When Casey arrived at Kevin's house, his friend's mother was taking fresh bread out of the oven. So Casey, Jeff, Terry, and Kevin got to saw off huge hunks of great-smelling bread and spread it deep with butter and homemade strawberry jam. Casey told his three companions that the dimensions of the window matched the ones given to Vance's Draperies, so he knew they were on the right track.
Jeff was a good driver, but he was so slow and careful about everything that Casey wondered if they would ever get to their destination. Before they even got into the car, Jeff insisted on reviewing the route Casey had chosen.
"I think I know exactly where it is," Jeff said. "There's a gun club before you get to it, but it's no forty kilometres. It's more like fifty."
It was a great day for a country drive. There had been no wind all day, and the morning hoar-frost still clung to even the smallest twigs, making the passage along the roads still and beautiful. The roads themselves were well cleared through the gently rolling, snow-covered prairie. Nobody spoke for a while until Kevin said, "I hear it's been decided Mr. Hanson won't be able to stay on as mayor. People are saying your dad would run if Mr. Hanson stepped down. Will he? My parents say he'd be terrific."
"He's been thinking about it," Casey said, "and so has Mr. Ogilvy."
"My parents say Ogilvy has absolutely no chance of ever being mayor in this town," Terry said. "He's such an unpopular snob, and he has no experience except looking after his own fortune."
"Well," Casey said, willing the car to go faster, "we'll just have to see what happens."
It was four o'clock before they found the Sorum place with its high chain-link fence and trespassers will be prosecuted sign on the gate.
"Drive on just a bit," Casey said to Jeff. When they stopped, he contemplated the situation for a few minutes.
Finally, Kevin asked, "You going in there?"
"Yeah," Casey said. "If someone comes to the door, I'll say I'm lost or something."
Casey got out of the car, walked back to the gate, waved back at his friends as he opened it, then went in, leaving the gate ajar. He was on a long driveway that ran beside a one-storey frame house painted grey with white trim around the windows. The only door he could see faced onto the driveway, which curved to the left behind the house. Casey noticed a deep, narrow path crossing in front of the house and down the other side.
Maybe the front door was that way, he thought, deciding to follow the path. From the corner he could see straight back to the side of a second building. There was no other door, but since he had gone this far he decided to keep going. All was quiet as Casey strode along the path. He was about to step out from beside the house when he heard a man's voice ask, "Is there going to be enough room in the van for all this stuff?"
Casey froze.
A second voice replied, "There will be, but it'll be a tight squeeze because we've got to pick up some boxes from Fraserville, too."
"It's a shame we have to do this," the first man said.
"Yeah, and whose fault is that?"
"All right, all right! Don't start that up again."
Casey dared a quick peek around the corner. He glimpsed the backs of two men, the open hatch of a large dark blue van, and some cartons with markings that looked the same as the ones he had seen in the Old Willson Place's attic.
"Even that night I could have talked to him," the first voice said. It had a whine in it. "At least I could have convinced him not to tell about the headquarters. My headquarters. At last I was going to be the head of a whole unit."
"You think you were going to convince him?" The second voice was full of scorn. "He was too thick to see what's going to happen to this country if groups like us don't wake people up. Someone had to shut him up."
"Well, at least they don't know who we are or where we are," the whiner said. "And in a couple of days we'll be out of here and they never will know."
"When this place is emptied, Elsie and I can start wiping everything down for prints and head off in the truck."
Casey carefully turned in his tracks. These men had to be the ones from the Hate Cell, and he knew he had to get a better look at them. He went back to where the path began, sauntered down the driveway, stopped at the door, and knocked.
"Hello!" he called out as he rapped. "Anybody home?" Nobody answered, so he headed back toward the building behind the house. The men were still busy packing the van. Obviously, they hadn't heard him knock or call out. So when he approached them, they stared at him in surprise.
"Can't you read?" the whiner squealed. "If you're not off this property in one minute, you'll regret it!"
