I planned to spend every dime before I left the earth.The shower at 9AM helped me make some progress toward normalcy but the three cups of coffee did more. I debated whether to wear jeans, but decided a dress would be a better plan. Odds were at least one of the participants would have a photographer present. Politicians and Marty had that in common, they all like publicity.I kind of expected that the Reverend could do without it, but he had better get used to it. If he wanted to play in Tommy Thompson's game, there was going to be a price to pay. That price was to allow Tommy to squeeze the Reverend for all the photo ops possible.The meeting was at noon, only because Tommy had to get from the state capitol to Aster. Marty didn't know Tommy would be at the meeting, and I felt no need to tell him. Marty in general did not like politicians‭; I couldn't say that I blamed him, since they killed the cigarette industry. It was cigarettes that had made Marty rich. The kids got the farm, but. The venue was in a pretty village a couple of miles outside Keighley, in a jazzed-up manor house that usually catered for weddings, birthdays and funerals. Funerals? Danny grinned inwardly. Hmmm . . . He’d never been convinced anything would come out of a gathering like this, but the hundred per cent attendance could only be admired. Paddy had got every ‘crime boss’ in their end of the Aire Valley to come. There again he’d sold it as ‘be there or miss out’, so it was hardly surprising. And if nothing else, they’d all get to put faces to names. Paddy must have been on some management course. He had a whiteboard with an agenda on it, written in green felt pen. He’d also started to use words like ‘challenge’, ‘going forward’ and ‘our common objectives’. It was a relief to see that the agenda was in plain English and that he’d used everyday business headings: Areas, New Products . . . things like that. They wouldn’t be leaving anything incriminating behind them in ghostly writing. Danny.
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