As soon as the plane had taxied to a stop, Whitman grabbed Edmond Dantès and Flix, and they offloaded the poppies into the back of a waiting jeep. There was no driver; that was part of Dantès’s job. But Whitman didn’t need him; he knew the way to the Well.

Back inside the plane, he saw that Charlie had already breached the cockpit, brought the pilot and navigator back to the passenger section, sat them down with the flight attendant so there was no chance they could use the plane’s radio. She had taken possession of their mobile phones long enough to remove the batteries before handing them back to their respective owners.

Whitman took Flix aside. “Compadre, you’re going to stay here with the crew and Dantès.”

“But—”

“No buts. Someone has to keep them incommunicado for the time being. Besides, after what you’ve been through I don’t want to—”

“I’m fine, compadre. Have the girl babysit.”

Charlie advanced on him. “¿No qué no, eh?” Really? “After everything?”

Immediately Flix looked abashed. “Sure, sure. Lo siento.” Sorry. “It’s just … I wanted to be in on the last act.”

“And you are.”

“You don’t trust me now, because of—” He tapped the side of his head. “You saw what I did back there.”

“I saw what happened to you,” Whitman said, “and I took care of it. I trust you like I’ve always trusted you.” He squeezed Flix’s shoulder. “Red Rover’s a trio. It always was; it always will be. Okay?” He smiled at Flix, who nodded, smiling back.

“Orale pues.” Okay then. “Todo se vale, guei.”

“That’s right,” Whitman said, signaling to Charlie. “It’s all good, dude.”

“See you on the other side, Charlie,” Flix said as they exited the plane.

*   *   *

Albin White was waiting for Preach when his rattletrap truck pulled up outside the complex of buildings in rural Virginia. The beginning of the summoning was a ritual in and of itself, and Hartwell played no part in it. White had a bottle of White Lightnin’ corn likker in one hand, two shot glasses in the other.

The moment Preach climbed down from the truck’s cab, White poured the drinks, handed one of the glasses to Preach, and they drank.

“I trust your journey north was without incident,” White said, as they headed toward the Well.