The Sign - By Raymond Khoury Page 0,175

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 chants 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

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