The Crash of Hennington (49 page)

—Really, Kevin, you
must
go. You have to get to safety.

—And leave you and Albert here alone? I don’t think so. Besides, this is probably the safest building in the city, right?

—I can’t guarantee that.

—Then you should leave as well.

—I have to stay. I’m the Mayor.

—And Albert?

—Albert’s my husband.

—Ah, the Mayor’s husband. Which would make me the Mayor’s what?

—Kevin, it’s
because
I care for you that I’m asking you to leave.

—I understand your concern, Cora, but perhaps
you’ve
misunderstood
mine.
When you asked me into your lives, I knew what I was accepting. A place at your sides. A place here. Where I’m not leaving, anymore than you would leave Albert or he would leave you. Now, when it counts, believe that. The three of us is not a made-up thing. It’s real, but it needs your faith in it to work.

Cora’s smile was anxious, worried, but a smile nonetheless.

—So be it, Kevin. So be it all.

—That’s what I like to hear.

—Now then, what’s taking the third prong in our triangle so long?

City Hall was mostly empty because of the holiday, but Cora sent home the few who had trickled in, keeping only the security detail that guarded the building twenty-four hours a day anyway. Albert had gone off to see if there was any word from them. Max and Talon had left the premises an hour before, heading for the home of a distant cousin who lived out
past Hennington’s eastern border. Fires continued popping up on a vague path towards City Hall, though the progression was not often clear. Occasional pillars of smoke erupted from points to the far left and right of the main line. From the south-facing windows they could see spots of activity scattered throughout the city. They had also begun to see people filling the streets, sometimes marching in bands lighting fires, sometimes in groups running away in whatever direction they could. Sirens had been heard at last, but too few to assuage the feeling that there just weren’t enough to handle a fire that was quickly reaching apocalyptic proportions. Cora took Kevin’s hand as they watched the city burn behind the huge windows of her office.

—It’s going from bad to worse, isn’t it?

Albert burst through the office doors. He turned and bolted them shut. He spoke to Cora and Kevin while dragging a chair to bar the doors further.

—We’re in trouble.

—How bad?

—They’ve surrounded the building.

—Who are ‘they'?

—The rioters. Whoever is responsible.

—Are they breaking in?

—They’re trying.

—What about security? Can they fend them off?

Albert’s face was long and stern. He took Cora’s free hand and put an arm on Kevin, the three now a circle.

—They killed one of the guards.

—What?

—The rest were being overpowered.

—My God.

—We’re in danger. No mistake.

—Is there a way out?

—I don’t think so. I think the whole building is cut off.

—How can this be happening? And so quickly?

—And from where?

A pounding at the door interrupted them.

—Shit.

—This wing goes up an extra floor above the rest of the building. If we can get up to the top, we can get out the side windows and go across the roof. The multi-story car park is on the other side. Is that where you parked, Albert?

—Yes.

—We might have to plow our way out, which is horrible but better than walking.

There was another loud thud at the door. They could hear shouting voices, too. The pounding became rhythmic as whoever it was beyond the doors began the inexorable process of beating them down. Kevin looked at them both.

—How far up is it?

—Three floors.

—Three floors, then across the roof and down through three floors of car park?

—Yes, I know it sounds risky—

—We’ll never make it.

—We will if we leave right now.

—No, listen. You two go. I’ll stay here and try and delay the mob.

—What?! No! Kevin—

—If they think I’m the only one here, they may not chase after you. If not, I can at least give you a little more time. Now, go, both of you, go!

—What about staying by our side? Kevin—

—I love you both. I do, and maybe this is the reason I’m here. Whatever happens remember that. If I’m meant to come
out of this, I will. If we’re meant to be together again, we will be. Now, go!

—No, you have to come—

—You must—

A splintering of wood cracked from the door. The frame bulged.

—If they see you, there’s no point to this. Go!

He pushed them back towards the rear exit of Cora’s office. He kissed Cora hard on the lips and did the same to Albert.

—It’s the only way. You have to go.

—Kevin—

—You know I’m right. Trust me in this as in anything. Go.

