"Would you like to look at them?" Trumann asked.
"Can I?" he asked, suddenly friendly to Trumann.
"Sure." Trumann stood and placed a hand on Mark's shoulder. They walked slowly across the gleaming concrete, the sounds of Trumann's steps echoing upward. They stopped in front of the black jet. "Now, this is a Learjet," Trumann began.
Reggie and K. O. Lewis left the small office with tall cups of steaming coffee. The agents who'd escorted them had slipped into the shadows of the hangar. They sipped what must've been their tenth cup of this long morning, and watched as Trumann and the kid inspected the jets.
"He's a brave kid," Lewis said.
"He's remarkable," Reggie said. "At times he thinks like a terrorist, then he cries like a little child." "He is a child." "I know. But don't tell him. It may upset him, and, hell, who knows what he might do." She took a long sip. "Truly remarkable." K. O. blew into his cup, then took a tiny sip. "We've pulled some strings. There's a room waiting for Ricky at-Grant's Clinic in Phoenix. We need to know if that's the destination. The pilot called five minutes ago. He has to get clearance, file a flight plan, you know." "Phoenix it is. Complete confidentiality, okay? Register the kid under another name. Same for the mother and Mark. Keep some of your boys nearby. I want you to pay for his doctor's trip out there and for a few days of work." "No problem. The people in Phoenix have no idea what's coming. Have you guys talked about a permanent home?" "A little, not much. Mark says he wants to live in the mountains."-"Vancouver's nice. We vacationed there last summer. Absolutely gorgeous." "Out of the country?" "No problem. Director Voyles said they can go anywhere. We've placed a few witnesses outside the States, and I think the Sways are perfect candidates. These people will be taken care of, Reggie. You have my word." The man in the orange shirt joined Mark and Trumann, and was now in charge of the tour. He lowered the steps to the black Lear, and the three disappeared inside.
"I must confess," Lewis said after he swallowed another scalding dose of coffee, "I was never convinced the kid knew." "Clifford told him everything. He knew exactly where it was." "Did you?" "No. Not until yesterday. When he first came to my office, he told me that he knew, but he didn't tell me where it was. Thank God for that. He kept it to himself until we were near the body yesterday afternoon." "Why'd you come here? Seems awfully risky." Reggie nodded at the jets. "You'll have to ask him. He insisted we find the body. If Clifford lied to him, then he figured he was off the hook." "And so you just drove down here and looked for the body? Just like that?" "It was a bit more involved. It's a long story, K. O., and I'll give you all the details over a long dinner." "I can't wait." Mark's small head was now in the cockpit, and Reggie half expected the engines to start, the plane to taxi slowly from the hangar, out onto the runway, and Mark to dazzle them with a perfect takeoff. She knew he could do it.
"Are you concerned about your own safety?" Lewis asked.
"Not really. I'm just a humble lawyer. What would they gain by coming after me?"-"Retribution. You don't understand the way they think." "Indeed I don't." "Director Voyles would like us to stick close for a few months, at least until the trial is over." "I don't care what you do,, I just don't want to see anyone who's watching me, okay?" "Fine. We have ways." The tour moved to the second jet, a silver Citation, and for the moment Mark Sway had forgotten about dead bodies and bad guys lurking in shadows. The steps came down, and he climbed aboard with Trumann in tow.
An agent with a radio walked to Reggie and Lewis, and said, "They're on final approach." They followed him to the opening of the hangar near the cars. A minute later Mark and Trumann joined them, and as they watched the sky to the north a tiny plane appeared.
"That's them," Lewis said. Mark inched his way next to Reggie and took her hand. The plane grew larger as it approached the runway. It, too, was black, but much larger than the jets in the hangar. Agents, some in suits and some in jeans, began moving around as the plane taxied to them. It stopped a hundred feet away, and the engines died. A full minute passed before the door opened and the stairs hit the ground.
Jason McThune trotted down first, and when he stepped onto the tarmac a dozen FBI agents had the plane surrounded. Dianne and Glint were next. They joined McThune, and together the three walked briskly toward the hangar.
Mark released Reggie's hand and ran to meet his mother. Dianne grabbed and hugged him, and for an awkward second or two everyone else eitner or looked at the terminal in the distance.
They said nothing as they embraced. He squeezed her tightly around the neck, and finally said, through tears, "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry." She clutched his head and pressed it to her shoulder, and at the same time thought of strangling him and of never letting go.
REGGIE LED THEM INTO THE SMALL BUT CLEAN OFFICE, AND offered Dianne coffee. She declined. Trumann, Mc-Thune, Lewis, and the gang waited nervously outside the door. Trumann, especially, was anxious. What if they changed their minds? What if Muldanno got the body? What if? He paced and fidgeted, glanced at the locked door, asked Lewis a hundred questions. Lewis sipped coffee and tried to remain calm. It was now twenty minutes before eight. The sun was bright, the air humid.
Mark sat in his mother's lap, and Reggie, the lawyer, sat behind the desk. Glint stood by the door.
"I'm glad you came," Reggie said to Dianne.
"I didn't have much of a choice." "You do now. You can change your mind if you want. You can ask me anything." "Do you realize how fast all this is happening, Reggie? Six days ago, I came home and found Ricky curled in his bed sucking his thumb. Then Mark and the cop showed up. Now I'm being asked to become someone else and run away to another world. My God." "I understand," Reggie said. "But we can't stop things." "Are you mad at me, Mom?" he asked.
"Yeah. No cookies for a week." She stroked his hair. There was a long pause.
"How's Ricky?" Reggie asked.
"About the same. Dr. Greenway is trying to bring him around so he can enjoy the plane ride. But they had to drug him slightly when we left the hospital." "I'm not going back to Memphis, Mom," Mark said.
"The FBI has contacted a children's psychiatric hospital in Phoenix, and they're waiting for you now," Reggie explained., "It's a good one. Glint checked it out Friday. It's been highly recommended." "So we're going to live in Phoenix?" Dianne asked.
"Only until Ricky is released. Then you go wherever you want. Canada. Australia. New Zealand. It's up to you. Or you can stay in Phoenix." "Let's go to Australia, Mom. They still have real cowboys down there. Saw it in a movie once." "No more movies for you, Mark," Dianne said, still rubbing his head. "We wouldn't be here if you hadn't watched so many movies." "What about TV?" "No. From now on, you'll do nothing but read books." The office was silent for a long time. Reggie had nothing else to say. Glint was dead tired and,about to fall asleep on his feet. Dianne's mind was moving clearly now, for the first time in a week. Frightened as she was, she had escaped the dungeon at St. Peter's. She had seen sunlight and smelled real air. She was holding her lost son, and the other one would improve. All these people were trying to help. The lamp factory was history. Employment was now a thing of the past. No more cheap trailers. No more worries about past due child support and unpaid bills. She could watch the boys grow up. She could join the PTA. She could buy some clothes and do her nails. Good gosh, she was only thirty years old. With a little effort and a little money, she could be attractive again. There were men out there.