Under the Dome

And to wear a target—that, too. For a long time, Andy was the only one against whom Howie had had hard evidence. He was the frontman and probably didn’t even know it, cheery gladhanding dumbshit that he was. Andy was First Selectman, First Deacon at Holy Redeemer, first in the hearts of the townsfolk, and out front on a trail of corporate documents that finally disappeared into the obfuscatory financial swamps of Nassau and Grand Cayman Island. If Howie and the State Attorney General had moved too soon, he would also have been first to get his picture taken while holding a number. Maybe the only one, should he believe Big Jim’s inevitable promises that all would be well if Andy just kept mum. And he probably would. Who was better at dummying up than a dummy?

Last summer, things had begun working toward what Howie had seen as the endgame. That was when Rennie’s name had started showing up on some of the paperwork the AG had obtained, most notably that of a Nevada corporation called Town Ventures. The Town Ventures money had disappeared west instead of east, not into the Caribbean but into mainland China, a country where the key ingredients of decongestant drugs could be bought in bulk, with few or any questions.

Why would Rennie allow such exposure? Howie Perkins had been able to think of only one reason: the money had gotten too big too fast for one holy washing machine. Rennie’s name had subsequently appeared on papers concerning half a dozen other fundamentalist churches in the northeast. Town Ventures and the other churches (not to mention half a dozen other religious radio stations and AM talkers, none as big as WCIK) were Rennie’s first real mistakes. They left dangling strings. Strings could be pulled, and sooner or later—usually sooner—everything unraveled.

You couldn’t let go, could you? Brenda thought as she sat behind her husband’s desk, studying the papers. You’d made millions—maybe tens of millions—and the risks were becoming outrageous, but you still couldn’t let go. Like a monkey who traps himself because he won’t let go of the food. You were sitting on a damn fortune and you just kept on living in that old three-story and selling cars at that pit of yours out on 119. Why?

But she knew. It wasn’t the money; it was the town. What he saw as his town. Sitting on a beach somewhere in Costa Rica or presiding over a guarded estate in Namibia, Big Jim would become Small Jim. Because a man without a sense of purpose, even one whose bank accounts are stuffed with money, is always a small man.

If she confronted him with what she had, could she make a deal with him? Force him out in return for her silence? She wasn’t sure. And she dreaded the confrontation. It would be ugly, possibly dangerous. She would want to have Julia Shumway with her. And Barbie. Only Dale Barbara was now wearing his own target.

Howie’s voice, calm but firm, spoke up in her head. You can afford to wait a little while—I was waiting for a few final items of proof myself—but I wouldn’t wait too long, honey. Because the longer this siege goes on, the more dangerous he’ll become.

She thought of Howie starting to back down the driveway, then stopping to put his lips on hers in the sunshine, his mouth almost as well known to her as her own, and certainly as well loved. Caressing the side of her throat as he did it. As if he knew the end was coming, and one last touch would have to pay for all. An easy and romantic conceit for sure, but she almost believed it, and her eyes filled with tears.

Suddenly the papers and all the machinations contained therein seemed less important. Even the Dome didn’t seem very important. What mattered was the hole that had appeared so suddenly in her life, sucking out the happiness she had taken for granted. She wondered if poor dumb Andy Sanders felt the same way. She supposed he did.

I’ll give it twenty-four hours. If the Dome’s still in place tomorrow night, I’ll go to Rennie with this stuff—with copies of this stuff—and tell him he has to resign in favor of Dale Barbara. Tell him that if he doesn’t, he’s going to read all about his drug operation in the paper.