They each hung onto him, fighting the decision until it seemed inevitable.

—We love you, you know.

—I know.

Albert brought his arm around Cora, and they turned and ran up the back stairs. They were two flights up when the mob burst in and were fortunate enough not to see Kevin die, yet they each sensed in their own way what happened, and if grief and fear can co-exist in the frenzied moments of flight, then they were each at least grateful not to be carrying that double burden alone.

107. Father and Son.

Alone in the elevator as it rocketed up towards his father’s office, Thomas Banyon realized that he hadn’t been inside this building for more than five years. Such was the way life went, he thought. He didn’t know that Archie had sold Banyon Enterprises to Jon Noth, but he had long since ceased
looking at the corporate offices with anything like a proprietorial eye. Luther had been the heir-apparent for so long that now, even after his death – which was a certainty after what Thomas had found out this morning – he had very little doubt that Archie would find someone else to run it. Someone besides Thomas, that is. Come to that, the old man would probably find a way to lengthen his life and run it himself.

Thomas patted the pockets of his sports jacket unsuccessfully looking for a cigarillo. No matter, there were some in the car. His calm state of mind belied the events happening outside only because he had some wonderful other matters to occupy him. He had seen the smoke rising from the Arboretum when he left Hennington Hills that morning but had registered only the thought, Must be a fire, before pushing it aside for the more pressing matters at hand. First, a rare trip to Banyon Enterprises to tell Archie that Peter Wickham, along with Luther’s body, had been spotted by a now former employee of Paul Wadstone’s security detail who had been forced to fight his way out of a locked trunk to report the sighting, and then Thomas also wanted to break it nicely to the old man that he preferred that Archie kept away from tonight’s planned victory party when Thomas won the Mayor’s race. Sure it might be nice to have family there, but how much family was Archie really? Besides, he’d been so glum lately that he would just bring the rest of the crowd down anyway, especially after having Luther’s death confirmed.

The second and far more important matter of the morning was the imminent return of one Jacki Strell to the entertainment roster. Thomas looked at his watch as the elevator doors opened into Archie’s penthouse office. She had most likely arrived back at Hennington Hills safe and sound by now. All the more reason to keep this meeting with Archie as brief as
possible. It would be good to see Jacki again. So many questions to ask, so many things to say. Thomas’ cock stirred in his pants, twisting a sprig of pubic hair painfully. He readjusted himself in the deserted reception area. Yes, it would be nice to fuck her, wouldn’t it? He let the thought run for a moment, absently caressing his crotch. Maybe things could work out between the two of them, maybe he could make her see things clearly after all. She obviously wasn’t happy or she wouldn’t have run away. Maybe he could –

He suddenly noticed how quiet the penthouse office was. It was a holiday, sure, but shouldn’t Jules have been here? Or someone, anyone? He had never known Archie to do
anything
without an assistant around to take care of the particulars. Come to think of it, that’s exactly what Thomas was doing in the search for Peter Wickham. Thomas smiled sourly in the vast, empty hall. Never mind. Thomas would be Mayor soon and would no longer even be his father’s lackey.

—Archie?

His call disappeared in the dusty silence.

—Archie?

He began to feel annoyed. If that old man wasn’t here, after they had
specifically
arranged this meeting –

—Archie, are you here?

Thomas walked to the massive doors of Archie’s office and pushed one of them open. He saw Archie asleep in his chair at the far end of the long room.

—Hey, old man, wake up! The morning’s a-wasting. I’ve got news.

Archie didn’t move. His arms were draped carelessly over the sides of his chair. His chin was on his chest, and his head leaned sharply to one side. Thomas stopped a few feet away from Archie’s desk. He added up the evidence without even realizing it.

—Fuck.

He stepped around the desk and shoved two fingers onto Archie’s neck. Nothing. He slapped Archie’s face halfheartedly, not expecting it to do anything, and it didn’t. He put his hands on his hips and looked down at the body of his father. He felt himself grow very, very angry, very, very quickly.

