taking part in it—I wobble on my feet. “I noticed you have some security out there.”
“My idea,” Nadine says from beside me.
“That guy didn’t look like any church security guard.”
Aaron chuckles. “Hey, man, just ’cause I grew up in the church don’t mean I don’t know some brothers from the other side of the street. We got somebody riding shotgun with Ben, too.”
Nadine says, “Is anybody using those army cots you found earlier? Marshall’s hit a wall.”
“I see that. They’re all free right now. Got three set up in the back corner over there. Two more on the other side. We keep the boys separated from the girls when they lay down. On my watch, anyway.”
“You going to be able to get that front page printed?” I ask.
Aaron smiles. “You’re kidding, right?” He walks to the linotype, reaches down to a stack of paper on the floor, then brings back an eleven-by-seventeen sheet of paper. “We had some trouble with the Heidelberg. Had to use the old ABDick.”
He hands me the page, which is topped by a beautifully printed version of the original Watchman masthead, with the eagle and the banner in its beak. Vincit Omnia Veritas. Below the masthead runs a series of large headlines with brief descriptions of the stories to be found within what will be the most unusual edition of our paper ever printed. poker club rife with corruption? blares the first. photo puts holland at likely murder scene with victim, announces the second, in smaller type. real estate scam defrauds homeowners, reads the third. Then comes bones discovered on mill site. Beneath that in smaller type are the words: “New Artifacts Support Dr. Ferris’s Theory. MDAH Must Investigate.”
“Truth conquers all,” I say softly, looking at the eagle again. “Thanks for this, Aaron.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m glad to give Duncan something to smile about.”
“You’re going to do more than that. The Poker Club’s going to go to war. I’m glad you’ve got that security here.”
“We’ll be all right. Problem is our max size on the jobbing press was eleven by seventeen. It’s a long way from perfect, but the kids are folding it around the main edition and then rubber-banding it. They takin’ a break now, but they work fast. They been foldin’ five hundred copies an hour per person.”
“Wow. Well, we can live with the size difference. Wake me if you need me, or if Ben says get me up.”
Gabriel Terrell laughs and walks up behind his brother. “Ben? That boy passed out an hour ago.”
“Well, he did a good job.”
“Look now,” Aaron says, “ain’t no blankets on them cots.”
“We’ll make do,” Nadine tells him.
She leads me through the antique machines to a couple of Korean War–vintage army cots set up side by side against the wall. Three feet away stands a fifty-five-gallon drum with an Evinrude outboard motor bolted inside it. The prop has probably rusted to powder by now. Beyond the motor stands another cot with Ben Tate sprawled across it, snoring up at the rafters.
“Lie down,” Nadine says, laughing softly. “I’ll take the one on the outside.”
The voices of the choir fade into empty silence. Then a soft tenor voice begins singing “Hey Ya!” by OutKast. Other singers mimic instruments beneath the vocal, filling the barn with sounds not quite like any I’ve ever heard.
“You’re about to fall down,” Nadine says, taking hold of my upper arms and easing me down onto a cot.
“What about tomorrow?” I ask, curling into the barn wall. “The meeting with the Poker Club?”
“We’ll deal with that tomorrow. I’ve got a little treat you can take with you. A silver bullet.”
“What’s that?” I ask, my eyes already closed.
“A recording of Claude Buckman waxing poetic about committing treason with China. It was so damning that I made a recording to keep with me, separate from what’s in the safe-deposit box. Fifteen seconds of it was enough to get you out of jail.”
“Awesome,” I mutter, not even sure what she’s talking about.
A moment later I feel her drop something soft and heavy on top of me, and that sends me over the edge into oblivion.
Chapter 45
At 7:55 a.m. I walk out of the elevator on the second floor of the Bienville Southern Bank. As thankful as I was for that army cot, I’m still shaky from sleep deprivation. I’m also a little nervous. Before going into the conference room, I duck into the men’s room to take a leak. While I’m standing at the sink washing my hands, the door