KALAMAZOO CITY UNIVERSITY, MAIN AUDITORIUM, 5:50 P.M.

Zengo arrived back in the dressing room just before Myers. McGovern was no longer there. Zengo had the satisfaction of asking “Where have you been?” when the manager rushed through the door.

“Just meeting with someone,” said Myers. “And it paid off—I’ve got your debate curveball right here, Frank. McGovern, the ‘man of the people,’ has not been on the straight and narrow when it comes to his finances.”

Pandini perked up his ears.

“The reason why he’s been able to buy so much airtime for his attack ads is because he’s been receiving money from Nutter’s Nuts. He’s been running a pro-nut platform because he’s getting paid to.”

Myers held up his hand for a high five, but Pandini was deep in thought. “I don’t know what you expect me to do with this information,” he finally said.

Myers was shocked. “You’ve got to be kidding me, sir,” he said.

“I don’t know if I want to stoop to that level,” said Pandini. “No matter how much I want to win this election, McGovern is an old friend. I’m not willing to embarrass him with hearsay. Once the press gets ahold of it, true or not, they’ll print it everywhere.”

Myers said, “Respectfully, sir, this is the only way. It’s not as if everything McGovern has said about you is fair. It’s time we punch back!”

“Not like this, Irving.”

Zengo admired Pandini’s principled stance and opened his bill to say so. But Myers cut him off.

“Shouldn’t you be checking on security arrangements or something?” he snapped. “I don’t think your career will survive another assault on Mr. Pandini.”

Zengo sighed and left the room to give the stage a final sweep. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. He did see a fully packed auditorium. Not just with students and ordinary citizens, but with reporters as well. The reporters, in fact, seemed to have multiplied even just in the last day or so. He could hardly see anything but for the pulse of flashbulbs. And he could hardly hear anything but for the general hubbub.

Only when he had assured himself that Bobby and his team were manning security at all the doors did he relax his vigilance. He went back to the dressing room to check in.

Television reporter Jaiden Meltzer was moderating that evening’s debate. He was shaking Pandini’s hand when Zengo entered the room.

“Good luck tonight, Mr. Pandini.”

“Thank you, Jaiden.”

Zengo looked across the stage and saw Patrick McGovern buttoning up his suit coat. He looked confident, unfazed by all the commotion of the evening.

Meltzer made his way to shake McGovern’s hand and then took his seat at the moderator’s desk, placed before two podiums. A floor-to-ceiling photo of the Kalamazoo City skyline provided a backdrop. The house lights went down, and the crowd’s murmur was reduced to a hush.

Meltzer smiled a wide grin and said, “Welcome, everyone, to the first debate in this special election for mayor of Kalamazoo City! Thank you for joining us this evening. First, let’s welcome the candidates.”

Pandini and McGovern walked to the center of the stage, shook hands, and took to their podiums.

Zengo and Myers stood just offstage. Zengo kept his eyes roving around the room. Myers still seemed nervous, but he was paying rapt attention at the same time.

Meltzer explained the rules. Each candidate would take turns being the first to answer a question, followed by a minute when the other candidate could answer. He began by asking Patrick McGovern: “How would you solve the city’s current budget crisis?”

“Thank you for the opportunity to answer that fine question,” said McGovern. “The real crisis our beloved city faces is one of confidence. Our citizens need a mayor they can trust, one whose character is above reproach and whose past is an open book. I am that candidate. My opponent is not. We need a public servant who puts the public first and business interests second. I am that candidate. My opponent is not. . . .”

As he went on and on, talking about how rich Pandini was, how out of touch with the common citizen, Zengo could see that Pandini was getting worked up.

Finally, Meltzer turned to Pandini. “Mr. Pandini, you have one minute to respond.”

Before Pandini began to speak, Myers’s cell phone rang again. He excused himself and disappeared. Where is he going now? wondered Zengo. Then he turned his attention to what Pandini was saying.

“I have met many fine citizens in the course of this campaign,” began Pandini. “I know about their plight and their pain.”

Across the stage, McGovern scoffed. Pandini must have noticed. He continued. “Mr. District Attorney, you say you are against businesses having a hand in city government. Yet your own campaign has been fueled by, and influenced by, a major corporate entity.”

“That’s rubbish, Mr. Pandini. It is you—”

Pandini raised his hand to silence McGovern. “It’s not rubbish, sir. It’s nuts. Quite literally. You have been taking an enormous amount of money from Nutter’s Nuts. Which is why you oppose my stance on nuts. I’m sorry, Mr. McGovern, but isn’t the safety of our students more important than your campaign funds?”

The crowd gasped. Jaiden Meltzer pleaded with the crowd to maintain their composure so that they could stay on schedule and abide by the strict guidelines set forth for debates.

McGovern was fumbling for just the right comeback. Across the auditorium, flashbulbs were popping. Pandini had nailed his opponent.

At that moment, the skylights above shattered, showering the crowd with broken glass.

A dozen masked flying squirrels swooped down onto the stage.