Forrest looked directly at Snake. “While my instinct when attacked is to counterattack, violently, I’ve decided that we’re not going to dump gasoline on this fire. We can’t afford to.”
Billy saw his father gearing up to argue, but Forrest raised his right hand a few inches to forestall him. “Brody apparently lost his mind last night. I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t. He did us the favor of taking Henry Sexton off the board, but we don’t know what information he might have passed to others, or what our current exposure is. We don’t know what Morehouse told Henry before you guys took him out, but we have to assume the worst. We also don’t know what Viola Turner may have told Dr. Cage or Henry Sexton before she died. So . . . we’re pretty much in the dark when it comes to the exact nature of the threat. The body count is already unacceptably high. Even if we suspend operations and nobody else gets killed, it’ll be weeks before the FBI pulls out of the parish. And that is what we are going to do. I’ve already given the orders to my people, and you guys will do the same.”
Snake’s face had gone red, but to Billy’s amazement, he didn’t rush to fill the vacuum of Forrest’s first pause.
“The fact that what’s been in the paper has focused on the 1960s is encouraging,” Forrest went on, “because proving any of those crimes in court would be virtually impossible, especially with all the witnesses dead. One of you guys would have to turn state’s evidence for them to get a conviction, and I assume that will not happen.”
“You’re goddamned right it won’t,” Snake vowed.
Forrest acknowledged his fury with a nod. “But that doesn’t mean we’re in the clear. This morning’s busts will allow Dennis to put a lot of pressure on your mules, cookers, et cetera.” Forrest looked at Billy. “What do you think our exposure is from those people?”
“Zero to minimal,” Billy said. He’d been thinking about this all morning. “Hardly any of them can hurt us, and we’re holding wives or kids of the few who could. They won’t talk.”
“Good. Make sure our men in the CPSO reinforce that. If one man tries to cut a deal, mamas and babies start dying. Just the fact that we have people on the inside will scare the hell out of them.”
For the first time, Snake nodded in satisfaction. Probably at the coldness in Forrest’s voice, Billy thought.
“As for the bigger picture,” Forrest continued, “we’re going to play it very cool. There’ll be a lot of moving parts to my response. First, I’ve called up the Black Team. They’ll start arriving here today. If anybody needs to be threatened or hit in the short term, they’ll handle it. The Bureau has no idea who they are, as opposed to you guys. Second, I need time. First, to get Mackiever out of his job. But there are other reasons, too.” Forrest flexed his fists and looked around the room. “To that end, you guys are going to have to do something you won’t want to do. But we have no choice.”
Snake’s eyes had narrowed in suspicion.
“Sheriff Walker Dennis has asked that you guys and four other Eagles come in to the CPSO tomorrow for voluntary questioning.”
Billy’s stomach flipped over. Snake looked like he was about to bust a gut, but still he waited to hear what was coming. Sonny Thornfield was obviously terrified.
“Why me?” Billy asked hoarsely.
“Not you,” Forrest said. “I misspoke there.”
Billy nearly fell out of his chair with relief.
“At seven tomorrow,” Forrest said, “Snake, Sonny, and the other named Eagles are going to do exactly that. To my knowledge, Dennis has no plans to arrest you. This amounts to harassment, plain and simple. But you’re going to put up with it, because I need the time.”
When Snake finally blew his top, it was like a storm being unleashed from above. He could cuss more in sixty seconds than any man Billy had ever seen. Forrest simply sat there and took it, like a man waiting for a tornado to pass. Sonny looked like he might collapse from the strain at any moment. But at last, like even the most violent of hurricanes, Snake blew himself out.
Forrest waited a bit, then said calmly, “There’s no risk of arrest, Uncle Snake. Zero.”
“For you,” Snake snapped. “That goddamn Masters girl already accused me of murder in the newspaper!”
Forrest actually chuckled at this. “Yeah, well, you’ve been bragging in bars that you killed Martin Luther King. Did you think that shit was never going to come back on you?”
“This is different!”
“You’re goddamn right it is.” Forrest’s eyes looked like lasers burning into Snake’s face.
Snake looked at the broad plank floor. “What are you gonna be doing while all this is going down?”
“I’m glad you asked, Uncle. I’m going to be cutting a deal to make all this trouble go away.”
“Who with?”
“That you don’t need to know. Not right now. Nobody does.”
“Bullshit we don’t,” Snake said, looking around for support. “If you think I’m gonna walk into the sheriff’s office without knowing—”
“I do think that,” Forrest said with icy calm. “Because it’s your only option. Do anything else and you look guilty. Kill the mayor or the Masters girl or, God forbid, John Kaiser, and we’ll have an army of federal agents in here for a year. They’ll be like that posse in the Butch Cassidy movie. They’ll hound us until we’re dead. So you and your old buddies are going to walk into the CPSO like you have nothing to hide.”
“No goddamn way,” Snake muttered. “That’s suicide.”
When Forrest laughed again, Snake looked apoplectic. “I tell you what,” Forrest said. “I was going to keep this a surprise, but to ease your mind, Uncle, I’ll give you a little heads-up. Ten minutes after you walk into the sheriff’s office tomorrow, Walker Dennis won’t be the sheriff anymore.”
Snake’s mouth fell open. “What do you mean? Is the Black Team gonna kill him?”
“That’s none of your concern. All you need to know is that by the time you walk in there tomorrow, Walker Dennis will have ceased to be a factor in our situation.”