Gundown (38 page)

Gordon said, “So he calmed a crowd down—”

“He turned the promise into a living, healing thing!” Edith’s eyes glittered. “I have never witnessed anything like it.” She gazed at Al-Kadri. “Noah could have done it.”

Hoshi said, “I will always be ashamed of how I wanted to . . . kill that woman.” She shuddered, gazed out at the mountains, then straightened and faced them. Her chin lifted. “Then this man opened his soul to us and made the promise.”

Hank didn’t think of it that way. He’d just done what felt right.

Hoshi’s eyes moistened. “I’ll be forever grateful, Mr. Soldado. And I hereby nominate you as chairman of the Alliance, to take up the duties and responsibilities once held by Noah Stone.”

“Wa-a-a-i-t a minute,” Hank said.

Donovan and Benson chorused, “Second the motion.”

Edith smiled at them. “You’re not board members.” She leveled her gaze at Hank. “But I second the motion. Any discussion?”

Al-Kadri shook his head. “I do not believe.” He gazed at Hank.

Hank set his coffee mug down. “Damn right there’s discussion, and I’ll start it by saying I think you people are nuts.”

Donovan said, “We’re just doing what Noah would have wanted.”

Benson ceased pacing and settled next to Donovan. “Noah had such hope for you, Hank.”

With effort, Edith pushed up from her chair and came to Hank. She took his hand and tapped his Alliance ring. “You made the promise, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Mean it?”

“Yes, but—”

She said, “This is how you help the best you can.”

How could Hank make these people see? Maybe the truth would do it. “Look, I was sent here by a man who wanted Noah Stone gone.”

Edith said, “Do you mean dead?”

He thought about it. “No. But that was the result.”

Gordon said, “Aha!”

Benson said, “Yet you saved him. Twice.”

“Yeah, I did, but—”

Edith stepped closer. “Why?”

Why? He didn’t know. He shrugged.

The judge said again, “Why?”

She liked to put people on trial, didn’t she? “I don’t know,” he said.

She gazed at him, her dignity and strength undeniable. “That’s not good enough. You will tell me why.”

Hank searched inside himself. It burst from him. “It wasn’t right!”

Edith nodded. “A good start. But why was it wrong?”

She pinned him with her gaze. He dug deeper. He saw Noah Stone’s hand extended to him, to help. And he saw how his help made both of them stronger, and how that strength rippled out, person to person.

He said, partly with joy for what he’d found, partly with anguish for what he’d lost, “Because when we help each other, we help ourselves.” The promise was two-way. “It’s more honest than altruism, more real than that, more human than that.”

He pointed to the judge. “I help you”—he shifted his aim to Gordon—“you help him, it builds.” He pointed to himself. “It comes back to me. That’s the way it should be. And if it was . . . what our lives could be.”

He gazed at each of the board members. “The promise is the answer, if we have the guts to make it and to keep it.”

Benson and Donovan smiled.

Al-Kadri said, “Now I believe.” He turned to Hoshi. “I call for the vote.”

Hank wondered if these people had any idea what they were asking. He said, “I don’t think you want to do that.”

Edith turned her wise eyes on him. “After what you just said? Why not?”

“I’m not qualified. What Noah did was too . . . too valuable to turn over to an amateur.”

Benson pointed at Hank. “You’re wrong. The night Noah died, I saw you become the promise. You reached out with all the power you brought to the promise and pulled an auditorium of bloodthirsty people to you. You helped them.”

Edith nodded. “Benson has it right. It is the promise that must light the way.” She smiled. “And, Hank baby, you shine!”

Could they be right? He gazed out the window at the green hills across the valley and imagined he was sitting down across from Noah. “What would you do?”

Noah said, “I can’t tell you what to do, but after I thought long and hard about the problems we have with guns and strife, it came to me that maybe I had a duty.”

When it was put that way, Hank couldn’t argue. Any decent member of society had a duty to try to make things better. He scanned the room. All eyes were on him. They thought he could do this.
Should
do this.

It was his duty, wasn’t it? To Noah. To Jewel. To Chloe.

After another hour of wrangling, Hank agreed to give it a try. Then, his shoulder screaming at him to give it a rest, he decided to get someplace where he could sort out his thoughts and feelings. He told the board, “The new chairman is going on a retreat. See you tomorrow.”

They protested that there was a lot to do, but he was soon down the spiral staircase and outside. On the way to the parking lot, he saw Jewel on a bench in the shade of an oak tree, eating a sandwich, a brown paper sack beside her. She looked up and, to his surprise, gave a little wave. He walked to her.

She said
, “Hey” and pointed to his injured arm.

Before she could ask, he said, “It’ll be okay.”

“Good.” Her gaze flicked to the administration building and back to him. “You working with the Alliance again?”

He laughed. “I guess you could call it that.” He discovered that he wanted to talk with her about it. He hadn’t had anybody to talk to since . . . since his wife . . . since Marcie. “Listen, can I interest you in a cup of coffee after work?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid I can’t.”

Oh, well.

She continued. “Got a going-away party for Franklin.” She chuckled. “A TV producer offered him the lead in a new sitcom about a gay taxi driver.”

Hank chuckled at the irony. “Well, if you think it’s okay, wish him luck for me.”

“I think he’d like that.”

This was going nowhere. He said, “Well, I gotta go clear my head.” He turned away.

Her soft voice stopped him. “About that coffee . . .”