"I can read, sir," Casey said. He tried not to look as astonished as he felt. The man he was talking to looked so much like a younger Mr. Deverell that it had to be the teacher's son. "I was just wondering if you'd like to subscribe to the Edmonton Journal. If you take the paper for six weeks, I'll win a new mountain bike and …" As he talked, Casey moved so he could peer into the other half of the garage. A new red Toyota pickup was parked there.
"That left-wing rag?" the Mr. Deverell look-alike shouted. "Never! Now get out of here!"
"Hand me that crowbar," his companion muttered. "If this kid isn't gone by the count of five, he's mincemeat."
"I'm going, I'm going," Casey said, trying to calm his pounding heart. He trotted quickly up the driveway, the man with the crowbar close behind. A curtain moved, and Casey spied a woman's face in the window, a face he recognized. He started running flat out.
Jeff had the car turned around and the engine racing as Casey jumped in. "Go! Go! Go!" he cried as he slammed the door. Jeff floored the gas pedal, and the car shot away. "Boy, am I glad you had this thing ready to split," Casey gasped.
"What happened?" Kevin asked. "I saw the guy chasing you and then turn back."
"That was one of two big guys who were out at the back. They didn't want me there. I think he went back to get the van I saw. Jeff, do you know any shortcuts home?"
"For now I'll turn into the gun club and park where we can see the road." Jeff made a sharp turn at the next right and drove up the slope to the club.
"We've got enough of a lead that they probably couldn't have seen us turn in," Kevin assured his companions.
"And if they do come looking," Jeff added, "you can hide in the men's room, Casey. There's bound to be a bunch of our dad's buddies around we can talk to." He parked the car near the road.
A couple of minutes later Casey shouted, "That's the van!" He sighed with relief as the dark blue van streaked by. "Good thinking, Jeff. Now how about you drive us home a different way."
"I'll do my best, but it's going to be dark soon and I can't go too far out of the way. If it were tomorrow when daylight saving time ends, it would be even darker." Jeff drove down the gun club road toward the main road, turned in the opposite direction to the way the blue van had gone, and started the long trip back to Richford.
"Glad you studied the roads around the Sorum place like you did, Jeff," Kevin said.
"Me, too," Casey agreed.
"What did you find out?" Terry asked.
"You're not going to believe this." Casey's heart was still pounding. "One guy I saw looked just like Mr. Deverell. It's got to be his son. They were loading the van with cartons like the ones I saw at the Old Willson Place and yakking about how they were going to save the country and how they had to shut someone up. And they said they'd be leaving in a day or two."
Casey sat silently for a while. He couldn't tell them he had seen a red Toyota pickup in the garage — that was part of the investigation he wasn't supposed to know about. But he could tell them who he had seen when he glanced at the window. "Elsie Tavich was in the house."
Kevin whistled. "The woman on the poster?"
"The very same. She was staring out a window as I went by."
"Wow!" Terry said. "Now we're really getting somewhere!"
Jeff made great time and only took one wrong turn that set them back a few minutes. It was a little after five-thirty when they stopped in front of Casey's house.
"Jeff," Casey said, "you were terrific. Thanks a lot." He handed Jeff some money for the gas, got out of the car, and added, "I'll keep you all posted."
"And we won't say anything," Jeff promised, while Kevin and Terry nodded.
When Casey came in the back door, Hank asked, "Where the heck have you been, Casey?"
"Here and there. Are they home yet?"
"No. Dad phoned around five to say he and Mom got the tickets to the Oilers game, so they decided to stay in Edmonton overnight. They asked if you want a DVD player with your television. The appliance store is open Sunday, and Dad's going to call you at noon tomorrow, so you better be here."
"Yeah, I sure do want it. I'll be here."
"That wasn't the only call you got. What am I supposed to be — your social secretary?"
"So who else?"
"Your woman friend. She said you'd know where to reach her. What's her name, anyway? Aren't you supposed to be telling me all about her?"
