Tim considered, then looked at Luke. “What do you think?”
“He’s telling the truth,” Luke said. “He’d have to hop down the stairs, and they’re steep. He might fall.”
“I shouldn’t have been here in the first place,” Dr. Evans said. A fat tear squeezed from one of his eyes. “I’m a medical man!”
“You’re a medical monster,” Luke said. “You watched kids almost drown—they thought they were drowning—and you took notes. There were kids who died because they had a fatal reaction to the shots you and Hendricks gave them. And those who lived really aren’t living at all, are they? Tell you what, I’d like to step on your foot. Grind my heel right into it.”
“No!” Evans squealed. He shrank back in his seat and dragged his swollen foot behind the good one.
“Luke,” Tim said.
“Don’t worry,” Luke said. “I want to but I won’t. Doing that would make me like him.” He looked at Mrs. Sigsby. “You don’t get any choice. Get up and go down those stairs.”
Mrs. Sigsby tugged on the Paper Industries cap and rose from her seat with such dignity as she could manage. Luke started to fall in behind her, but Tim held him back. “You’re behind me. Because you’re the important one.”
Luke didn’t argue.
Mrs. Sigsby stood at the stop of the air-stairs and raised her hands over her head. “It’s Mrs. Sigsby! If anyone is out there, hold your fire!”
Luke caught Tim’s thought clearly: Not as sure as she claimed.
There was no response; no outside sound but the crickets, no inside sound except the faint hum. Mrs. Sigsby made her way slowly down the stairs, holding onto the railing and favoring her bad leg.
Tim knocked on the cockpit door with the butt of the Glock. “Thank you, gentlemen. It was a good flight. You have one passenger still onboard. Take him wherever you want.”
“Take him to hell,” Luke said. “Single fare, no return.”
Tim started down the steps, bracing for a possible gunshot—he hadn’t anticipated her calling out and identifying herself. He should have, of course. In the event, no gunshot came.
“Front passenger seat,” Tim said to Mrs. Sigsby. “Luke, you get in behind her. I’ll have the gun, but you’re my backup. If she tries to make a move on me, use some of your mental juju. Got it?”
“Yes,” Luke said, and got in back.
Mrs. Sigsby sat down and fastened her seatbelt. When she reached to close the door, Tim shook his head. “Not yet.” He stood with one hand on the open door and called Wendy, safe in her room at the Beaufort Econo Lodge.
“The Eagle has landed.”
“Are you all right?” The connection was good; she could have been standing next to him. He wished she was, then remembered where they were going.
“Fine so far. Stand by. I’ll call you when it’s over.”
If I can, he thought.
Tim walked around to the driver’s side and got in. The key was in the cup holder. He nodded to Mrs. Sigsby. “Now you can close the door.”
She did, looked at him disdainfully, and said what Luke had been thinking. “You look remarkably stupid with your hat on that way, Mr. Jamieson.”
“What can I say, I’m an Eminem fan. Now shut up.”
14
In the darkened Maine Paper Industries arrival building, a man knelt by the windows, watching as the Suburban’s lights came on and it started rolling toward the gate, which stood open. Irwin Mollison, an unemployed millworker, was one of the Institute’s many Dennison River Bend stringers. Stackhouse could have ordered Ron Church to stay, but knew from experience that issuing an order to a man who might choose to disobey it was a bad idea. Better to use a stooge who only wanted to make a few extra dollars.
Mollison called a number pre-programmed into his cell. “They’re on their way,” he said. “A man, a woman, and a boy. The woman’s wearing a cap over her hair, couldn’t make out her face, but she stood in the doorway of the plane and yelled out her name. Mrs. Sigsby. Man’s also wearing a cap, but turned around backward. The boy’s the one you’re looking for. Got a bandage on his ear and a hell of a bruise on the side of his face.”
“Good,” Stackhouse said. He had already gotten a call from the Challenger’s co-pilot, who told him Dr. Evans had stayed on the plane. Which was fine.
So far, everything was fine . . . or as fine as it could be, under the circumstances. The bus