The Big Thaw - Donald Harstad [140]
Always practical.
Captain Olinger came in. “You have a plan? I understand you have a plan …”
Lamar arrived a few moments later. I’d never been so glad to see him in my life, because I knew what was coming, and I honestly didn’t want the decision on my shoulders. We had another little impromptu get-together. The upshot was that, to pressure Gabe and to force his surrender, we had to take the bank. Volont really pressed Lamar, because it was Lamar’s decision. His primary jurisdiction.
“He’s a soldier, Sheriff. He is. He won’t kill just to be doing it. I know that. You know that. Once we take the bank, the whole reason for his whole operation is over. Done.”
Lamar looked at him for a moment, and then just walked off a few feet, stomping his good foot in the slush. “Carl, Hester, come here, will ya?”
We stood with him, nobody saying a word. Finally, he asked our opinion. “So, what do you think?”
“My best guess,” I said, “is this: He hasn’t hurt anybody on the boat or in the bank. We have no indication that he’s going to do bad things on the boat. Unless we do, I say wait him out.”
“I agree,” said Hester. “When he has to try to feed several hundred people out there on the water, he’s done. Forty-eight hours or less, and he just drops into our laps.”
“So, you don’t think we should try the bank, then?”
We both said, “No.”
“Unless he does something to the boat?”
Right.
“Even then, it depends on what he does. As sheriff, it’s my call.” Lamar was quiet for a few more seconds, and then he turned back to the FBI agent in charge. “Let it wait. Plan it, set it up, and then wait. It ain’t time, yet.”
I thought it was a fine decision.
We just got back into Hester’s office at the pavilion, when the phone rang. Sally made her now familiar “It’s Gabriel” signal, and put him on speaker phone.
“Let me speak to Volont.”
“This is Sheriff Ridgeway I think you’d better talk to me, first.”
“The sheriff himself. Well, this is an honor. What kept you?”
“Business,” said Lamar. “Why don’t you just knock off the shit, and give up. You know we ain’t gonna let your people out of the bank. You know you’re gonna have to give up the boat. Why prolong things?”
“I hate to disappoint you,” said the heavy voice, “but I have other plans.”
“We all got plans, son,” said Lamar. “Doesn’t mean a lot.”
Gabriel actually chuckled. “You’ve got balls, for a gimpy old fucker,” he said. “I think you’d give me a lot tougher time than Special Agent Volont.” The humor left his voice like he’d turned off a switch. “My plans tend to mean quite a bit,” he said. “Please direct your attention to the boat.” He broke the connection.
We looked. We couldn’t see anything farther back than the bow. Nothing.
Suddenly, there was a cloud of yellowish brown billowing up from inside the fog, and a distant thump that you could feel in your feet.
“Shit!” Lamar turned to Volont. “Get ’em to move on the bank,” he said.
Captain Olinger, the off-duty boat captain, rushed to the window.
“What? Who the hell is he?” asked Lamar. They hadn’t had time to be introduced, I explained as Olinger began to describe things.
“Watch her,” said the captain. “If she settles by the stern, that might be good. It looked like the smoke was from the port side, maybe aft of the paddle wheels… she should settle by the stern … yeah, see …”
It did look as if she was getting a little lower in the water, and I could have sworn I could see more of the surface of the decks than I could a few minutes ago.
There was a spreading stain on the water, emerging from the fog from the direction of the after portion of the Beauregard.
“Is that fuel coming out?” Lamar always worried about fires.
“I don’t think so … no,” said Captain Olinger. “What it looks like is sewage.”
“Sewage?” I was surprised.
“Yeah … there’s a ninety-four-hundred-gallon sewage tank, just above the propeller shafts, straddling two big void spaces… and it looks to me like she’s open to the river around void five and the engine room.”
“Is it sinking?” asked Lamar.
“Not yet,” said Captain Olinger. “Just a minute …”
There