“I’ll handle him,” she said.
“Good luck,” Phillips told her.
When the office phone rang ten minutes later, Sarah jumped as if she’d been poked in the ribs. She looked down at the blinking hold button, which now seemed every bit as menacing and toxic as the rain that was blowing forcefully against the tall windows.
There was a soft knock behind her.
“Yes?” Sarah said through a dry pipe. She cleared her throat and tried again. The door squealed back and Lorraine Harris stuck her head in.
“That’s the governor’s office for you,” she said in a near-whisper, a light emphasis on governor’s.
“Right, okay. Thanks.” She’d asked Harris to place the call for her, telling herself it was to keep up appearances, though the truth, if she had to admit it, was that she was procrastinating.
Harris withdrew, closing the door with painstaking reverence. Sarah thought she heard the woman echo Phillips’s “Good luck,” though she wasn’t really listening. Sarah took a deep breath, then pressed the button and lifted the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Sarah Redmond?” A woman’s voice, harsh and businesslike.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Please hold for the governor.”
Sarah drew breath to reply, but the woman clicked off before she got the chance. The line was flooded with meandering Muzak, so overwrought that it took Sarah a moment to realize it was Pennsylvania’s eponymous state song. Then the receiver on the other end was picked up, dropped on a hard surface, and snatched up again.
“Yes?” the governor said.
It was bizarre to hear Kent’s rich, deep voice, which she was familiar with from the media, coming through the phone’s tiny speaker. She had an urge to clear her throat again, but didn’t dare.
“Governor Kent? This is—”
“Sandra? Sandra Redmond?”
“It’s Sarah, sir. Yes, Sarah Redmond in Silver Lake.”
“I was wondering when I’d be hearing from you.”
“Yes, sir. The situation has reached a critical point here, and that’s why I’m calling. I’d like to formally request that y—”
“Why isn’t your boss calling me?”
“I’m sorry?”
“How come I’m not getting this call from Harlan?”
He dropped the name as if the two of them were near and dear. Sarah found this queerly fascinating and couldn’t help but marvel at the man’s audacity.
“He had major heart surgery and is still recovering,” she said.
“So you’re in charge in his absence.”
“That’s correct.”
“Well, I don’t envy you your duties on this day. You have my most profound sympathies.”
The way he spoke these two lines made a dazzling impression on her. She could feel the warmth, the empathy, the sincerity. Curtis Kent was suddenly her best friend and protector, and he’d produced that side of his character as easily as if he’d flicked a switch. It was impressive enough — but a deeply embedded instinct told her that she needed to be careful, lest she become intoxicated by his charm. The Devil’s voice is very sweet, her father used to tell her, and you’ll hear it in political circles all the time.
“Thank you,” she replied simply.
“I’m guessing you’re calling because you’d like me to mobilize the Guard?”
“Yes. We need to begin evacuating immediately.” Stick to the matter at hand, was the message flashing through her brain. No more talk about Harlan Phillips. Just stay on point and get this over with. “I’ve got the zones all mapped out.”
“Hang on a sec,” Kent said, a little impatiently. The charm switch he’d thrown before had been thrown again, to the “off” position. “The explosion at the plant took place about two hours ago, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“The storm is still in full swing.”
“Yes.”
“And the latest dosimeter reading shows a level high enough to cause intense radiation poisoning within ninety minutes.”
“Yes,” she said, “that’s correct.”
“So please correct me if I’m wrong, Sandra, but isn’t it standard procedure with evacuations under these circumstances to wait until the worst of it is over and the bulk of the radioactive material has settled?”
It finally struck Sarah that his calling her by the wrong name had been intentional from the start. He was a bastard, but he was a smart bastard, and the odds of him forgetting her name twice in the span of as many minutes was below zero — designed not only to belittle her but also denote her irrelevance to him.
“We have a very unique situation here, Governor,” she said without the slightest trace of offense and even put a touch of condescension into her tone, as if she was educating a child. “No one can say if the worst of the storm is over. Maybe it’s peaking right now, or maybe it’s going to be ten times worse in an hour. Here’s what I do know — many of the homes here are older and nowhere close to waterproof, which means a lot of my residents will contract radiation sickness if they don’t get out of here fast. We’ve got nearly five hundred cases already, ten percent of which are in an advanced state.”
She wanted to add, Did you ever consider the possibility of such statistics when you were deciding which side of the nuclear issue to come down on, or did you just take the money and run? “We also have extensive flooding throughout the south side of the town, which is only going to get worse and, as a result, seriously hamper evac and emergency-response efforts. So I say again that now, not later, is the time to—”
“Okay, okay,” Kent said irritably. “Let me ask you, have you cleared all this with your boss?”
“Excuse me?”
“Have you run this past Harlan Phillips?”
Sarah could barely believe what she said next, even as she heard every word roll out clearly.
“Governor, I’ve already explained that he is recovering from major surgery, and that he has, legally, left me in charge. That means I’m the mayor of Silver Lake today. With all due respect, I think it’s crucial that you understand this.”
In the icy silence that followed, Sarah felt as though her heart had stopped beating. Is he going to hang up? she wondered, and that terrifying thought got her heart going again in a hurry — zero to sixty in about half a nanosecond. Did I piss him off so much that he’s going to withhold Guard support just to spite me? Can he even legally do that? Images of Silver Lake residents suffering in the throes of radiation sickness filled her mind—all because of my pride—and her stomach clenched.
“You’re right, I apologize,” Kent said finally, and with absolutely no sincerity. “I meant no offense to you personally. I was referring simply to the fact that he has more experience with this kind of thing than you do, so I was wondering—”
“I have been in frequent contact with him throughout the day, and we have discussed and agreed upon all strategies,” Sarah said, rapidly and flatly.
“Ah, okay. Well, that’s good. I do, after all, want to supply you with the assistance you require.”
“So you’ll get the Guard mobilized then?”
“I will indeed.”
“Great, then please let me get back to my nightmare. Thank you so m—”
“Whoa, whoa,” Kent said, sounding every bit the confident bully he had been all his life. “Don’t go anywhere just yet.”
“I’m sorry?”