CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
game plan
Forty minutes later, I have a rapt audience. Even Humboldt is spry enough to sit next to me where I stand in front of the quiet hearth. Nerves steeled, I push my shoulders back and adjust my damp braid over my shoulder. Len, on my right, has Iona’s cell phone, though he is now wearing black nitrile rubber gloves to handle it.
“Before I begin, I need promises that our plan will be mutually agreed upon. We must handle this ourselves without the benefit of outside help”—I look at Wes, his eyes hooded with exhaustion—“from anyone but the people in this room. After the primary objective is achieved, we can call in the entire world.”
Rupert sits straighter in his chair, balancing the black cane between his knees. The attendees glance at one another, exchanging
