Known Dead_ A Novel - Donald Harstad [143]
Unless, of course, I stood up. Hardly a viable option.
I tried the radio again. This time I got an answer.
‘‘Where are you?’’
‘‘I’m in the courtroom with Nola and Sally and we are being shot at!’’
‘‘Repeat.’’
I did.
‘‘Three, I’m not sure I understand you.’’
I said it a third time, slowly. Nola chuckled, and Sally glared at her.
‘‘Got it!’’ said Dispatch. ‘‘Help’s on the way.’’
God, I said to myself, I sure hope so.
‘‘Give up, Deputy,’’ boomed a voice from the hallway. ‘‘Come on out with your hands up.’’
‘‘Not on your life, asshole!’’ I shouted.
I was watching the edge of the jury box and trying to keep my eye on the little gate at the same time. I could feel myself getting tense, and felt the pulse in my neck throbbing against my shirt collar.
A head in a ski mask popped up right where I had my gun pointed, just at the intersection of the barrier and the jury box. I fired, and he ducked. I half stood, and fired six or seven more times, through the barrier, and to where I thought he’d be.
The firing was deafening, and slightly stunning in the confined area of the courtroom. The resulting silence was just as bad. Nothing for several seconds. Then the voice boomed out again.
‘‘Use a frag grenade, Ted!’’
Nola saved our lives. ‘‘No!’’ she screamed. ‘‘No, Gabe. It’s me!’’
‘‘No grenade,’’ hollered Gabe. ‘‘No grenades.’’
Then silence.
I glanced at Nola. She had tears on her cheeks. Strange. Sally didn’t.
Time to stall.
‘‘Hey, Gabe!’’ I hollered. ‘‘Good to talk to you again! Is Herman still alive?’’
‘‘Is this fucking Houseman?’’ he hollered back.
‘‘You got the first name wrong!’’ I answered, ‘‘But it’s me!’’
‘‘More cops comin’!’’ yelled Nola.
‘‘Sally,’’ I said, ‘‘shut her up for a while . . .’’
Honest, I thought that Sally would simply get on Nola’s case a bit. Instead, she pulled out her little can of pepper Mace and shot her in the face.
An ‘‘Ah!’’ followed by a honking noise, guttural choking sounds, slurping noises, wheezing, and one understandable phrase. ‘‘Fuckin’ bitch . . .’’
Well, I could sympathize. So too could Sally. The vapors were surrounding our little fort, and while most of the stuff had gone right into Nola’s face, both Sally and I were starting to tear up a little.
‘‘Jesus Christ, girl,’’ I muttered.
‘‘Works, don’t it?’’
‘‘Yeah, it does that.’’ I couldn’t help grinning. To myself.
‘‘Let her out, Houseman,’’ boomed the voice. ‘‘I don’t want to have to kill you.’’ There was a pause. ‘‘But I will.’’
I didn’t hear any cavalry coming.
‘‘I can’t do that!’’ I yelled. ‘‘You know that!’’
‘‘Don’t be a hero, Houseman!’’
Silence.
‘‘Hey, Gabe?’’ I yelled.
‘‘What?’’ boomed back.
I didn’t answer. I was looking at the little gate in the barrier, watching it move open a quarter of an inch at a time. Whoever it was, he was on his belly. I couldn’t see him, and wasn’t able to tell if he was on the left or the right of the door. I carefully aimed and fired a round at the gap. I nicked the edge of the door, slapping it back about ten inches until it contacted whoever was behind it. On the left. Sally jumped a foot.
‘‘Jesus!’’
The little door, now with a bent hinge, hung at an angle. No sign of movement behind it. I assumed that had been Ted back there. I expected he was a little further back now.
It was quiet again for a few seconds.
‘‘Three, Comm!’’ My walkie-talkie.
‘‘Go . . .’’ I hated the distraction, but I was also pretty damned anxious to be rescued.
‘‘Keep low,’’ she said, not quite certain what she was being told to say. ‘‘They say to keep low!’’
‘‘Okay,’’ I said, just as Sally let out a little yelp and fired the pistol.
I must have jumped a foot myself. Nola let out a scream, and covered her swollen face with her hands.
‘‘What the fuck!’’
‘‘Somebody at this door,’’ quavered Sally. She wasn’t so much scared as on an adrenaline rush. ‘‘I think I killed him,’’ she said, breathless.