Sons of Fortune Read online

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Davenport,” said the principal, rising from his place.

  Fletcher turned to see his wife, “Lucy wasn’t in Miss Hudson’s class,” were his first words.

  “I know,” said Annie, “she was with me. When I got your message, I dropped her off with Martha and came straight over.”

  “Do you know Miss Hudson?” asked the chief.

  “I’m sure Alan has told you that everyone knows Mary, she’s an institution. I think she’s the longest-serving member of staff.” The principal nodded. “I doubt if there’s a family in Hartford who doesn’t know someone who’s been taught by her.”

  “Can you give me a profile?” asked the chief, turning to face Alan Shepherd.

  “In her fifties, single, calm, firm and well respected.”

  “And something you left out,” added Annie, “much loved.”

  “What do you think she’d be like under pressure?”

  “Who knows how anyone would react under this sort of pressure,” said Shepherd, “but I’ve no doubt she’d give up her life for those children.”

  “That’s what I feared you’d say,” said the chief, “and it’s my job to make sure she doesn’t have to.” His cigar was no longer glowing. “I’ve got over a hundred men surrounding the main block and a sniper on top of the adjacent building who says he occasionally gets a sighting of Bates.”

  “Presumably you’re trying to negotiate?” said Fletcher.

  “Yes, there’s a phone in the room which we’ve been calling every few minutes, but Bates refuses to pick it up. We’ve set up a loudspeaker system, but he’s not responding to that either.”

  “Have you thought of sending someone in?” asked Fletcher as the phone on the principal’s desk rang. The chief pressed the intercom button.

  “Who’s this?” Culver barked.

  “It’s Senator Davenport’s secretary, I was hoping…”

  “Yes, Sally,” said Fletcher, “what is it?”

  “I’ve just seen a report on the news that says the gunman is called Billy Bates. The name sounded familiar, and it turns out that we have a file on him—he’s been to see you twice.”

  “Anything helpful in his case notes?”

  “He came to lobby you on gun control. He feels very strongly on the subject. In your notes you’ve written ‘restrictions not tough enough, locks on triggers, sale of firearms to minors, proof of identification.’”

  “I remember him,” said Fletcher, “intelligent, full of ideas but no formal education. Well done, Sally.”

  “Are you sure he isn’t just crazy?” asked the chief.

  “Far from it,” said Fletcher. “He’s thoughtful, shy, even timid, and his biggest complaint was that no one ever listened to him. Sometimes that sort of person feels they have to prove a point when every other approach has failed. And his wife leaving him and taking the children, just when he’s lost his job, may have tipped the balance.”

  “Then I’ve got to take him out,” said the chief, “just like they did with that guy in Tennessee who locked up all those officials in the revenue office.”

  “No, that’s not a parallel case,” insisted Fletcher, “that man had a record as a psychopath. Billy Bates is a lonely man who’s seeking attention, the type that regularly comes to see me.”

  “Well, he’s sure grabbed my attention, Senator,” responded the chief.

  “Which could be precisely why he’s gone to such extremes,” said Fletcher. “Why don’t you let me try and speak to him?”

  The chief removed his cigar for the first time; junior officers would have warned Fletcher that meant he was thinking.

  “OK, but all I want you to do is to get him to pick up the phone, then I’ll take over any negotiations. Is that understood?” Fletcher nodded his agreement. The chief turned to his number two and added, “Dale, tell them that the senator and I are going out there, so hold their fire.” The chief grabbed the megaphone and said, “Let’s do it, Senator.”

  As they started walking down the corridor, the chief added firmly, “You’re only to step a couple of paces outside the front door, and don’t forget your message needs to be simple, because all I want him to do is pick up the phone.”

  Fletcher nodded as the chief opened the door for him. He took a few steps before he came to a halt and held up the megaphone. “Billy, this is Senator Davenport, you’ve been to see me a couple of times. We need to speak to you. Could you please pick up the phone on Miss Hudson’s desk?”

  “Keep repeating the message,” barked the chief.

  “Billy, this is Senator Davenport, would you please pick up…”

  A young officer came running toward the open door, “He’s picked up the phone, Chief, but he says he’ll only speak to the senator.”

  “I’ll decide who he talks to,” said Culver. “No one dictates to me.” He disappeared through the door and almost ran back to the principal’s study.

  “This is Chief Culver. Now listen, Bates, if you imagine…” The phone went dead. “Damn,” said the chief as Fletcher walked back into the room. “He hung up on me, we’re going to have to try again.”

  “Perhaps he meant it when he said he would only speak to me.”

  The chief removed his cigar again. “OK, but the moment you’ve calmed him down, you pass the phone over.”

  Once they’d returned to the playground Fletcher spoke over the megaphone again. “Sorry, Billy, can you call again, and this time I’ll be on the other end of the line?” Fletcher accompanied Don Culver back to the principal’s study to find Billy already on the speaker-phone.

  “The senator’s just walked back into the room,” the principal assured him.

  “I’m right here, Billy, it’s Fletcher Davenport.”

  “Senator, before you say anything, I’m not budging while the chief has all those rifles trained on me. Tell them to back off if he doesn’t want a death on his hands.”

  Fletcher looked at Culver, who removed his cigar once again before nodding.

  “The chief’s agreed to that,” said Fletcher.

  “I’ll call you back when I can’t see one of them.”

  “Right,” said the chief, “tell everyone to back off, except for the marksman on the north tower. There’s no way Bates could spot him.”

  “So what happens next?” asked Fletcher.

  “We wait for the bastard to call back.”

  Nat was answering a question on voluntary redundancies when his secretary came rushing into the boardroom. They all realized that it had to be urgent as Linda had never interrupted a board meeting before. Nat immediately stopped speaking when he saw the anxious look on her face.

  “There’s a gunman at Hartford Elementary…” Nat went cold, “…and he’s holding Miss Hudson’s class hostage.”

  “Is Luke…”

  “Yes he is,” she replied. “Luke’s last lesson on a Friday is always Miss Hudson’s art class.”

  Nat rose unsteadily from his chair and walked toward the door. The rest of the board remained silent. “Mrs. Cartwright is already on her way to the school,” Linda added as Nat left the room. “She said to tell you she’ll meet you there.”

  Nat nodded as he pushed open a door that led into the underground parking garage. “Stay by the phone,” was the last thing he said to Linda as he climbed into his car. When he nosed up the ramp and out onto Main Street, he hesitated for a moment before turning left instead of his usual right.

  The phone rang. The chief touched the speaker and pointed to Fletcher.

  “Are you there, Senator?”

  “Sure am, Billy.”

  “Tell the chief to allow the TV crews and press inside the barrier; that way I’ll feel safer.”

  “Hey, wait a minute,” began the chief.

  “No, you wait a minute,” shouted Billy. “Or you’ll have your first body in the playground. Try explaining to the press that it only happened because you didn’t let them inside the barrier.” The phone went dead.