—then the shooter jerked back to the tune of a couple of silenced coughs. Matt blinked. It took him a second to realize what had happened, then he saw Danny gripping Maddox’s gun tightly, a thin tendril of smoke spiraling out of the muzzle of its silencer. Danny stared at the shooter’s inert body for a beat, then turned to Matt, his face locked in disbelief at what he’d done—
Danny opened his mouth to say something—
Matt’s eyes went wide—
“Watch out,” he blurted, but—
It was too late—Maddox had already sprung to his feet behind Danny. He crashed into him as Matt dived for the gun that had fallen from his shooter. Matt managed to grab it before Maddox made it to the gun Danny had dropped—only Danny was blocking a clear shot. Maddox’s eyes met Matt’s for a nanosecond before he shoved Danny toward Matt and scurried back away from them, and disappeared behind the van.
“Move,” Matt yelled to Danny, pushing him away, bolting after Maddox—he charged around the van and into the thicket of trees that edged the parking lot, but the darkness had swallowed his quarry up. Matt fired a couple of rounds out of frustration, but he knew he wasn’t going to score a hit. Maddox was gone.
The lot went eerily quiet. Matt turned, scanned the area, then stepped around Rydell and his fallen shooter and joined Danny. He embraced him with a big bear hug. Pulled him back and ruffled his hair.
“Merry Christmas,” he told him.
“Best one ever,” Danny replied, his face all lit up with nervous relief. Rydell got up and joined them. Danny faced him for a beat, a hard, angry glare simmering in his eyes. Then he balled his fists and whipped up his still-tied arms in a big, curving swing that caught Rydell on the cheek and knocked him to the ground. Rydell spat out some blood, but stayed down for a moment. Then looked up at Danny, who was just looming over him.
Matt looked on curiously. “I couldn’t have made it here without his help, bro,” Matt told Danny.
Danny eyed Rydell a couple of more seconds, then turned away and shrugged dubiously. “It’s a start,” he grunted.
“Can we get out of here now?” Matt asked, stepping across to help Rydell up.
Rydell looked toward Danny. “I’m sorry,” he said, his words laced with genuine regret.
“Like I said,” Danny said as he walked away, “it’s a start.”
Less than a minute later, they were in the van, pulling away from the hotel’s parking lot and easing past the long rows of parked cars that lined the roads on both sides.
Chapter 78
They’d changed motels for safety, moving to a different side of town, just in case—although with Maddox badly hurt and a lot of his men dead, they were starting to feel like maybe the crosshairs had lifted off them a little.
Danny and Matt were in their own world. They had a lot of catching up to do and took turns filling each other in on their tortured journeys.
“I’ve got to call Mom and Dad, let them know I’m okay,” Danny said enthusiastically, still fired up by his escape.
Matt had skirted around mentioning them, but he couldn’t duck it any longer. He held Danny’s gaze as he tried to find the words to tell him what had happened, but Danny read his expression before he’d eked out a single word.
“Who? . . . Mom?” he asked.
Matt nodded, but his pained look held more portent than just one parent.
“Not . . . both?” Danny mouthed the words in total disbelief.
Matt nodded again.
Danny’s face tightened, drowning with confusion. Then it just crumpled with profound grief. Matt had already told him about Bellinger’s murder. The triple whammy hit him real hard. He sank to the floor and gripped his head in his hands, feeling as if his veins were flooding with lava.
A more somber mood enshrouded them as Danny told Matt of his despair during those two years. How he’d tried to sneak an e-mail out to him and been caught. How he’d contemplated suicide. How they’d threatened him and drugged him after that.
“You’re here now,” Matt finally told him. “You’re out and you’re safe.” Matt smiled. “And that’s way more than either of us had a couple of days ago.”
“Tell me more. About Mom and Dad. About how it all happened,” Danny asked him.