He turned back.

Her smile was warm, her gaze direct and open. “Ah, you’ll ask me again, right?”

He grinned. “Oh, yeah.”

Consequences

Mitch sat back in his recliner as he watched the press conference in Ashland get under way, but his gut was snarled up the way it had been since . . . since he’d had a hand in the murders of two people. Nobody had connected him to the colonel, and he hoped to God that they never did. He prayed every day to forget that awful moment, but it was still all there, all the time. Along with guilt like lead weighing ever heavier on his soul.

An announcer from the television caught Mitch’s attention with the words, “And now to our coverage of the Alliance press conference in Ashland, Oregon.”

Carrie skipped in. “Hey, Daddy. What are you watching?”

“News.” He shifted in the chair and patted a spot next to him. “Come watch with me.” She snuggled next to him.

The picture cut to Bruce Ball, the network reporter. Behind him was a low stage with a microphone stand. The stage was outdoors, with a backdrop of green hills. It was a sunny, cloudless day. He guessed there must be a hundred people, including a dozen reporters with microphones bunched up front, close to the stage.

Ball said to the camera, “This is the first public appearance by the new head of the Alliance, Hank Soldado, after the shocking murder of the U.S. Attorney General and the assassination of the organization’s leader, Noah Stone, on the campus of Southern Oregon University. The aftermath that propelled Mr. Soldado to leadership in the Alliance was caught on amateur video.”

Cut—the picture changed to Hank Soldado, standing on the auditorium stage, speaking into a microphone, lines of people stretching out from him on both sides. Bruce Ball’s voice-over said, “After the killing of Noah Stone, Soldado, although wounded in trying to prevent the murder, led the audience in something the Alliance calls ‘the promise.’”

The clip rolled, and Mitch was sucked back to that auditorium at the words of the promise. The whole audience said it with Soldado.

Ball gazed into the camera. “After her inquiry, the assassin, Colonel Martha Hanson, was sentenced to the Oregon Women’s Keep for life.”

An image of Marion Smith-Taylor’s blood dripping from his hands slammed into Mitch’s mind. He grunted with the force of it, then clenched his teeth and willed his focus back to the television. But he knew the horror would be back.

Carrie turned to him, her expression worried. “Daddy?”

“I’m fine, honey, I’m fine.”

At the Alliance press conference, a black man who looked like a football player stepped onto the stage and scanned the crowd. Mitch spotted the tension of a pro searching for danger. Must be Donovan, Soldado’s head of security.

The man gestured to the side of the stage, and moments later Hank Soldado strode onstage, dressed in casual slacks and a sport shirt, one arm in a sling. He looked strong and capable, in charge.

He stood before the microphone and gazed at the crowd. The picture zoomed in for a close-up. Recognition of the intensity in Soldado’s eyes startled Mitch. He’d seen its like before . . . in Noah Stone on the night of his speech at McCormick Place.

Hank said, “I’m here to reassure all members of the Alliance that we will stay true to the mission begun by Noah Stone.” It seemed to Mitch that Soldado’s gaze was leveled directly at him. “There are those who thought that what Noah started would end with him. I’m here to tell you that it won’t.”

Mitch glanced at Carrie. She seemed enraptured by Hank.

Hank scanned the crowd. “The Alliance will keep making the promise, and continue to keep it. That promise gave new life to me, and it can give new life to all of us. The promise is this—I promise to help, the best I can.”

Carrie looked to Mitch. “That sounds nice. Doesn’t it, Daddy?”

He sighed. “Yes, honey, it does. It does.”

Hank said, “Noah was taken before he could do all the things he had planned to help each of us, all of us, onto the road to a better life. One of the things he was most excited about was the announcement he was to make a few days ago.

“The Alliance, by vote of its board and the overwhelming support of its members, endorses Governor Alan Thomas, candidate for president of the United States.”

The audience before Hank burst into cheers and applause. Red-white-and-blue signs popped up that said, “Thomas for President.”

“We believe that Governor Thomas, as president, will help our nation move forward toward greater justice and greater safety.” He gazed into the camera. “Especially as far as guns are concerned.”

After what had happened to Noah Stone, Mitch thought Hank had all kinds of guts to stand there, exposed, and say that.

Hank said, “And now I’ll take your questions.”

Carrie turned to Mitch, her brow wrinkled. “What does he mean about guns, Daddy?”

Mitch clicked the remote and Hank vanished. He took out a mini Tootsie Roll. After raised eyebrows from Carrie, he handed it to her. “It means, sugar, that we’re going to have a long talk about guns and their place in our lives.” He smiled. “But not today. Why don’t you run along and see what your little brother is up to. I’ve got some thinking to do.”

He had some things to make up for, and signing up for the promise was a place to start.

• • •

After a half hour of being peppered with questions, Hank held up a hand. He was uncomfortable with the assault by hungry reporters, though he gave honest answers. And the pain in his shoulder had flared up. “That’s it, folks. Many thanks, and a good life to you.” He did not like this part of the job.

The reporters kept yammering questions, but Hank had no trouble turning away. He headed off the stage and smiled at the sight of Jewel waiting for him, Chloe at her side.

Parting Shots

I did not publish this book to argue about guns

• •
  I did it to stimulate thinking about gun violence, self-defense, and our criminal justice system.
  
• •
  Gundown
  offers thought-starters. not prescriptions for cures.
  
• •
  It is about community and the promise.