Known Dead_ A Novel - Donald Harstad [140]
At 1105, Volont arrived. Just after he pulled up, Nichols came into the lot. Volont was in the suit of the day, whereas Nichols was in blue jeans and a light blue golf shirt. They ignored each other, passing through the door about a minute apart, Volont in the lead.
As soon as they got inside, they headed for my office. I joined them.
Nichols wasn’t so much excited as simply running in high gear.
‘‘We’ve got two suspects in the City Campground,’’ he said. ‘‘Silver aluminum trailer, came in last night. Put up a dish antenna they said was a new type of TV satellite dish, but my guys in the park say it’s a military radio of some kind.’’
‘‘Okay,’’ I said. I wanted to ask just how they knew that, but I didn’t.
‘‘The media are already set up at the courthouse,’’ he continued, ‘‘and we think they’ve already been scouting there. One male, one female, thirties—we’ll have photos shortly—were asking questions in the media group. A little weird, like if there was a back door.’’
‘‘Hell,’’ I said, ‘‘you can see the back door through the front door. They’re both glass and they’re at opposite ends of the hall . . .’’
‘‘They were asking about upstairs,’’ he said. ‘‘Where the courtroom is.’’
I knew where the courtroom was, thank you very much. But he was wound up, and it was okay.
‘‘Security’s pretty impressive down there,’’ he said. ‘‘Lots of it and obvious as hell. Troopers and deputies everywhere you look.’’
‘‘Are we overdoing it?’’ I asked.
‘‘No,’’ said Volont, speaking for the first time. ‘‘I’ve just come from there. It’s a deterrent, just like we want it to be. The contrast between there and here is marked, and that’s what we want.’’
‘‘So,’’ I said, ‘‘we think they’ll do it today?’’
‘‘A high probability,’’ said Volont.
The transfer of Nola to the courthouse went without a hitch. She was safely in the building at 1121.
The hearing began at 1130. I wasn’t there, but those who were said that Nola kept referring to jurisdictions. In fact, at one point she refused to participate because the U.S. flag by the bench had fringe on it. She claimed that it was an Admiralty flag, and that she was not under the jurisdiction of an Admiralty Court. Right.
I was up at the jail, waiting for Nola’s return. That’s when I expected the shit to hit the fan. I was out on the front steps, avoiding Volont, who had taken over my office for his phone calls, and was sort of looking out of the corner of my eye, to see if I could locate somebody from the special team. I was armed with a cold can of pop in my hand. Now that the sun was out, the little valley where Maitland nestled was developing little patches of fog, especially along the Sparrow River, which runs through the center of the town. It was beautiful. Hot, uncomfortable, but beautiful. I looked at my watch. 1157. The hearing would have been recessed by now, I thought, unless the judge thought he could get it over with in the next thirty minutes. Personally, I’d feel a lot better if we could get Nola back in the jail, no matter what Gabriel had planned. The place was like a fort. I understood that the military sort of made a living of taking forts, but I’d still feel better.
As in so many midwestern towns, the fire sirens went off precisely at noon. You live in tornado country, you like to know they work.
The siren was just winding down then I heard a metallic clang and a booming sound at the same time. Quite some distance away, but with the buildings and the valley, you couldn’t tell where the sound had come from. I listened carefully on my portable but there was no traffic at all. I took another drink of my pop, and the fire sirens started up again. Kept on cycling, up and down, about ten seconds per cycle. Fire.
I turned and started into the building.
‘‘Twenty-five, Maitland!’’ came over the radio. Dispatch calling the local officer.
‘‘Go ahead!’’ He was excited. Always was when there was a fire.
‘‘Small explosion at Farm and Field, possible anhydrous ammonia leaks from damaged tanks!’’
Damn. They were at the lower end of town, almost on the edge, but the light breeze would carry