IN AN ADJACENT ROOM, Rydell stewed alone. He’d found it as uncomfortable to be around Danny as Danny found it to be around him. He also had a lot on his mind.
It was over, that much was clear. Once Gracie returned, the story would blow wide open. And then, whichever way you looked at it, his life was over too. His role in it would be part of the story. A big part of it. There was no way anyone was going to shield him from it. Not Gracie, not Matt or Danny, not Drucker. And even if they’d wanted to, there was no way they’d be able to do it. Not in this blog-rich age. And he wasn’t prepared to run either. It wasn’t his style. Besides, there was nowhere for him to run to. No, he’d be there to face up to what he’d been a part of.
The hardest part of it all was thinking about what it would do to Rebecca. It would be nothing short of devastating. It would follow her for the rest of her life. His mind kept churning it, desperate to find a way to mitigate that, to keep her out of it, but there was nothing he could think of that could do that.
BY THE TIME GRACIE and Dalton finally joined them a couple of hours later, the reunion was a bittersweet, subdued celebration. Yes, they were all safe. Yes, Danny was alive—and free. And Gracie and Dalton were about to become superstars. But there was a downside to the forthcoming media feeding frenzy too. A downside well beyond Rydell’s very public downfall. One that looked far more daunting the more they talked about it.
In the background, a TV was switched on, replaying the evening’s events in an almost continuous loop, with all kinds of talking heads coming in and out to comment on it.
“What’s this going to do to all those people who were out there celebrating tonight?” Gracie asked, pointing at the screen, her voice edgy with concern. “And not just them, but everyone around the country who was tuning in. Everyone around the planet who’s been buying into Drucker’s scam, for that matter. What’s going to happen to them? How are they going to take it?”
“What’s the alternative?” Dalton countered. “We can’t let the lie run. We’d just be digging all those people a deeper hole for Drucker to push them into. The sooner we end this, the better.”
“I know.” Gracie nodded. “It still feels wrong. It’s lose-lose.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose, then spread her fingers out and massaged her forehead. “I hate this,” she groaned.
“Finch was murdered because of it,” Dalton reminded her.
“Vince too,” Danny added. “And Reece. And many others.”
Gracie heaved a ponderous sigh. “They were killed to keep it quiet until Drucker was ready to pull the cover off. And now we’re going to do it for him.”
“We have to do this,” Danny chimed in. “The longer it runs, the more painful it will be when the truth comes out.”
Gracie nodded grudgingly, then said to Rydell, “I’ll need you to go on the record. We’ll need the evidence.”
Rydell nodded somberly. “What choice do I have?”
She shifted her gaze across the room. “Danny?”
He nodded. “Hell, yes.”
Gracie acknowledged it, then slumped back in her seat, a frustrated, haunted pallor to her face.
Rydell turned to Danny. “How were they planning on doing this? Do you know? How were they going to expose him?”
“They made me design a debunking software. They were going to run it over him once they were ready to out him.”
Rydell pressed. “What does it do?”
“It simulates a breakdown in the technology. Like if you’re watching TV and the signal breaks up. It makes it go all jumpy with static, then it just crashes. It’s designed to be minimally counterintuitive. What you’d expect to see if the sign was a fake. It’ll conjure up a broadcast that’s going haywire.” Danny gav
e him an uncomfortable smile. “It was either that or a huge Coca-Cola sign.”
“What if we don’t do this and it never comes out?” Gracie threw in, thinking aloud. “I mean, what if there was a way to get Drucker and his guys to keep their mouths shut?”
“The evangelicals would get to keep their new messiah, and Darby and his friends on the far right would get to choose our next few presidents,” Rydell observed gloomily.
“Well by breaking the story and letting people know who was really behind it and what their agenda was, it’ll be even worse,” Gracie countered. “Either way, Darby and all his pals are going to come out of this stronger. Once you and Drucker are exposed, all the heathens and depraved liberals across the country are going to be demonized. We’ll be giving the hard-core right their biggest rallying cry since the fall of the evil empire. Branding people as ‘anti-American’ will get a whole new lease on life. They’ll run away with the next ten elections and turn the country into a Christian theocracy.”
