“That’s a lot to do before Friday,” I said. “If we’re going to work the bridge scam, it has to be on Friday, so we’ve got to move.”

“We’ll be back home before supper,” Marvel said. “Harold can call Dessusdelit tonight. Maybe even go over tonight. And just in case, I’ll start calling around and put the word out about John. Smart Memphis dope dealer just bought some land, and there’s something happening with the bridge. It’ll get back to the mayor and her crowd tonight, same time as Harold.”

“Good. And if Harold can’t convince Dessusdelit and the others to quit, we’ll need some help next week, after the state cops come in. We’ll need a half dozen people with white-southerner accents, to call the paper and the TV station, demanding that the council resign.”

“That’s fixed,” Harold said simply. He was wearing his brown suit again and sweating lightly despite the air-conditioning.

“What about the interim rednecks?” I asked.

“We’ve got two names, Marvin Lesse and Bill Armistead. Both are pretty wimpy, and we’ve got them by the balls on some illegal cement sales. We’ll get them appointed, and when it’s time to push them off

well, they’ll go,” Marvel said.

“We hope,” added Davis.

We all looked at each other for a minute; then Marvel said, “It’s scary,” and John said, “Let’s do it.”

The program was complex.

Marvel would finish translating the books, stripping out the portions that applied specifically to Dessusdelit, St. Thomas, and Rebeck. Harold would show only those portions to Dessusdelit.

If Harold couldn’t deal, we’d work the bridge scam.

The scam was a variation of the old pigeon drop routine. I figured if the pigeon drop worked a million times on Miami Beach, it ought to work once in Longstreet.

But instead of dropping an envelope of money on the sidewalk, we were dropping a bridge.

The bridge that Longstreet no longer had but desperately needed.

Marvel would plant the rumor that the state Department of Transportation was recommending construction of a toll bridge. But the bridge wouldn’t come into the downtown area for engineering and cost reasons. Instead, it would cross the river just north of town, coming down on the Brown property.

The property John now held an option on. A property that would quickly sprout gas stations, fast-food joints, convenience stores, and maybe a small shopping center.

That kind of information is routinely held secret by state departments of transportation so that land prices aren’t inflated before condemnation proceedings begin. The state DOT’s engineering office would be the only place that could confirm Marvel’s rumor.