Known Dead (19 page)

We were quiet for a few seconds.

‘‘Why in the hell did they shoot Rumsford?’’ asked Hester.

That was the question, all right. We were right back to that. Something had gone really wrong. Big time. What? Whatever could have possessed them to shoot the representative they’d requested, the man to whom they wished to present their side of the problem, the vehicle who was to get their story out? Of all people.

I’m not especially known for either introspection or self-doubt. But this whole thing was beginning to get to me. What was I doing wrong? Honest to God, I never thought they’d shoot Phil. Not in a million years. But they had, and he was dead. Great decision, Carl. Great. Now I thought we should go in and get the whole bunch. If I was right, that’d be 50 percent for the day. They said a good executive was right about 33 percent of the time. Not good odds for my being right. Well, maybe I was just tired. ‘‘Maybe I’m just not too good at this,’’ I said to myself. I was in no mood to argue.

‘‘What?’’ asked George.

‘‘Just talking to myself.’’

‘‘Don’t start that,’’ said Hester.

Al came back about then. His face was red, and he had a disgusted look about him.

‘‘So what’s the word?’’ I asked.

‘‘The AG wants to talk to the governor. They’re going to have to ‘make a far-reaching policy decision,’ or something like that.’’

‘‘Great.’’

‘‘And he said it could take some time.’’

‘‘Well,’’ I said. ‘‘Well.’’ I took a deep breath. ‘‘That’s that, then.’’

George was getting a very worried look on his face. ‘‘Do you want me to call my people?’’

‘‘Not just yet,’’ I said. ‘‘Give me a few minutes.’’ I started to walk toward the perimeter. ‘‘Let’s look the scene over,’’ I said. ‘‘I might have an idea.’’

I had an idea, all right. But it sure wouldn’t stand a vote. We walked in silence toward the perimeter fence. When we got there, I just kept going down the path to the house.

‘‘Where are you going?’’ asked George.

‘‘To get the job done,’’ I answered. ‘‘I believe it’s time for the ‘deceive and detain’ phase. It’ll just take a minute. Anybody want to come along?’’

‘‘The what?’’ George hadn’t spent much time in the Winnebago.

We all were sort of committed to do something. I kept thinking about what Roger had said about guilt building up in Herman Stritch, and how he was about to understand that it was all over. Maybe. But the killing of Rumsford had to have done something in that house.

‘‘The what?’’ asked George, again. A1 answered him this time.

‘‘I think we’re going to go get Herman,’’ he said. ‘‘Looks like we are.’’

So we all continued walking down the lane. Me, Hester, A1, and George. Right by the junk pile. Right past the shed. Right past the TAC people. Right toward Rumsford’s body. Nobody said a word, but the breathing was getting a bit harder as we got closer to the house.

Finally, as we were just about to Rumsford’s body, George said, in a perfectly conversational tone of voice, ‘‘I certainly hope you know what you’re doing . . .’’

A voice cried out from the house. ‘‘Halt! Stop right there!’’

We’d caught them napping.

We stopped. ‘‘You guys stay here,’’ I said. ‘‘Anything happens, take ’em out.’’

‘‘Oh, right,’’ said Hester. ‘‘Like, we huff and puff?’’

I grinned at her. ‘‘Sounds like a plan.’’ I turned back toward the house. ‘‘Herman!’’ I yelled. ‘‘I’m coming onto the porch!’’ I looked at Hester. ‘‘Come with me, and just play along. You’re an insurance agent.’’

‘‘What? Carl, what? What insurance agent are you talking about?’’

We walked past Rumsford’s body, and I glanced at it. He’d fallen on his right side, and there was a very large bloodstain on the ground. Heart must have kept beating for a little while, I thought. Lot of blood. Damn. ‘‘Surprised me, too,’’ I muttered, as I passed him.

The gray paint on the porch steps was chipped pretty badly. Just as my foot touched the bottom step, Herman’s voice said, ‘‘Stop there, Carl.’’ He sounded pretty calm, but there was an edge to him. Good.

