16
When Ransom Bates finally appeared on screen, the word that came to Dillon’s mind wasprune. The guy was probably still in his forties. And his face remained relatively unlined. Just the same, his expression was stamped with an indelible negative. As if he had been denied what he most wanted as a child, and was going to spend the rest of his life making everyone pay.
The first words out of his mouth were, “Your numbers don’t add up.”
Dillon had worked with prunish accountants all his life. People who entered into every dialogue expecting to be scammed. Whose greatest joy in life came from saying no.
Bailey asked, “Can you please give me a for instance?”
“I don’t need to. And I don’t have the time to teach you people rudimentary accounting.” He scanned the faces frowning back at him, Bailey and Maud and Charlie and Porter and Dillon. “Your requests for state funding are hereby denied—”
He was silenced by a computer ping. A sixth face popped into view. The dark-skinned gentleman was portly and grinning and wearing a peaked Santa’s hat. “Ho, ho, ho.”
Bailey said, “Boyd Harrow, what a surprise.”
Ransom snorted his disbelief, but quietly. If anything his expression grew even more severe.
Bailey went on. “Everyone, this is my pal Boyd, formerly head of Standard Charter, currently serving as the governor’s chief of staff. Boyd, meet everyone.”
“Bailey, how are you and that lovely town of yours holding up?”
“Touch and go, Boyd. Depends on the day. We appreciate the state’s help.”
“More with every passing hour,” Porter added.
“Well, we’re here to serve the greater good. Isn’t that right, Ransom?”
Dillon could almost hear the state auditor’s teeth grinding.
“I’ve taken a look at your documents, and so has the governor’s bookkeeper. We both feel there’s a real case for your getting everything you’ve requested.”
Ransom started, “Actually, sir, there are some very serious issues—”
“Did you just interrupt me?” Boyd lost his smile. When Ransom remained grimly silent, the governor’s top man continued. “Oh, good. I was concerned about a serious breach of protocol. Now where was I?”
“I’m not sure,” Bailey replied. “Suddenly I went all breathless.”
“Money. That’s right. Look, here’s what I propose. We are going to deposit all the requested funds into your town’s account this afternoon. When the sun comes out again, we’ll sit around the table and hammer out the details. That sound good to you, Ransom?”
The state auditor remained mute. Motionless.
“Excellent.” Boyd was clearly enjoying himself. “So you willpersonallycontact my office andassureme the funds have gone outbefore close of business. We clear on that, Ransom?”
“Sir.” The man sounded positively strangled.
“Good. Sorry, people. I’m off to put my finger in another dike. Merry Christmas and all that.”
Bailey waited for the governor’s man to sign off before telling the auditor, “Thank you for your time.”
Ransom’s response was cut off by the screen going blank. Dillon was glad he hadn’t actually heard the words.
Bailey said again, “Breathless.”
Right then, with a sigh from the furnace as it went quiet, the lights went out. Porter’s radio squawked first, then the fire chief’s. Charlie reported, “Whole town’s just gone dark again.”
Sullen gray light filtered through the station windows, illuminating the group as they rose and unlimbered. Maud said, “Shame that good feeling couldn’t have lasted a trace longer.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Bailey offered Dillon a grand smile. “Thanks to our man here, my day has been made. Power or no power.”
