A God in Ruins - Leon Uris [115]
“Folks, could I have your kind attention?” the loudspeaker boomed. “There’s a line of yellow cabs at the main entrance. They have been provided for your safety. If you feel you’ve had a couple of drinks too many, take one of these tipsy taxis. You will be delivered to your lodging without charge, compliments of the Colorado Tourist Board.”
A sweet and hurting voice continued singing. The revelers were beginning to get weary, soaked, and grow heavy-legged. Quick action by the police stopped a fight before punches were thrown. “Don’t you go looking at my wife that way.”
“Well, tell your wife not to look that way.”
The police nudged them into separate taxis.
As the wearies trod from the microsoftGRAND BALLROOM, the singer was closing out with slow dancing, loves lost, losers, loves strayed, loves betrayed, all in heartache three-quarter time.
“Ladies and gentlemen, fellows and gals. Shooters! Tomorrow night is the grand awards banquet…”
Could I have this dance,
For the rest of my life,
Will you be my partner,
Eeevverrry night!
“Give me the governor!”
“Quinn here.”
“Detective Solomon. Chad Murtha has turned off the freeway. He’s heading for 10101.”
“Hang on.”
Quinn, Mock, and Chin spread the map and returned to the phone. “Have your teams come in steadily on Petroleum Boulevard. Park your cars in the Colo Computers’ lot and proceed by foot three blocks east to Oakdale and Bancroft. Trooper Hap Cronin will be advised you are coming and will update you. And remember guys, no casualties if humanly possible.”
2330 Chad Murtha in blue Ford pickup stops before the gate at 10101 and flashes headlights. He drives immediately inside the gate, which remains open. In the next seven minutes, four vehicles driven by dealers are waved in by Chad. Gate is clicked shut. Vehicles drive to loading dock.
2340 Eighteen-wheeler bearing Old Milwaukee sign is buzzed in and maneuvers to loading dock.
2342 First units of Yancey Hawke’s people make connection with Hap Cronin. State troopers followed by guardsmen surround the entire chain-link fence, set up tear gas, spotlights and a loudspeaker system.
2343 The rear of the Old Milwaukee truck is opened.
Owner of Mercedes identified as Franz Friehoff, owner of the furniture outlet.
Franz Friehoff and Chad Murtha check off an order sheet.
“Morrison.”
“Here.”
“Seventeen pieces, seventeen thousand rounds.”
“Trinowski.”
“Right here.”
“Sixty-five pieces, sixty-five thousand rounds.”
“Here’s my own order,” Chad said. “I’ve got two hundred and seventy pieces. I’m buying the beers. I’ve been looked up by a dozen militias.”
“Spotlights!” Yancey Hawke ordered.
Friehoff’s warehouse and grounds lit up as though an astro from outer space were making an earth landing. Blinding!
“Now hear this!” Yancey Hawke boomed. “You people are surrounded and cannot escape. If you resist or open fire, we will shoot to kill!”
First to leap off the loading dock screaming, “Don’t shoot,” was Jessup Jensen, the trucker’s middle brother. He had run a few steps toward the gate when his younger brother Darren shot him in the back.
“First volley,” Yancey Hawke ordered.
A number of stun grenades arched over the fence, followed by a barrage of tear gas that hit the loading dock and crashed through the windows into the warehouse.
“Shall I bust open the gate, Colonel?”
“Hell, no, they are penned in. Just leave them penned in.”
It seemed that everyone among the gun runners reached for a weapon at the same time and appeared to be shooting at each other.
“Drop your weapons! Walk to the fence with your hands over your heads and stand, holding the fence facing us, or we will fire. This is not Waco or Ruby Ridge or the Montana Freemen! You have thirty seconds to raise a white flag. Anyone who tries to hide in the warehouse will not come out alive! You now have twenty seconds!”
2415 Mary Boedecker contacts Dawn Mock. The ballroom is an empty mess. Clean-up crew and a dozen security guards are it.
2425 Reb Butterworth