‘‘Shit’s gonna stop right now, Herman,’’ I said, pleasantly surprised by the steadiness of my voice. ‘‘I’ve had it.’’

Silence.

‘‘I’m coming up further, Herman. What I got to say, I don’t want to shout.’’

‘‘Put your gun down.’’

I’d forgotten about my damn gun. At least, it was pretty obvious to Herman, in its holster. That was good.

‘‘Sure, Herman. If you put yours down.’’ I took another step, and stopped. ‘‘You stay here,’’ I said softly to Hester. ‘‘Don’t forget you’re an insurance agent.’’

‘‘Watch what I’m doing,’’ I said to Herman. ‘‘You do the same.’’ I unsnapped my holster and pulled out my .40 caliber Smith & Wesson. I pointed it upward, and pressed the magazine release. The magazine slid out the bottom, and I took it in my left hand, and sat it carefully on the floor of the porch. Then, with the gun still in my right hand, I pulled the slide back with my left and caught the ejected cartridge with the same hand. Plucked it right out of the air. I love to do that. I then placed the gun on the porch floor, locked in the open position. I picked up the magazine, replaced the ejected cartridge, and put it back on the porch. I straightened up. ‘‘Shove your magazine through the door, Herman.’’

I could barely see movement through the screen. It was very bright outside, and the house was very dark. But a moment later a .30 caliber carbine magazine slipped through the screen door.

‘‘There’s more people with guns behind me,’’ said Herman.

‘‘Me too, Herman.’’ I couldn’t resist a white lie. ‘‘With a couple of armored vehicles due in about an hour.’’

It was awfully quiet.

‘‘You hear me okay in there?’’ I asked Herman, in a normal tone of voice.

‘‘Yeah.’’

‘‘Okay, Herman. Listen real good. I’ve had it. You understand me?’’

‘‘Yeah.’’

‘‘So this is what’s gonna happen, Herman. You come out onto the porch now. Then your people in the house. One at a time. You got that?’’

‘‘I got it, but I ain’t gonna do it. I don’t want no more of your tricks.’’

‘‘Yeah, you are, Herman. You’re gonna do it, and there ain’t no tricks. I’m just tellin’ you to do this to clear us of all liability. I gotta clear the liability before our insurance will let us take the house with maximum force. The armored vehicles. You understand?’’

Silence.

‘‘Our insurance carrier is Lloyds of London. They know all about dealing with the IRA and all that. They know we gotta do what we gotta do. They know that if you don’t come out now, we’re comin’ in. You understand what I’m saying, Herman?’’

Silence.

‘‘The lady standing back here is the Lloyds representative for Iowa. She’s listening to this pretty close. You see that, Herman?’’

There was some hesitation, then: ‘‘Yeah.’’

‘‘Good. And I’m sure you understand what I just said. So, in fifteen seconds, the same amount of time the SAS gave the terrorists in London, you come out or we take out everybody in the house. Legal. No lawsuit. ’Cause I warned you.’’

I turned around toward Hester. ‘‘Is that enough, lady?’’

‘‘Uh, just a moment,’’ said Hester. She looked at her watch. ‘‘The time will start in twenty seconds,’’ she said.

‘‘Okay, ma’am,’’ I said. I turned back toward the door, and was startled to see it opening. Herman stuck his head out.

‘‘We’ll give up, but I can only answer for my family.’’ He spoke rapidly, nervously. That was good.

‘‘Is that all right with Lloyds?’’ I asked Hester, without turning.

‘‘Acceptable,’’ she said tersely.

‘‘Come on,’’ said Herman. ‘‘It’s over.’’

Herman, his wife, his two sons, and a daughter-in-law slowly emerged from the dark interior of the house, and came onto the porch. All lightly dressed in dark clothes, looking hot, sweaty, and very nervous. None of them appeared armed, and this was no time to get bogged down in details. ‘‘Okay, folks,’’ I said to the Stritches, as briskly as I could manage. ‘‘If you’ll go over to those two men, they’ll take you safely back to the lines. Do what they tell you, and you’ll be fine. And, please, don’t step on my gun, there . . .’’

