“I understand. You need time.”
“You must also understand why I might have my own doubts about rejoining.”
Elwood leans forward. He clasps his hands together.
“If it means anything, Baptiste... the way we’ve treated you... it was a mistake, and I... I...”
“Apologize?”
“Something like that,” he says.
“I never thought in a million years I’d hear that from you, Supreme Elder.”
Elwood lets out a small, uncharacteristic smile.
“The Supreme Elder is never supposed to apologize or explain, but I think I can let that one slip when it’s warranted.”
“You’re rattled,” I say quietly. “The Masked Killer is getting to you, and to the rest of the Castaways.”
Elwood pauses for a moment. There’s a heaviness that seems to weigh on him with the mere mention of the name.
“Yes, you could say that.”
“You’re threatened by an internal civil war,” I continue. “The Castaways are splitting apart. You need loyalty. That’s why you came to me.”
Elwood nods.
“I think you’re worth more than mere loyalty, Mr. Tremblay. You’re a man who cares about integrity, and doing the right thing, even if that costs you. The Castaways need more of that, especially now.”
The noise from busy New York traffic rises up from many levels below us, the real world creeping into all this talk of secret societies and arranged marriages.
He nods at me. I nod back.
And then he stands up and walks out of my penthouse.
I look out at the same skyline he was looking at. This is his empire, and yet he came here to grovel.
The Supreme Elder of the Castaways apologizing? So, pigs can fly.
The moment Elwood shuts the door behind him, my phone buzzes again. With a sigh, I check who it is.
Cromwell Auclair.
I stare at the name on my phone screen with trepidation.
Today just got busier.
I answer the call.
59
BAPTISTE
“Good morning, sir. How may I help you this fine day?”
On the other end of the phone, the father of my childhood friend laughs.
“I was hoping to catch you, Baptiste,” Cromwell says. “I want to speak to you before you disappear again.”