“Hang on, we’re talking about a handful of guys who put this stunt in play, not an entire political party,” Danny protested.
“It doesn’t matter,” Gracie argued back. “What matters is how they’ll spin it. How they’ll use it to split the country even further. They’ll tar everyone with the same brush and make it look like everyone on Drucker’s side of the aisle was in cahoots with him. That’s what they do. And they’re damn good at it too. Just imagine what someone like Karl Rove could do with it.”
“Hey, maybe we could draft him and the other scumbags who sold us the war in Iraq and have them pin this thing on Iran,” Dalton joked.
The others all turned to him with deeply unamused eyes.
“What? I’m kidding,” he protested, his palms turned out.
A dreary silence smothered the room. On the TV, the anchor was back on briefly before the image cut away to footage of violent riots in Islamabad and in Jerusalem. Across the screen, people were clashing furiously as cars blazed behind them. Police officers and soldiers were in the thick of it, trying to stop the carnage.
Gracie sat up. “Turn it up,” she told Dalton, who was closest to the TV.
“. . . religious leaders have urged their followers to show restraint while the questions surrounding Father Jerome are answered, but the violence here shows no sign of abating,” an off-camera reporter was saying.
An anchor came back on, and a banner at the bottom of the screen said, “President to make statement on Houston events.”
“Following the unprecedented events in Houston earlier this evening,” he announced, “a White House spokeswoman indicated that the president would be making a statement tomorrow.”
Gracie and the others didn’t need to hear the rest.
Drucker’s web was spinning out of control.
“Even the president’s getting suckered into this,” Rydell said.
“We can’t let that happen,” Gracie insisted. She let out a dejected sigh and sagged back in her seat. “This is just going to sink us all.” The room went silent. After a moment, Dalton asked, “So what do we do? ’Cause it seems to me like we need to do this pronto, but we’re screwed either way, whether we expose it or not.”
Rydell sat up. “We can expose it,” he stated. “We have to. But only if I take the fall for it. Alone.”
That got everyone’s attention.
He pressed on. “It’s the only way.” His voice was quivering slightly, a tremble of nerves that was alien to Larry Rydell. “My plan didn’t call for a fall guy. It was never intended to empower or undermine any religion. It was just meant to get people to listen. But now . . . after what they’ve done, the way they’ve turned it . . . We’re all agreed that we can’t let this lie go on. But Drucker’s right. We need a fall guy with no political motive if we’re going to avoid tearing this country apart. And that fall guy’s got to be me.” He sighed, then looked around at them with renewed determination. “There’s no other way out of this. If anyone here has a better idea, I’m all ears, but . . . I don’t see it happening any other way.”
“Great,” Gracie grumbled. “So Drucker wins.”
“Don’t worry about Drucker,” Rydell assured her quietly. “I’ll make sure he pays.”
Gracie nodded stoically. No one knew where to look. Rydell was right, and they knew it. But the thought of doing what Drucker was going to do anyway, albeit long before he was planning to, was swirling inside them like a tuna melt that was a month past its sell-by date.
Gracie turned to Matt. He hadn’t said a word throughout.
“You got somewhere else you got to be, cowboy?” Gracie said, a slightly provoking grin bringing a quantum of light back to her eyes.
“We’re forgetting someone in all this,” he said. “Remember?”
Gracie saw it even before he’d finished saying it. “Father Jerome.”
“Damn,” Dalton groaned.
“Can you imagine what’s going to happen to him if this thing breaks?” Matt asked.
“They’ll rip him to shreds,” Rydell said.
“But he wasn’t in on it,” Dalton noted. “You’ll make that clear, right?” he asked him.
“It doesn’t matter,” Matt frowned.
