Sons of Fortune (50 page)

“I
don’t have the authority to stop you,” said the chief, “but maybe Mrs.
Davenport can spell out the consequences.”

“I
don’t want you to go in there,” said Annie.

“You
always think the best of everyone, and bullets aren’t that discriminating.”

“I
wonder how you’d feel if Lucy was one of the children trapped in
there?
”

Annie
was about to reply when the phone rang again.

“Are
you on your way, Senator, or do you need a body to help you make up your mind?”

“No,
no,” said Fletcher, “I’m on my way.” The phone went dead.

“Now
listen carefully,” said the chief, “I can cover you while you’re in the open,
but you’re on your own once you’re in that classroom.” Fletcher nodded and then
took Annie in his arms, holding her for several seconds.

The
chief accompanied him along the corridor.

“I’m
going to phone the classroom every five minutes. If you get a chance to talk, I’ll
tell you everything that’s happening on our end.
Whenever I
ask a question, just answer yes or no.
Don’t give Bates any clues as to
what I’m trying to find out.” Fletcher nodded. When they reached the door, the
chief removed his cigar. “Let me take your jacket, Senator.” Fletcher looked
surprised. “If you’re not concealing a gun, why give Bates any reason to
believe you might be?” Fletcher smiled as Culver held the door open for him. “I
didn’t vote for you last time, Senator, but if you get out alive, I just might
consider it next time. Sorry,” he added, “just my warped sense of humor. Good
luck.”

Fletcher
stepped out onto the playground and began to walk slowly down the path toward the
main classroom building. He could no longer spot any of the sharpshooters, but
he sensed that they weren’t far away. Although he couldn’t see the TV crews, he
could hear their tense chatter as he stepped into the light of their massive
arc lamps. The path that led to the classrooms couldn’t have been more than a
hundred yards. To Fletcher it felt like walking a mile-long tightrope in the
blazing sun.

Once
he’d reached the other side of the playground he climbed the four steps to the
entrance. He entered a dark, empty corridor and waited until his eyes became
accustomed to the gloom. When he reached a door stenciled with the words Miss
Hudson in ten different colors, he knocked quietly. The door was immediately
yanked open.

Fletcher
stepped inside to hear the door slam behind him. When he heard the muffled
sobbing, Fletcher glanced across to see a group of children huddled on the
floor in one corner.

“Sit
there,” commanded Bates, who looked as nervous as Fletcher felt. Fletcher
squeezed into a desk built for a nine-year-old on the end of the front row. He
looked up at the disheveled man, whose ill-fitting jeans were torn and dirty.

A
paunch hung over his waistline, despite the fact that he couldn’t have been
more than forty. He watched carefully as Bates crossed the room and stood
behind Miss Hudson, who remained seated at her table in the front of the class.
Bates held the gun in his right hand, while placing his left arm on her
shoulder.

“What’s
happening out there?” he shouted, “what’s the chief up to?”

“He’s
waiting to hear from me,” said Fletcher in a quiet voice. “He’s going to phone
in every five minutes. He’s worried about the children. You’ve managed to
convince everyone out there you’re a killer.”

“I’m
no killer,” said Bates. “You know that.”

“Perhaps
I do,”
said
Fletcher, “but they might be more
convinced if you were to release the children.”

“If
I do that, then I won’t have anything to bargain with.”

“You’ll
have me,” said Fletcher. “Kill a child, Billy, and everyone will remember you
for the rest of their lives; kill a senator, and they’ll have forgotten by
tomorrow.”

“Whatever
I do, I’m a dead man.”

“Not
if we were to face the cameras together.”

“But
what would we tell them?”

“That
you’ve already been to see me twice, and you’d put forward some sensible and
imaginative ideas on gun control but no one took any notice.

Well,
now they’re going to have to sit up and listen, because you’re going to be
given the chance to speak to Sandra Mitchell on prime-time news.”

“Sandra
Mitchell? Is she out there?”

“Sure
is,” replied Fletcher, “and she’s desperate to interview you.”

“Do
you think she’d be interested in me, Mr. Davenport?”

“She
hasn’t come all this way to talk to anyone else,” said Fletcher.

“Will
you stay with me?” asked Bates.

“You
bet, Billy. You know exactly where I stand on gun control. When we last met you
told me you had read all of my speeches on the subject.”

“Yes
I have, but what good did that do?” asked Billy. He took his arm off Mary
Hudson’s shoulder and began walking slowly toward Fletcher, the gun pointed
directly at him. “The truth is that you’re only repeating exactly what the
chief has told you to say.”

Fletcher
gripped the sides of the desk, never taking his eyes off Billy. If he was going
to risk it, he knew he needed to draw Billy in as close as possible. He leaned
forward slightly while still holding firmly to the lid of the desk. The phone
by Miss Hudson began ringing. Billy was now only a pace away, but the ringing
sound caused him to turn his head for a split second. This gave Fletcher the
chance to jerk the lid of the desk up in a sudden movement, crashing it into
Billy’s right hand.

Billy
momentarily lost his balance, and as he stumbled, he dropped the gun. They both
watched it hurtle across the floor, coming to a halt just a few feet away from
Miss Hudson. The children began to scream as she fell on her knees, grabbed the
gun and pointed it straight at Billy.

Billy
rose slowly and advanced toward her as she remained kneeling on the floor, the
gun pointing at his chest. “You’re not going to pull the trigger, are you, Miss
Hudson?”

With
each step Billy took toward her, Miss Hudson trembled more and more violently.
Billy was only a foot away from her when she closed her eyes and pulled the
trigger. There was a click. Billy looked up, smiled, and said, “No bullets,
Miss Hudson. I never intended to kill
anyone,
I just
wanted someone to listen for a change.”

