Page 109 of The Chain House

At the same time they were still trying to process—and no one more so than Governor Hawthorne, who’d been pacing since the news—what Agent Givens had told them minutes ago, after he’d ended his call with the fellow agent who’d been speed-reading the novel found on Emily Hawthorne’s old computer. “Right after Malcolm Dodd’s execution,” he said, “in the book, all hell breaks loose at the prison. Inside and outside the prison. Half the guards in the prison are owned by Oliver Crown. The ones who aren’t are quickly gunned down. It took them years to infiltrate the prison. Bottom line, in the novel, all the inmates break out.”

Jennifer said, “We have to stop this.”

“We can’t,” said Governor Hawthorne.

“Unfortunately, that doesn’t even scratch the surface,” Agent Givens said. “It happens all over the country. Simultaneous breakouts, all triggered by Malcolm Dodd’s execution. Inmates and guards within, former inmates armed up on the outside.”

“The chaos Batise spoke of,” said Governor Hawthorne.

Under her breath, Jennifer said, “And Oliver Crown rises from the ashes.”

“Jesus,” Sam said, thinking out loud. “The caravan Dad saw leave that vineyard …”

“They’re more than likely heading for the prison,” Hawthorne said, finishing his thought. “And most of the law enforcement around here has been dealing with the fires all day.”

“The diversion,” Jennifer said.

Governor Hawthorne turned to Agent Givens: “How far out from the vineyard are your men?”

“Seven minutes.”

“Too long,” Hawthorne said. “It’s five minutes until the execution.”

“They aren’t superheroes, Governor.”

But my dad is, Sam thought, but said, “My dad’s already in there.”

“Your dad is an unarmed history professor,” Agent Givens said. “Who weighs maybe one-forty soaking wet.”

At the same time Carl, from the warden’s desk, said, “Holy shit.” Everyone in the room looked at him.

Sam and Jennifer simultaneously said, “What?”

Governor Hawthorne stopped pacing.

Agent Givens was on the phone, but his eyes swiveled toward Carl.

“Those fires I said earlier,” Carl said. “That were being reported all over the country. Like the ones here. There are more coming in by the minute on the Spider Web.” Atop the desk, Carl turned a paper so they could better see what he’d written. “So far, every one of the fires, what they’re now calling the millionaire fires, has been set in a town or city near a state penitentiary. Fires near the Louisiana State Penitentiary, Angola, the Alcatraz of the South. Some six thousand dangerous criminals. Maricopa County Jail in Phoenix. Nine thousand inmates. Fires near Harris County Jail in Houston. Upward of ten thousand inmates. Cook County Jail in Chicago, houses ten thousand inmates. Rikers, New York, upward of fifteen thousand inmates. Los Angeles County Jail, inmate population just under—”

“Fuck,” Agent Givens said.

“Twenty thousand … inmates,” Carl said, finishing anyway. “The list goes on, sir.”

Agent Givens turned toward Governor Hawthorne. “The country is about to be thrown into complete chaos. We need to stay this execution.”

Governor Hawthorne, his face bloodless, shook his head in shock, disbelief, and every emotion in between. “He’ll kill her.”

Agent Givens wanted to hold back, Sam could tell, but couldn’t. “He’s going to kill her anyway, Governor!”

At that, Governor Hawthorne clenched his jaw, stood firm, and said, “Then you better warn the White House.”

CHAPTER62

RIGHT AFTER BETH plunged the bottom of the typewriter key into Minks’s eye, she used the next few seconds to grab the chain from the floor and wrap it around his neck.

Before he realized what she was doing, and while he was trying to pull the typewriter key from his blood-gorged eye, she’d placed her foot against his chest for leverage and started pulling on the chain, leaning back and pulling with all her strength, pulling despite how much the searing pain the exertion was causing on her wounded calf and strained back, pulling because her plan was working and maybe there was light at the end of this nightmarish tunnel, pulling because she just wanted this fucker to die.

Justice Minks—because maybe she’d just strangled the Montresor right out of him—bucked and flailed on the floor, choking and gasping for air, his mask now off his face from the fight, his neck strained and tendons tight as he’d given up on the protrusion in his eye to fight the chain around his neck.