who snuck up behind you and threw you off roofs—the thought made him shudder.
He checked the remote control unit again. Felt satisfied that he hadn’t missed any connections, then set it aside and checked his watch. Less than three hours to go. Even though it would have been really useful to scan the surrounding areas, they’d decided not to use the skycam before the sign came up. It was too risky. They didn’t want some overexcited pilgrim or the cops—or Drucker’s men for that matter—to blast it out of the sky. Instead, he and Rydell were going to recon the area around the stadium on foot, doing opposite sweeps from the edge of the parking lots, until it got dark.
He looked around. It wouldn’t be easy. The lot was heaving with cars and people, huddled against the soaring wall of the stadium. Dalton shrugged, tried to get the image of Finch being shoved off the roof out of his mind, and set out to begin his search.
KEENAN DRUCKER GLANCED at his watch. Two hours to go. He frowned. Things weren’t going well. Not well at all.
Losing Rydell was a huge blow. Drucker hated being in that position. Right now, he couldn’t read the man’s state of mind. There had been too many upheavals. Rydell had to be unhinged, and unhinged meant unpredictable or, worse, irrational. Would he act impulsively and bring the whole thing down on them all, even if it destroyed him in the process? Or would he retreat and regroup and try to come up with a way out that kept him in the clear?
Drucker wasn’t sure. He hoped it would be the latter. That would also give him time to regroup. Time to come up with an alternative. Because right now, he needed one.
He frowned, his eyes burning into the framed portrait of his son that stared back at him from the edge of his desk. He felt like he was failing him. Failing his memory, failing to make up for his pointless death.
I won’t fail you this time, he insisted inwardly, his fists clenching tightly, choking the blood out of them and turning them a deathly shade of white.
“We might need to bring our plans forward,” Maddox’s voice prompted him from his speakerphone. The soldier sounded bleak, defeated. Not a tone of voice he was used to hearing from him.
“We can’t do that,” Drucker grumbled. “Not with Rydell running around out there. Any sign of his daughter?”
“No,” Maddox said. “The plane dropped her off in L.A. She’s not using her cell or her credit cards. She’s out of play for the time being.”
Drucker sighed. “They’ll go for the brother. That’s all Sherwood cares about. Are you all set for that?”
Maddox just said, “We’re ready.”
“Then finish it,” Drucker ordered him, and hung up.
Chapter 75
Afternoon turned to evening as the sky overhead went from bright blue to a soft pink and the clocks skipped past five o’clock. Matt and Gracie still hadn’t found anything. They’d worked their way down from the top of the stadium without success. The show was about to start, and they still had a lot of ground to cover.
Checking out the suites wasn’t easy. For this unscheduled event, all the seating in the stadium was free—except for the suites. Matt and Gracie quickly found out that most of those had been allocated to Darby’s personal guests, some to the media, and the remainder to the guests of the other preachers that Darby had invited to share the stage with him. Access to the suites sections was restricted and tightly controlled by beefy security guys in black sweatshirts who knew all the scams. Still, Gracie managed to get into both banks of suites on the fourth and club levels by charming some bona fide invitees and tagging along with them, dragging Matt with her. They swept through them, all forty-five suites in each bank, on the lookout for any high-tech gear or for men who didn’t look like they were there for a spiritual experience. They didn’t find either.
They had just cleared the first bank of suites on the club level when the music faded down and the lights dimmed. Everyone pushed forward for a closer view. Matt and Gracie edged closer. A chorus of voices rose on the overhead speakers and the reverend’s hundred-member choir filed onto the stage, taking up their positions solemnly as they sang “Let There Be Light.” The crowd erupted wildly, clapping and cheering before joining in. The effect was