Linwood Barclay - The Twenty-Three

Finley had to agree that was possible. But getting in as many as they did allowed Finley to put the plant into full production, and get every truck on the road.

Trevor Duckworth was one of the first to arrive, and Finley had greeted him warmly.

“Good to see you,” he said, clapping his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I was just helping your dad get a handle on what’s been happening.”

“Uh-huh,” Trevor said.

“I was giving him some info on the water plant, what might have gone wrong.”

“Great.” Trevor cocked his head. “How do you know your own water supply isn’t going to make everyone sick?”

Finley’s head recoiled, as though he’d been struck. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Where does the town water come from? Doesn’t it come from springs and stuff in the hills around Promise Falls, just like your water? If the problem’s at the source, wouldn’t all this stuff be bad, too?”

Trevor waved a hand at the hundreds of cases of water.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Finley said. “That’s just nuts.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. My water is one hundred percent pure and drinkable. I just know it. I know it in my gut.”

Trevor did not look convinced.

“Fine, I’ll prove it to you,” Finley said. He took a few steps over to the closest pallet load, used both hands to rip a small hole in the plastic casing that held two dozen bottles together, and pulled one bottle out. He twisted the lid, heard the distinctive crack of the plastic seal being broken, tipped the bottle up to his mouth, and started drinking.

Once he’d downed nearly half the bottle, he glared at Trevor Duckworth and said, “There. You want one?”

“When was it bottled?” Trevor asked.

“What?”

“All the problems started this morning. When was that bottled? Maybe anything bottled before today is safe, but-”

“Fine, for fuck’s sake,” Finley said. He turned and bellowed, at no one in particular, “Get me a fresh bottle! From this morning!”

A young woman scurried off, returned in thirty seconds with a plastic bottle, and handed it to her boss.

“Let’s try this,” he said, going through the same ritual again, cracking the lid, drinking half the bottle this time.

“God, I’m gonna have to take such a piss,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “That water tasted absolutely perfect. Cool, fresh, no aftertaste. Not a hint of anything wrong with it.”

Trevor shrugged. “Okay, then. Which truck you want me to drive?”

“Just help load them all-then I’m going to give everyone their instructions.”

Finley took out his phone, thinking it was time to bring in David Harwood.

He needed the man’s help now more than ever. He’d hired Harwood to do his publicity, help run his mayoral campaign, but every time Finley had instructions for him, the guy had some fucking crisis. Finley couldn’t recall ever knowing someone with so many problems. All that shit years ago with his wife, then more recently this thing with his cousin and the baby. God almighty, it was a fucking soap opera with him.

Granted, he had to cut David and everyone else in this town some slack today.

Good thing he’d been sending David home with plenty of free bottled water. If he hadn’t, Finley might have lost his right-hand man this morning. But David was not the only one. He’d been sending all his employees home, lately, with free cases of water. Told them that if they worked for the company, they had to demonstrate brand loyalty.

Went to the company’s integrity, Finley told them.

Finley’d overheard one of the drivers gripe recently that they weren’t drinking Finley water; they were “drinking the Kool-Aid.”

The irony of that comment hit hard today. It was the good people of Promise Falls, who’d been foolish enough to have faith that their local officials would look after them, who’d drunk the Kool-Aid.

Finley had been very clear with Lindsay that any water she took up to Jane was to be of the bottled variety. Even the coffee or tea, or even lemonade, was not to be made from what came out of the tap. The rules had been put in place some time ago. How would it look, he’d told Lindsay one time, if it got out he didn’t drink Finley Springs Water?

It’d be like Henry Ford getting caught driving around in an Oldsmobile.

Finley took out his phone and entered David’s number. One ring, two… three… four…

“Hello.”

“David?”

Finley wasn’t sure. It didn’t sound like David, unless David had suddenly come down with a terrible cold or something.

“Yeah, this is David. What is it, Randy?”

“You okay? You sound funny.”

David cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”

“You got a second?”

A pause at the other end of the line. Finally, “Yeah, go ahead.” “You sure?”

“I said go ahead.”

“I’m about ready to drop hundreds of cases of free water right downtown. But people need to know it’s there. Plus, I’m about to give a little rallying-cry, pep-talk kind of thing here at the plant. I’d like you to be here. There needs to be a record of all this. Could be very helpful in the coming months.”

When David didn’t say anything right away, Finley said, “I’m doing a good thing here, David. I know you think it’s all self-promotion, and I won’t deny there’s an element of that, but I have an opportunity here. I have an opportunity to help people. I have an opportunity to actually do something good.”

A pause. Then, “I’m on my way.”

Finley broke into a grin. “That’s what I want to-”

David had already hung up.

• • •

The trucks were loaded and ready to go, but Finley had not yet given the word for them to move out. He was waiting for David to show up. He wanted his pep talk recorded. He could have gotten anyone here to film him on a smartphone, but Finley didn’t just want David to record it-he wanted David to hear it.

It was important, Randall Finley realized, that David actually believe in him. It was an extension of his philosophy about his employees drinking his bottled water. If David was going to be telling the good folks of Promise Falls that Finley was the man to lead them into the future after the next election, it needed to come from the heart.

Okay, maybe that was expecting too much. But David was not going to be effective if people thought he was just mouthing the words, that he was nothing more than a paid mouthpiece.

“We need to go,” Trevor said, leaning up against the back doors of one of the trucks.

“Another minute,” Finley said. “We just need to-”

There was David. Running up a short set of concrete steps, coming into the plant through the loading dock.

“Okay,” Finley said. “I want to say a few words to everyone before you go.”

He took a breath. “This is turning into one of the darkest days, if not the darkest day, in the history of Promise Falls. We’re witness to a tragedy of immense proportions. I thank God all of you are okay, but it’s very likely people you know, perhaps even loved ones, are in the hospital now, waiting for treatment.”

Finley tried to see David out of the corner of his eye, make out whether he had his phone out and was getting all this.

“What we have today is a chance to make a small difference in people’s lives. To bring them something life sustaining.” A pause. “Water. So simple and yet so fundamental to our survival. It’s like air. We take it for granted, but when we don’t have it, we can’t go on. People have been stunned to learn this morning that what is coming out of their taps may be poison. And until this horrible state of affairs has been dealt with, we’re going to step in and do what we can by offering free, safe, pure drinking water. I don’t care what it costs me. There’re thousands and thousands of dollars of product in those trucks, but I don’t care. Some things are more important than money. Being a good citizen counts above all.”