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• Classic-Fiction

There was a young trooper I didn’t know guarding the Winnebago’s door. He stopped me.

‘‘Excuse me, but this is a restricted area.’’

I smiled. ‘‘That’s okay, I’m in charge.’’

‘‘I doubt that very much,’’ he said evenly. ‘‘Why don’t you just move along.’’

I reached in my back pocket and pulled out my badge and ID. ‘‘Carl Houseman, senior officer present for the Nation County Sheriff’s Department. Like I said, I’m in charge.’’

‘‘I wasn’t told that,’’ he said, not budging.

‘‘Well,’’ I sighed, ‘‘things have been pretty busy around here today. I suspect nobody thought to tell you. Until now. I just did.’’

‘‘I’m sorry, Deputy. I have no instructions to let you inside.’’

I looked over my shoulder for Hester and Al. Nobody.

‘‘Look, son. I’m really tired, and I want to talk to Roger in there about something very, very important. I know you’re doing your job as well as you can. I’m not pissed off at you, but I’m gettin’ a little testy at whoever put you here. Understand?’’

No answer, just a determined look.

‘‘So,’’ I said, ‘‘before I wander off and kill the first thing I see with stripes on its sleeve, maybe you could just ask Roger if it’s okay with him if I come in?’’

He paused just a second, and then opened the door, stuck his head in, and asked. Two seconds after that, I was climbing into the air-conditioned comfort of the Winnebago Command Center. In my soaked condition, it was freezing cold. It felt wonderful, and I had visions of ice-coated mosquitoes falling off my raincoat. Uttering little gaspy screams.

Roger was toward the rear, with a phone board, three TV monitors, and a large cup of coffee. He smiled when he saw me.

‘‘Sorry you had a problem there,’’ he said.

‘‘This is heaven,’’ I replied, ‘‘and I can see why you don’t want a crowd.’’ I looked the place over. ‘‘So what’s up with Herman?’’

‘‘Well, not a lot right now. Most of them are asleep, I believe.’’

‘‘Good idea.’’ I reached over to the pot, and poured some coffee into a cup. I heard the door open, and felt as much as saw Hester and Al climbing into the camper.

‘‘So,’’ I said, more to get my mind working than anything else, ‘‘just where are we at here?’’

‘‘Well,’’ said Roger, ‘‘these things come in stages. Right now, it’s in the ‘after the fact’ stage, and we have Herman experiencing dullness and disappointment. Things just aren’t happening the way he wants, and he’s exhausted, in other words.’’

‘‘Sure,’’ I said.

‘‘We have to be careful right now, so that he doesn’t progress to despair and dismay. That’s dangerous.’’ He sipped his coffee. ‘‘Or it can be.’’

‘‘I see.’’ I took a drink too. ‘‘So what’s the plan?’’

‘‘We have to try to maneuver him into defeat and debilitation. The stage where he feels like he has to just give up.’’

‘‘Of course. Is that going to be hard to do?’’

‘‘Not with enough time. Or if something else happens that affects his outlook.’’

‘‘Like?’’ I asked, sipping more coffee.

‘‘It’s hard to tell,’’ he said. ‘‘Could be anything. I read about a case once where a barricaded suspect’s mother’s picture just fell off the wall. He gave up immediately.’’

‘‘No shit?’’

‘‘Yeah. I read about another one where the suspect felt that he was getting all bound up, you know, with his bowels. Thought it would kill him, so he gave up.’’

‘‘Just so he could take a crap?’’

‘‘Yep,’’ he said, grinning. ‘‘Neat, isn’t it?’’

‘‘Sure is.’’

‘‘But you have to be very careful,’’ he said, his voice getting serious. ‘‘They can go right into denial and distress. If that happens, they get really violent sometimes.’’

‘‘Oh.’’

‘‘Then, sometimes, they go into a phase where they’re just doubtful and distant, and they sort of . . .’’

‘‘Dither?’’ I asked.

‘‘Sort of. But they’re vulnerable then, if you can get to them.’’

‘‘Fascinating business, isn’t it?’’ I asked. I was waking up. Probably just the coffee.

‘‘Oh, yes, it is,’’ he said, all enthused.

I noticed a little sign above his TV monitors. ‘‘Display Dominance.’’ Cute.

‘‘So,’’ asked Hester, ‘‘where are you