—You fucking old shit. Now?
Now
is when you decide to go?

The room remained quiet except for a low hum of what must have been the air conditioning. It’s not working very well, thought Thomas. It’s hot as hell in here.

—Couldn’t stand to see your own blood son get the headlines, could you? Could you?

Thomas knew he was being irrational, but so what? He needed a smoke. He needed to see Jacki. He needed his fucking father not to be fucking dead, for fuck’s sake –

Wait a minute. Wait just a minute here. No one had seen him come in. From the looks of it, no one was going to be coming in themselves today, either. Thomas scratched his chin. No particular reason why the body of Archie Banyon couldn’t be found tomorrow, was there? Not until after Thomas’ victory was assured and reported, not until he could officially mourn as Mayor-Elect, not until Thomas got his moment of glory first. If someone else found him, well, so be it, but if Thomas just left, just scooted out quietly without disturbing anything, then maybe there was a chance. Thomas could even ‘discover’ the body on his own, propelling himself right to the front of the story. Yeah. That would be good. For his image and everything. He looked down at Archie. Tomorrow was only one more day. It wouldn’t matter at all, not one bit.

Thomas turned and walked briskly out of Archie’s office,
not looking back. He stepped through the reception hall and into the elevator that was still waiting for him. The doors closed and he plunged down through the building towards his waiting car.

In Archie’s office, there was a slight hum in the air, but it began to grow more and more faint, until after a time it hardly seemed there at all. A little while longer and there was only the silence of a dead body.

108. A Lover’s Hand, A Lover’s Breath.

—Jarvis?

—Yeah?

—Jarvis?

—What is it?

—I, I think—

Peter laced his fingers through Luther’s own. There was definitely pressure there, definitely a feeling. Luther was still sprawled across his lap in the back seat of Jarvis’ speeding car, and Peter had to bend awkwardly to put his head down on Luther’s chest.

—What’s going on?

—Shhh, just a second.

Peter tried to block out all the noise. It was difficult. The car jostled and squeaked, the wind rushed by the windows, the burning was so mammoth that the sounds of crackling filled the air, even in the moving car. He pressed his ear down as hard as he could against Luther. Amid all the clamor, there was silence for a moment. And then. And then.

—He’s alive.

—He’s what?

—He’s alive. I heard his heartbeat. Oh, my God. Oh, shit, oh, my God. He’s alive! He’s alive!

He tore at the bandages around Luther’s face, terrified and exhilarated. Impossible. Impossible. Gloriously, wonderfully impossible. He peeled off the cotton strips and wiped away the waxseed oil, uncovering Luther’s face. Peter leaned forward again. His ear touched Luther’s lips.

—Ha!

—What? What’s going on?

—He’s breathing!

Jarvis kept looking in the rearview mirror and turning round to see what was happening, all the while trying to keep the racing car steady. They weren’t out of danger yet. Fires were still springing up at odd intervals all around them. Jarvis had to keep avoiding the increasing numbers of both rioters and fleeing citizens as well as a number of people in cars with the same idea. He was surprised to feel annoyed. Here was the first honest-to-goodness miracle he was witness to in his entire life as a clergyman and he wasn’t able to see it because he had to keep his eyes on the road. Why were the mysteries of faith so inscrutable?

—Are you sure? Has he spoken?

—Not yet. Luther? Luther, can you hear me?

He kept pulling off bandages, freeing up Luther’s arms, giving his chest room to breathe. When he reached Luther’s waist, Peter realized that Luther was naked underneath the bandages. He paused but continued on. What could that possibly matter now? As he continued unwrapping him, he could feel Luther’s breath grow stronger and see his muscles move as the rest of his body returned to life. The last bandages fell away from Luther’s feet, and Peter embraced him, naked, pale, slippery from the waxseed oil, but alive. Alive alive alive. Peter brought his own face down again and kissed Luther on lips that tasted salty and dry but warm.

Luther opened his eyes. He made a sound as if to speak but coughed first.

—Take your time, Luther. Concentrate on waking up. Shit Almighty, I’m glad to see you!