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.She too had sensed Edmund Buckel'semotion, been touched by it.Then her waitress brought her breakfast, and tookJenny's to the booth.Lee was finishing her waffle when the police arrived.The captain in command eyed the auras, then gathering himself, approached Doveand spoke to him calmly and professionally, addressing him as Mr.Aran.Dove'speople, he said, could finish breakfast, but afterward he'd need to talk tothem outside.He'd barely said it when the man who'd asked for healing camefrom the restroom."Itworked!" he shouted."I'm healed! Thank you, God, he healed me!" He lookedaround at the startled faces."I just had my first really good pee in years!"For a moment, silence reigned, followed by applause and friendly laughter,breaking the tension of a moment before.The police captain stared, thenretreated to the vestibule, shaking his head.* * *After Lee had signed the receipt, the captain led the tour crew out into thesunshine.Overhead were two police choppers.Some distance off, a TV chopper circledslowly.Eight or ten police cruisers blocked the entryways and approach road.Thecaptain ledDove to one of the police cars, while a sergeant and several other officersgathered the tour crew.Art Knowles remonstrated with the sergeant in charge.Page 181ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlHe was Dove's security chief, he said, and should be allowed to go with him.Politely but firmly the sergeant refused."Sir," he said, "nobody's going todo him any harm.He'll be just fine."Several people had followed them out of the restaurant, and one of themshouted to the captain."I hope to hell you know what you're doing, officer."The captain turned and called back."I hope so too, sir, I surely do." He gotinto the cruiser beside Dove and closed the door.Then the car pulled out ontothe frontage road, and accelerated sharply as it headed for the on-ramp,followed by other patrol cars.The senior sergeant and three other highway patrolmen herded the rest of theparty toward the bus.Lor Lu confronted the sergeant."Sergeant, I am Lor Lu,Mr.Aran's administrative assistant.In his absence I'm responsible for thesepeople.What exactly is this all about?""Mr.Lu, martial law has been declared in Arkansas.You folks are in danger ofyour lives, and Governor Cook isn't about to let Mr.Aran get killed here.Orany of the rest of you folks.Last night about midnight, a whole busload offolks got all shot upDonnie Jamison and his Christian Singers.They were in another Celebrity Toursbus, on the I-40 bridge out of Memphis.Seems likely someone mistook it foryours.Slammed a bunch of rockets into it.Killed everyone on board.So when nobodyknew where you were last night, Governor Cook was worried to death abouty'all.Now you're under protective custody, and one of my men is going todrive.He knows where we're going, and there's no need for any of you toworry."Good God!Lee thought, a whole busload killed! That's terrible!She wondered if the police had anything to do with it.Steven Buckels introduced himself to the sergeant, and explained that he andhis father weren't part of the tour crew."But my sister is," he said,indicating Jenny."We drove out from North Carolina to see her.We'll followyou.""I'm afraid that won't work, Reverend Buckels.Your sister needs to come alongwith the rest of Mr.Aran's folks, and the escort isn't to let anyone follow."The sergeant frowned."Now my orders don't say anything about guests of thetour.So if Mr.Lu is willing to call you that, and if you're willing to leaveyour car here."Steven hesitated for perhaps a second, then "I'll be right back, sergeant," hesaid.His eyes found Lor Lu, who was ushering the last few crew members aboard thebus;Jenny was the last of them.Steven strode over to them, and briefly theytalked.Two minutes later, Steven and Edmund Buckels were aboard with the tourcrew, carrying only a small bag each.The sergeant took a seat halfway back in the bus, and sent the remaining twoof his men farther to the rear.The trooper-driver seemed familiar with buses.After warming it up briefly, he drove from the lot, preceded by a patrol carand followed by others.* * *The TV hadn't been turned back on, so Duke Cochran booted up his laptop.Protective custody, he said to himself.And the pope is Presbyterian.He wondered where they were taking Dove, and if they'd be stupid enough to doanything to him.Jail him perhaps.It occurred to him that might be what Dove intended; theymight be playing into his hands.Although what possible purpose that couldserve.He'd already rejected the idea that the state patrol might haveshot up the other bus.He was no lawyer, but it seemed to him the FBI wouldPage 182ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlassert its jurisdiction over murders aboard an interstate commercial carrier.And if the state police were guilty of the killings, the feds would stick itto them ruthlessly.His thoughts were interrupted by a patrolman collecting laptops and cellphones.Without them, Cochran felt naked.* * *Lor Lu turned on the television, which as usual was set to CNN.The picturegave them an aerial viewpoint.The TV chopper had accompanied the captain'scruiser, keeping the prescribed distance, but telephoto shots showed Dovevisible through a window.A radar readout showed the cruiser's speed 87 milesper hour.The pilot increased his speed, moving to a position perhaps a halfmile ahead of the cruiser.The bus was not in sight.From a seat next to thepilot, a newswoman provided commentary.Abruptly the shot changed to show one of the police choppers moving toward thecamera.Via a radio-camera hookup, the viewers could hear the police chopperordering the TV chopper back to Little Rock.They could also see a gun of somesort, seemingly an assault rifle, being used to gesture from the door.Theview swung away westward as the TV chopper started for home, shepherded by oneof the other police aircraft.* * *Race played little or no part in Governor Marius Cook's hostility toward Dove.He'd grown up in his parents' church, an Ozark Baptist congregation with anold antislavery tradition.They may not have considered blacks as good aswhites, but even then they'd regarded them as human beings, God's children,not to be bought or sold.Today he sat in his office with his aide and his pastor, watching the wallscreen intently."Everett," the governor said to his aide, "what is thatstupid sonofabitch doing, waving that gun out the helicopter door like thatfor the whole world to see? Iexplicitly ordered that everything was supposed to look cool!"It seemed to Everett Miller the answer was obvious: in an operation involvingthat many people, some were likely to screw up.He did not, however, pointthis out.He was worried, wondering if Marius Cook hadn't bitten off more thanhe could chew.For two weeks, Everett had been keeping up with the TV highlights of what thenewspeople were calling "the Messianic Procession," and he couldn't helpwondering if Dove wasn't what so many people now claimed he was.Or hoped hewas.Everett didn't mention that either.He'd learned not to disagree openly withMarius on anything to do with religion.In other matters, he could and didlevel with the governor selectively.He and Marius Cook had been boyhoodfriends, himself the elder.Later they'd overlapped for two years at the U.ofA., from which Everett Miller had graduated in public management with honors,and a minor in political science.Marius had squeaked through in law, and by dint of hard work he'd always beengood at that had passed the bar exam on his third try, which was respectable
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