I stop, and they stop with me. Necker has to look up at me, since I’m three inches taller, but I’m the one at a disadvantage.
‘I’m going to be straight with you, Penn,’ he says. ‘I want to bring my plant here. I want to buy that old factory there and recycle all the debris to show the town I mean business. There’s one obstacle in the way, though. This has been a union town since 1945. I used to be a big supporter of unions–belonged to one myself when I worked as a meat packer. But they got out of hand, and you see the result.’ He waves his hand at the abandoned battery plant.
It’s a little more complex than that, I think, but this doesn’t seem the time to argue U.S. trade policy.
‘Mississippi has a right-to-work law, and I plan to use that. But bottom line, I need to know one thing.’ A stubby red forefinger shoots up. ‘When push comes to shove on something–and it always does–am I gonna have your support? Are you going to be in office a year from now, when I need you? If I’m going to bring my plant down here, I need to know you’re going to be the man in charge. I can’t afford some yokel, and I can’t afford the other thing.’
Major McDavitt cuts his eyes at me. The other thing?
‘Don’t get the wrong idea,’ Necker says quickly. ‘I don’t care what color a man is, so long as he can tell red ink from black. But race politics gets in the way of business, and with your fifty-fifty split, I can foresee some problems. I figure you’re my best shot at solving those problems.’
‘You’re saying that if I answer yes to your question, you’ll bring your recycling plant here?’
‘That’s the deal, Mr Mayor.’
‘What makes you think I won’t be here in a year?’
Necker flashes a knowing smile. ‘For one thing, this is a detour from your main career. For another, I’ve heard you might not be too happy in the job.’
‘I won’t lie to you. It’s been wearing me down pretty fast. It’s tough to get everybody swinging on the same gate, as they say around here.’
Necker nods. ‘Politics in a nutshell. But my research also says you’re no quitter, and you’re as good as your word.’
Yesterday I might have confessed that I might not be here next October. But given my involvement with Tim, I’m not sure how to reply. ‘Can you give me a few days to answer you?’
‘How does two weeks sound?’
‘I’ll take it.’
Necker grins and starts to say something else, but his cell phone begins blaring what sounds like a college fight song. He holds up his hand, checks the screen, then with a grunt of apology marches away to take the call, leaving me staring out over the mile-broad Mississippi with Danny McDavitt. A mild breeze blows off the reddish brown water, and the pilot squints into it like a man measuring wind speed by watching waves.
‘What do you think about Necker?’ I ask, casually checking my cell phone for further messages. There are none.
‘Kinda pushy,’ McDavitt says after a considerable silence. ‘But they’re all like that.’
‘You fly a lot of CEOs?’
The pilot’s lips widen slightly in what might be a smile. ‘Not these days. I flew charters in Nashville after I got out of the air force. Don’t ask. At least this guy knows he puts his pants on same as the next guy.’
I look back toward the Triton Battery plant and see Necker speaking animatedly into his phone. ‘You think he’ll do what he says? You think he’ll bring his plant here?’
McDavitt spits on the rocks at the edge of the parking lot. ‘Yep.’ Then he turns toward me, and his blue-gray eyes catch mine with surprising force. ‘Question is, will you be here when he needs you?’
While I ask myself the same question, Necker suddenly appears beside me. ‘I’m afraid we’ve got to head back right away. I’ve got to make an unexpected stop on my way to Chicago.’
‘Chicago?’ This is the first I’ve heard about Chicago.
Necker leads us quickly back to the helicopter. ‘I thought you knew. I promised my granddaughter I’d watch her first dance recital. And now I have to make a stop in Paducah on the way.’
The selectmen will panic if Necker isn’t in town for the festival. ‘Are you coming back for the balloon race?’
The CEO grins. ‘Are you kidding? I can’t wait to see your face when the canopy starts flapping and the lines start creaking at three thousand feet. I’ll be back by dawn tomorrow.’ Necker turns to McDavitt. ‘Let’s get airborne, Major. And don’t waste any time getting back.’
McDavitt nods and climbs into the cockpit. As I clamber in behind him, I feel my cell phone vibrate on my hip. With Necker beside me, I almost ignore the message, assuming it must be Paul Labry asking how my sales pitch is going. But then I remember Tim’s text and decide to check it. This text is from the same number as before. Tilting the phone slightly away from Necker, I read, Tonight, bro. Same place, same time. Don’t respond 2 this message. No contact at all. And bring a gun, jic. Peace.
As I reread the message, the free-floating anxiety that has haunted me since last night suddenly coalesces into a leaden feeling of dread, as close to a premonition of disaster as anything I’ve felt before.
‘Everything copacetic?’ Necker asks from what seems a great distance.
‘Fine,’ I rasp, still staring at the message. ‘Just my daughter texting me from school.’
I grab for my seat as the chopper bucks into the air.
‘Easy, now,’ Necker says soothingly. ‘Sit back and enjoy it. Boy, what I’d give to still have my little girl at home. It goes by so damn fast, you miss most of it. It’s only later that you realize it. That you were in the presence of a miracle. You know?’
I nod dully. Bring a gun? Jic? Just in case? In case of what? I’d give anything to take back the encouragement I gave Tim to pursue evidence against Mr X and his employers. Yet somewhere beneath my panic surges the hope that Jessup, even after thirty years of drug abuse and aimlessness, has somehow proved able to do what he promised to do.
‘Don’t you miss a minute of it,’ Necker advises. ‘But, hell, what am I telling you? You had the sense to get out of the city and bring your kid to a place like this. A place where people are who they say they are, and you don’t have to worry about all the sick crap that goes on out there in the world.’
I flick my phone shut and force myself to nod again.
‘A goddamn sanctuary,’ Necker pronounces. ‘That’s what it is. Am I right?’
‘Absolutely.’
I guess I’m not above a little selling after all.
The hours after receiving Tim’s text message are an emotional seesaw for me; panic alternates with wild hope that Jessup has somehow obtained evidence of fraud and gotten safely away with it. This hope is a tacit admission that Tim’s allegations are neither exaggerations nor paranoid fantasies. The maddening thing is that I’ll have to wait until midnight to talk to him. I assume his choice of hour means that he intends to stay on board the Magnolia Queen until the end of his shift. Why doesn’t he