-side floorboard he noticed a soiled navy-blue Atlanta Braves cap.

He stuffed it on. The cloth carried the faint smell of fish.

A pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses stuck out from under the driver’s-side visor.

He slipped them on too and checked his watch.

12:27 P.M.

12:45 P.M.

B RENT SAT IN THE K RYSTAL AND TRIED TO EAT A FEW OF THE TINY square hamburgers he’d adored since childhood, but didn’t have much of an appetite. Suddenly, his phone vibrated and he checked the display. Not a number he recognized, but the prefix signified Concord.

He answered.

“Where are you?” the voice asked.

Hank.

“Nearby. And you?”

“A house on Eagle Lake. It’s a place a friend of mine has. He always said I could use it whenever. I guess this is whenever.”

“You think it’s safe being that close?”

“I need to stay around here. I’ve got a lot of people I can call on if we need ’em. Besides, there’s nothing out here but trees and water.”

“Give me directions.”

Hank told him how to get there.

“I know where that is.”

“That’s good. It looks like it’s just you and me.”

He stared at the wall clock across the dining room. “I’ll be there in a little while.”

“See you then.”

“You want anything to eat?”

“Hell no, my stomach’s in knots.”

“Mine, too. Are you on a landline?”

“Absolutely. This house has one.”

“No more cell calls. These guys are not the cops. They don’t have access to all the cell towers for any triangulation or tracing. But we still need to hedge our bets. Turn your cell phone off and throw it in the lake. I’ll see you shortly.”

He hung up and sat back in the booth.

Outside, thunder cracked closer. It would soon be raining hard.

He remembered the memorial service scheduled to begin at one.

For appearances’ sake he’d originally planned to attend.

Hamilton Lee would certainly be there, probably leaving for it about now.

Time to see if he could place the brakes on whatever Lee was planning.

Slow things down. It was worth a try. So he dialed the main number for the mill, asking the switchboard to transfer his call to the CEO’s office.

“Is Hamilton Lee still there?”

“He’s on the way out to the memorial service.”

“This is Brent Walker in the general counsel’s office. Tell him I need to talk to him.”

“Mr. Lee is running late.”

“It’s urgent. I’m sure he’ll make time. He’ll know what it’s about.”

“Hold on.”

A minute later Lee came on the line. “Yes, Brent. What can I do for you?”

“Back off. We can work this out.”

“I am still at a loss as to what you are referring to.”

“Okay, be cautious. After all, I could be calling from the nearest FBI office with a recorder going. But I’m not. Back off, or the next call will be from there.”

“Should I take that as a threat?”

“Take it any way you please.”

And he ended the call.

3:15 P.M.

L EE AND H UGHES RETURNED TO THE MILL AFTER THE MEMORIAL service.

The ceremony had been heavily attended, running longer than expected.

Even De Florio dutifully went while Frank Barnard and Victor Jacks continued to search in and around Concord on the off chance their quarries had stayed in town.

De Florio, Lee, and Hughes convened in the main conference room. Lee told them about Brent’s call.

“Sounds like Walker’s ready to turn us in,” Hughes said.

“Then why are we still walking around?” Lee asked. “Get real, Larry. He was bluffing, buying time, trying to rattle us.”

De Florio agreed.

“What about it, Jon,” Lee said, “any idea where they are?”

“We’ve checked both their homes, but nobody is there. Reed’s daughter and granddaughter are gone too. My guess is they got their families off to a safe place.”

“Any chance of finding out where?”

De Florio shook his head. “We’ve done only minimal background checks on the families.”

“What about the taps on Walker’s phone in his office and the one Reed uses all the time in his break room. Anything there?” Hughes asked.

“No calls all day.”

“Obviously,” Lee said, “they talked with each other. That escape was well coordinated.”

“True,” De Florio said. “But there are a multitude of phones scattered through the mill. They could have used any one of them. Most likely, they are using cell phones.”

“I didn’t want to do this, as it could draw undue attention,” Lee said. “But I think we have no choice.”

De Florio nodded, understanding, then stepped from the room.

“What was that all about?” Hughes asked.

Lee beamed a broad smile. “I own the Woods County Telephone Company.”

“When did you buy that?” Hughes asked.

“Six months ago. One of my holding companies secured a controlling interest.”

“You didn’t bother telling anyone.”

“I told Jon. Other than that I didn’t really think it was anyone’s business what I bought or sold. It’s actually been rather useful in his preparatory work on Priorities. You can learn a lot from a person’s telephone records. All in all, though, it’s not a profitable venture.”

“You know the rules, Hamilton. We should have been told.”

“So what are you going to do about it? It isn’t two to one anymore, Larry. It’s just me and you. I’d suggest you let me run things my way. We’ll all be a whole lot better off.”

Hughes said nothing more and sat silent the entire five minutes until De Florio returned.

“I was careful with my inquiries, feigning a theft situation with one of our employees. But they ran a check on Walker and Reed’s cell phones.

They both have service through your company.

Three hours ago a call came to Walker’s cell phone.

From a landline. It’s a house on Eagle Lake owned by a Leon Peacock.

He works at the bag plant and lives in town, but built the place a few years ago for his retirement.

Peacock’s on vacation this week, visiting his daughter in South Carolina. ”

“How did you find all that out in five minutes?” Hughes asked.

“I checked Peacock’s personnel file. That led me to our banking records. He obtained a mortgage from the Woods County State Bank for the construction. A call to his supervisor at the bag plant provided me with where he was and what he’s doing.”

“You think they’re out at Eagle Lake?” Lee asked.

“We’ll know in thirty minutes.”