All of the speakers made essentially the same points, that approval should not have been given to open The First People’s Bank in Montgomery, that the building of the mysterious second branch was flat out illegal. Many of them were former Bank of America customers or people belonging to the credit union who ascribed blame for the closing and firebombing of their respective financial institutions to the new bank. But as the evening wore on, Derrick found himself growing more and more defensive of First People’s. His original intention to disentangle the town’s finances from the clutches of a rapacious lender whose employees had threateningly expelled him this morning from their building was forgotten as he dug in with his support. He had no idea where this was coming from, but he could sense its incongruity even as it was happening. He wanted to side with the protesting townspeople—but for some reason he didn’t.

Comments were cut off after an hour. There were still several people to go, and Derrick made a motion to carry over the discussion to the next meeting, which was seconded and approved. The remaining agenda items were addressed, and the meeting ended with no one happy.

Afterward, walking alone to his car, his phone buzzed as he received a text. Who could it be at this hour? Derrick wondered. He stopped to read it: Good job tonight! –Worthington.

How could Worthington have known what went on tonight? Had someone from the bank been observing the meeting? Derrick didn’t think so. He read the text again. It was definitely unnerving, but, at the same time…he had done a good job tonight.

Feeling uneasy and off balance, he shut off his phone and hurried through the darkness to his car.

4

“Hello, caller. You’re on the air.” Chet pushed the button on his console next to line one.

“Hello, Chet? How you doing? My name’s Teague, and I want to talk about sasquatch scat I found when I was hunting along Blue Ridge last weekend.”

Chet cut him off. “Sorry, Teague. Tonight’s topic is the sheriff department’s gestapo tactics. Let’s stick with that.” He saw a blinking light on line two and pressed the button beside it. “Next caller.”

“Long time, first time. How you doing?”

“The same as I’ve been doing all night. Get to your point.”

“Well, I’ve been a loyal member of your army since day one, and I think it’s about time we rose up against this fascist.”

“Now you’re talking,” Chet encouraged him.