Once the boy is gone, Admiral Dunfee leans back in his chair. With all the things threatening his domain, here's one thing he can be pleased with. He allows himself a brief moment of satisfaction, glancing over at the smiling picture of his son Harlan—better known as Humphrey in modern folklore, but those who loved him know his real name. Yes, the Admiral is redeeming himself, and setting things right, bit by bit by bit.
38 Mob
Emby's disappearance goes undiscovered for almost two days, until someone takes a look at the pinball machine and notices that something is missing.
"Where's the mouth breather?" people begin to ask. It's not until nightfall that people start asking seriously, and by morning it's clear that he's gone.
Some people claim they saw him wandering off into the desert. Some people claim there was a mysterious car that took him away. Ralphy Sherman claims he saw Emby beamed up to the mother ship to be with his own kind. Even' suggestion is mulled over. Every theory is entertained. A search is mounted by Emby's team. It turns up nothing.
Through all of this, the Admiral is silent.
Now Emby, the kid at the bottom of the pecking order, has suddenly become everyone's best friend, and his disappearance fuel for everyone's fire. Roland uses it to further his own agenda of fear—after all, he was the one who very publicly predicted that Emby would vanish. He didn't believe it for an instant, but now that his prediction has come true, he has everyone's attention.
"You watch," Roland tells all those who will listen. "The Admiral's going to show up one of these days with a nice, thick head of Emby-hair hidden beneath his hat—and any one of us could be next. Has he been looking at your eyes? Has he been listening to the sound of your voice? If he wants a part of you, you'll end up just like Emby!"
He's so convincing, he almost believes it himself. Connor has a completely different view of the situation. He's certain that Roland did away with Emby so he could use his disappearance to gather support. For Connor, it's more proof that Roland killed the Goldens—that he'll stop at nothing to get what he wants.
Connor brings his suspicions to the Admiral. He listens, but still says nothing. The Admiral knows that claiming responsibility for Emby's absence would play right into the mania that Roland is creating. The Admiral could tell Connor that he was the one who sent the boy away, but that would beg questions that he has no desire to answer. He decides to let Connor think that Roland did it—it would motivate Connor even more to find that crucial link connecting Roland to the murders. Because now the Admiral has come to believe in Roland's guilt as well.
"Forget the missing boy," he tells Connor. "Concentrate on proving Roland killed the others. Someone must have helped him—someone must know. Right now Roland has too many supporters. We can't take him down without hard evidence."
"Then somehow I'll get you evidence," Connor tells him. "I'll do it for Emby."
After Connor leaves the Admiral's jet, the Admiral sits alone, pondering the ins and outs of the situation. Things in the Graveyard have gotten dicey before, but dicey situations have always been the Admiral's specialty. He's sure he can play this one to a successful conclusion, and get everything back under his control. As he sits there in his jet, he gets an ache in his shoulder that spreads down to his arm. No doubt it's another manifestation of his various war wounds. He calls for a medic to bring him some aspirin.
39 Roland
Roland opens the envelope that Hayden has just handed him, and reads the note inside:
I KNOW WHAT YOU DID. I'LL MAKE YOU A DEAL.
MEET ME AT THE FEDEX JET.
The note isn't signed, but it doesn't have to be. Roland knows who sent it. Connor's the only one with nerve enough to blackmail him. The only one stupid enough. The note sets Roland's mind spinning. I know what you did. There are quite a lot of activities Connor could be talking about. He might know that Roland has been sabotaging the generators so he can blame the Admiral for outrageous living conditions. Or he might know about the bottle of ipecac he stole from the infirmary while pretending to flirt with Risa. He was planning to use the stuff to spike the drinks, create a puke-fest, and then blame the Admiral for giving them all food poisoning. Yes, there are plenty of things Connor could have found out about. Roland puts the note in his pocket, showing no emotion, and glares at Hayden. "So you're Connor's messenger boy now?"
"Hey," says Hayden, "I'm Switzerland: neutral as can be, and also good with chocolate."
"Get lost," Roland tells him.
"Already am." And Hayden strolls away.
It burns Roland that he might have to bargain with Connor, but there are worse things. And after all, bargains and subterfuge are a way of life for him. So he heads off toward the FedEx jet, making sure he takes a knife with him—in case there's no deal to be made.
40 Connor
"I'm here," Roland calls from outside the FedEx jet. "What do you want?"
Connor remains hidden inside the hold. He knows he's only going to get one chance at this, so he's got to do it right. "Come inside, and we'll talk about it."
"No, you come out."
Nice try, Connor thinks, but this is going to be on my terms. "If you don't come in, I'll tell everyone what I know. I'll show everyone what I found."
Silence for a moment, then he sees Roland's silhouette as he climbs into the hold. Connor has the advantage now. His eyes have adjusted to the dim light of the hold, and Roland's have not. He leaps forward and firmly plants the muzzle of the Admiral's gun against Roland's back. "Don't move."
Instinctively Roland's hands go up, as if he's been in this position many times before. "Is this your deal?"
"Shut up." Connor uses one hand to frisk him, finds the concealed knife, and hurls it out of the cargo hold. Satisfied, he pushes the gun harder against Roland. "Move."
"Where am I supposed to go?"
"You know where to go. Crate 2933. Move!"
Roland begins to walk forward, squeezing between the narrow rows of crates. Connor is conscious of every movement of Roland's body. Even with a gun to his back, Roland is arrogant and sure of himself. "You don't want to kill me," he says. "Everyone here likes me. If you do anything to me, they'll tear you apart."
They reach crate 2933. "Get in," Connor says.
That's when Roland makes his move. He spins, knocks Connor back, and grabs for the gun. Connor expected this. He holds the gun out of reach and, using the crate behind him for leverage, places his foot firmly in Roland's gut and pushes him back. Roland falls backward into crate 2933. The second he does, Connor lurches forward, slams the hatch, and seals it. While Roland rages inside, Connor takes aim at the crate and fires the gun once, twice, three times.
The blasts echo, blending with the terrified screams from within the crate, and then Roland shouts, "What are you doing? Are you insane?"
Connor's shots had been very precise; they were low, and directed at a corner of the crate. "I've given you something your victims never had," Connor tells him. "I've given you airholes." Then he sits down. "Now we talk."
41 Mob
Half a mile away, a search party returns from the desert. They didn't find Emby. Instead, they found five unmarked graves behind a distant outcropping of rocks. In a few short minutes, word spreads through the ranks like flames in a steady wind. The Goldens have been found, and apparently they weren't so golden after all. Someone suggests that the Admiral did it himself. The suggestion becomes a rumor, and the rumor quickly becomes accepted as fact. The Admiral killed his own! He's everything Roland says he is—and, hey, where is Roland? He's missing too? So is Connor! What has the Admiral done to them?!