“They’ll protect him,” Dalton argued. “We can make sure they do. Get him somewhere safe before we go live.”
“And after that?” Gracie asked, her voice thick with emotion. “Where’s he going to go? His life will be over, and it’ll be our doing.” She glanced at Matt. “We can’t do this,” she argued, resolve hardening her voice. “Not without letting him know what’s about to happen to him. He needs to be part of this decision. We can’t just have it all hit him unprepared.” She shifted her focus back to Matt. “I have to see him. Talk to him—before anything happens.”
“You saw the news. They flew him back to Darby’s place,” Rydell reminded her. “You walk in there, Drucker’ll make sure you don’t come out.”
“What if you say you want to interview him, one-on-one,” Danny offered.
“Too dangerous,” Rydell grumbled. “Besides, he’s got to be the most heavily protected guy on the planet right now.”
Gracie glanced over at Matt. He seemed to be processing something. “What?” she asked him.
He turned to Danny. “How much gear is there in that van?” he asked him, hooking a thumb toward the motel’s lot.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, how much of their gear is in there?”
“The full kit,” Danny said.
“What about the laser transmitter? It was inside the stadium, wasn’t it?”
“One was. We had another with us. For when the sign was all the way out over the roof. It took over then.”
Matt nodded. Visibly putting something through its motions in his mind’s eye. “And how much smart dust do you have left in there?” He caught Gracie’s expression and noticed her posture straightening up.
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“Because we’re going to need it. We can’t feed Father Jerome to the wolves.” Matt glanced around the room. “He was dragged into this, like Danny. And he’s a good man, right? As decent as they come, isn’t that what you said?” he asked Gracie. “We can’t let Drucker ruin his life. Not until he’s had his say on the matter.” He paused to gauge the others’ reaction, then turned to Gracie. “What does Darby’s place look like?”
Chapter 79
River Oaks, Houston, Texas
The chaotic scene outside the entrance to Darby’s gated community was hardly normal, but at least it was quiet. It was almost five o’clock in the morning, and the gathered masses were down for the night. They slept in their cars, in sleeping bags by the side of the road, anywhere they could. Others were still awake, huddled around makeshift campfires, chatting, milling around expectantly. A small, tireless contingent was still crowding the entrance gatehouse, waiting for their messiah to make an appearance. Some wailed in pained desperation while others sang spiritual ch
ants of varying origin. A few diehards goaded the wall of security guards and cops who manned the perimeter barricades. The news crews sheltered quietly by their vans and their satellite dishes, taking turns on watch, afraid to miss out on something. All across the neighborhood, whispered prayers wafted through the evergreen trees that lined the drives, mingling with a thin predawn mist that gave the lushly forested area a portentous, expectant feel.
The sign’s appearance changed all that.
It took them all by surprise, lighting up the night sky, blazing out of the stygian darkness, pulsating with mysterious, unexplained life as it hovered in place just above the treetops.
It was right there, up close and huge.
And it was right over Darby’s house.
The crowd snapped to attention. The believers, the reporters, the cops, the security guards. Even the dogs went manic. Within seconds, everyone was up, on edge, pointing and shouting excitedly. The worshippers were pressing against the barricades, desperate to get closer to it. The cops were scrambling to contain the sudden swell of people. The news cameras were rolling, the field reporters rubbing the tiredness from their eyes and rambling on into their mikes.
Then it started to move.
Drifting, slowly, silently. Floating sideways, away from Darby’s house. Gliding over the trees, heading east, over a neighboring house, toward the country club.
And opening a floodgate of pandemonium.
The crowd broke out and went after it. The sudden shift in their momentum caught the cops by surprise and outflanked them. The barricades toppled over, breached by a wave of hysterical believers who streamed through the trees, chasing the shimmering apparition. Police radios crackled sharply and footfalls crunched heavily as the cops and the security guards raced off to try and control the invading horde.
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