I take another sip of coffee.
“You don’t break towns,” I say quietly.
“You make them sell themselves.”
53
Rourke Hale
My phone rings.
Tom Weaver.
I answer without greeting.
“One council member is shaky,” he says.
“Which means she’s halfway there,” I reply.
“They’re starting to ask questions.”
“They always do.”
Questions are harmless.
Action is not.
“And Saint Lawson?” he asks.
For the first time, I smile.
“He’s a symbol,” I say.
“And symbols are very useful.”
“How?”
“You don’t attack them,” I explain.
“You let them fail to stop the weather.”
There’s a moment of silence.
“Keep the pressure clean,” I continue.
“No violence.”
“No threats that can be recorded.”
“No heroes.”
“What about Rossi?” Tom asks.
“If he becomes a problem,” I say calmly,
“we make him… expensive.”
I end the call.