Casey grinned. "Her name's Sarah. I'll give her a call after I eat. What did you have for supper?"
"I ordered a pizza. Your half's in the fridge."
Casey went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "Looks like the small half," he said. "More like a third."
"Well, what can I say? You should've been home."
Casey heated the pizza in the microwave and poured himself a glass of milk. It was ages since he had eaten anything, and the pizza wasn't enough. "What if I order another one?" he asked Hank from the kitchen door. "What do you want on it? Same stuff?"
"Tell them to double the mushroom topping and add Italian sausage."
"The girl says they're real busy." Casey hung up the phone and went into the living room. "It'll take over half an hour."
"Okay by me. I'm not the one who's hungry."
Sarah's Fraserville line was busy for quite a while after Casey called for the pizza, but he finally got through to her. "Sarah, have I got things to tell you!"
"Casey?" Sarah asked.
"No, and you sure sound a lot like whoever it is that almost always answers when I call your number. Who is he?"
"That's my brother, Hank."
"How come he's always there? Doesn't he go to school or work or something?"
Casey didn't want to be disloyal to Hank and make him sound like a loser, so he said, "He does freelance computer work for people. It's because of him, and of course you for getting the phone number, that I have things to tell."
"So tell."
"Hank found out who the phone number you gave me belongs to and where they live."
"Your brother must be pretty smart."
"Don't ever tell him that. You'll never hear the end of it. Anyway, the number belongs to Alfred Sorum. This afternoon the brother of a friend of mine took me out to the place, and I talked to two men there. One has to be Mr. Deverell's son!"
"No kidding?" Sarah was impressed. "That's really something."
"Yeah, but before I talked to them they were going on and on about how important it was that people around here came to their senses and realized that the country was being ruined — and on and on."
"And one of them bashed in Mr. D.'s skull?" Sarah asked. "Surely not his own son?"
"I don't know. Now, I've had this idea. It involves you, Sarah, and I don't know if you'll want to do it."
"Well, first, are you going to be in a rush to get back to university tomorrow?"
"No. There are no classes this Monday, so I'm making it a long, lazy weekend."
"Great! What would you think of going to the nursing station nearest Mr. Deverell's room at the Fraserville hospital and making a call from the station phone to the Sorum number? You're smart. You'll figure a way. If no one answers, leave a voice mail message. I know there's voice mail because I phoned the number once from the library. Or say to whoever answers the phone that you're calling from the nursing station near Mr. Deverell's room and you know they'd be happy to hear Mr. Deverell is beginning to come out of his coma. If they have a voice mail that tells them who called, they'll see it was the hospital. They'll be pretty mystified as to how you got the number and very upset about Mr. Deverell waking up. I heard them say yesterday they'll need a day or two more time before they're ready to disappear. It's very important that you don't call until after noon, and make sure you don't forget that the time changes tonight."
"Why not till after noon?" Sarah asked.
Casey heard the doorbell ring. "Wait a sec." He shouted to his brother, "Can you get the door, Hank? Here's the money."
Hank brought the pizza into the kitchen, went out to pay the delivery man, and came back. "You talking to Sarah?"
"Let me ask her something."
Casey handed him the phone.
"Hi, Sarah, this is Casey's brother, Hank … I'm a magician, eh? Well, Casey said finding your address was important. I hope you're not upset that I got it." Hank grinned. "University, huh? Interesting?" He looked thoughtful. "Maybe I'll call you sometime … You'd like that? Well, goodbye, Sarah." He passed the phone back to Casey.
"I'll be here for your call, Sarah," Casey told her. With Hank standing right there, he couldn't go into the reason she wasn't to call before noon, but that was okay. He was sure she would do as he had asked. "Thanks for doing this."
"Sure," Sarah said. "Goodbye."
"What's going on with you two?" Hank asked. He had zapped the pizza for a few seconds while Casey was talking and was starting on a large wedge. "I think it's time, bro', that we had that little talk."