Fletcher
slid out from behind the desk, ran to the door and yanked it open. “Out, out,”
he yelled, his right hand gesturing in a sweeping movement at the terrified
children. A tall girl with long pigtails stood up and ran toward the open door
and out into the corridor. Two more followed closely behind her.

Fletcher
thought he heard a piping voice say “Go, go,” as he held the door open. All but
one of the children came rushing toward him, disappearing out of sight within
moments. Fletcher stared toward the corner at the one remaining child. The boy
slowly rose from his place and walked to the front of the class. He leaned
down, took Miss Hudson by the hand, and led her toward the door, never once
looking at Billy. When he reached the open door, he said, “Thank you, Senator,”
and accompanied his teacher out into the corridor.

A
loud cheer went up as the tall girl with long black pigtails came charging
through the front door. Searchlights beamed down on her and she quickly placed
a hand over her eyes, unable to see the welcoming crowd. A mother broke through
the cordon and ran across the playground to take the girl in her arms. Two boys
followed closely behind, as Nat placed an arm around Su Ling’s shoulder,
desperately searching for Luke. A few moments later, a larger group came
running out of the door, but Su Ling couldn’t hold back the tears once she
realized Luke was not among them.

“There’s
still one more to come,” she heard a journalist reporting on the early evening
news, “along with his teacher.”

Su
Ling’s eyes never left the open door for what she later described as the
longest two minutes of her life.

An
even bigger cheer went up when Miss Hudson appeared in the doorway clutching
Luke’s hand. Su Ling looked up at her husband, who was vainly attempting to
hold back the tears.

“What
is it with you
Cartwrights
,” she said, “that you
always have to be the last out?”

Fletcher
remained by the door until Miss Hudson was out of sight. He then closed it
slowly, and walked across to pick up the insistent phone.

“Is
that you, Senator?” demanded the chief.

“Yes.”

“Are
you OK? We thought we heard a crash, maybe even a shot.”

“No,
I’m just fine. Are all the children safe?”

“Yes,
we’ve got all thirty-one of them,” said the chief.

“Including
the last one?”

“Yes,
he’s just joined his parents.”

“And Miss Hudson?”

“She’s
talking to Sandra Mitchell on Eyewitness News.

She’s
telling everyone that you’re some kind of hero.”

“I
think she’s talking about someone else,” said Fletcher.

“Are
you and Bates planning to join us sometime?” asked the chief, assuming he was
just being modest.

“Give
me a few more minutes, Chief. By the way, I’ve agreed that Billy can also talk
to Sandra Mitchell.”

“Who’s
got the gun?”

“I
have,” said Fletcher. “Billy won’t be causing you any more trouble. The gun
wasn’t even loaded,” he added, before putting the phone down.

“You
know they’re going to kill me, don’t you, Senator?”

“No
one’s going to kill you, Billy, not as long as I’m with you.”

“Do
I have your word on that, Mr. Davenport?”

“You
have my word on it, Billy. So let’s go out and face them together.”

Fletcher
opened the classroom door. He didn’t need to search for a light switch as there
were so many megawatts beaming in from the playground that he could clearly see
the door at the far end of the passage.

He
and Billy walked down the corridor together without a word passing between
them. When they reached the main door that led onto the playground, Fletcher
opened it tentatively and stepped into a beam of light, to be greeted by
another huge cheer from the crowd.

But
he couldn’t see their faces.

“It’s
going to be all right, Billy,” said Fletcher, turning back toward him. Billy
hesitated for a moment, but finally took a tentative step forward and stood by
Fletcher’s side. They walked slowly down the path together. He turned and saw
Billy smile. “It’s going to be all right,”

Fletcher
repeated, just as the bullet ripped through Billy’s chest. The sheer impact
threw Fletcher to one side.

Fletcher
pushed himself up off his knees and leaped on top of Billy, but it was too
late. He was already dead.

“No,
no, no,” Fletcher screamed.

“Didn’t
they realize that I gave him my word?”

“SOMEONE
is buying our shares,” said Nat.

“I
do hope so,” said Tom, “we are, after all, a public company.”

“No,
chairman, I mean that someone is aggressively buying them.”

“For
what purpose?” asked
Julia.

Nat
put down his pen. “To try and take us over would be my bet.” Several of the
board began to speak at once, until Tom tapped the table.

“Let’s
hear Nat out.”

“For
some years now, our policy has been to buy up small ailing banks and add them
to our portfolio, and overall that has proved a worthwhile enterprise. All of
you know my long-term strategy is to make Russell’s the largest banking
presence in the state. What I hadn’t planned for was that our success would, in
turn, make us attractive to an even larger institution.”

“And
you’re convinced someone is now trying to take us over?”

“I
most certainly am, Julia,” said Nat, “and you’re partly to blame. The most
recent phase of the Cedar Wood project has been such a massive success that our
overall profits nearly doubled last year.”

“If
Nat is right,” said Tom, “and I suspect he is, there’s only one question that
needs to be answered. Are we happy to be taken over or do we want to put up a
fight?”

“I
can only speak for myself, chairman,” said Nat, “but I’m not yet forty and I
certainly wasn’t planning on early retirement. I suggest we have no choice but
to fight.”

“I
agree,” said Julia, “I’ve been taken over once already, and I’m not going to
let it happen a second time. In any case, our shareholders will not expect us
to roll over.”

“Not
to mention one or two of the past chairmen,” said Tom, looking up at the
paintings of his father, grandfather and great-grandfather staring down at him
from the surrounding walls. “I don’t think we need to vote on this,” continued
Tom, “so why don’t you take us through the options, Nat.”

The
chief executive opened one of the three files on the table in front of him.