Even though they weren’t quite sure what the hell was going on, Al and George were up to the occasion. They acted more like considerate tour guides than cops, as they ushered Herman Stritch and family back toward the line of officers. I did notice that only Mrs. Stritch looked down as they passed Rumsford’s body. I reached down and picked up my gun, and puffed up my cheeks, and blew out a whole lungful of air. Neither Hester nor I said a word. I inserted the single round back into the magazine, and quietly pushed it into the gun. I grinned at Hester, and she smiled back.

Our little moment of joy was interrupted by the sound of the back door slamming. Other forces were leaving the fort. Well, he’d said he was only responsible for his family. Hopefully, they’d be gathered up by the officers on the hill, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath.

‘‘Three, Comm?’’ I said into my walkie-talkie.

‘‘Three?’’

‘‘Comm, we have possible suspects leaving the farmhouse, probably going west. Notify the officers on the back side of the property.’’ I said this as Hester and I headed around the corner of the house. By the time I got to the backyard, Hester was ahead of me, and ducking. As she hit the ground, I ducked too, more or less out of respect for her judgment. I just caught a glimpse of a camouflaged man disappearing into the corn, and a tall figure in a camouflage battle dress, complete with turkey netting over his face, swinging what looked for the world like an FN/FAL rifle toward us.

‘‘Ten-four, Three.’’

Ten-four, hell, I thought, as I hit the ground.

He didn’t fire. I mean, it wasn’t like he had to or anything. He’d just stopped us with a gesture.

He disappeared into the corn at the base of the hill. I couldn’t tell for sure, but I thought there was more than one. I wasn’t about to stand up and find out.

‘‘They’re armed,’’ I gasped into my radio. ‘‘Ten-thirty-two.’’

‘‘Ten-four, Three.’’ Calm, dispassionate. What we paid her for. If only it didn’t sound quite so much like she was bored . . .

Two deputies and two troopers came flying around the corner of the house.

‘‘Two suspects, armed!’’ hollered Hester. ‘‘Both into the cornfield.’’

Three members of the state TAC team rounded the corner a moment later, having come from their positions in the outbuildings. Two of them immediately went into the corn. The other, along with the four uniformed officers, took up overwatch positions back from the edge of the field.

A few seconds later, I stood up cautiously and backed up a bit, and sat on the porch steps. ‘‘Just too tired to chase ’em,’’ I said to Hester.

‘‘Me too,’’ she said, standing at the foot of the steps, looking into the house. ‘‘But I’m not going to sit until I know they’re all gone.’’

I sighed. ‘‘You’re right.’’ I stood and picked up my walkie-talkie again. ‘‘Comm, Three, get a team here to help us go through the house, will you?’’ I looked at Hester again. ‘‘ ‘Acceptable,’ for Christ’s sake. You are great, there’s no doubt.’’

‘‘You’re no slouch yourself. But next time, tell me what the fuck’s going on, all right?’’

‘‘I always tell you, just as soon as I know,’’ I said. With more truth there than I’d care to admit.

The remaining TAC officer came up. ‘‘What do you think?’’

‘‘I think,’’ I said, still a little breathless and drenched in sweat, ‘‘you’d better get your guys back out of the corn . . . or at least slow ’em up. The one I saw looks real hazardous.’’

‘‘They both do,’’ said Hester. ‘‘I’d get a K-9 team.’’

‘‘Any idea who they are?’’ he asked. We shook our heads.

After a few seconds, I just couldn’t help myself . . . ‘‘You gonna say it?’’

‘‘Say what?’’

I gestured toward the cornfield where the man had disappeared. ‘‘Him . . .’’

She got it. ‘‘Oh, no.’’ She groaned. ‘‘No, no fuckin’ way, man. No.’’

The TAC man was talking on his portable, but was catching our conversation, and looking at us strangely.

‘‘Come on . . .’’

‘‘Never.’’ She was giggling. ‘‘You’re gonna have to do it yourself.’’

I looked her right in the eye. ‘‘Who was that masked man?’’

‘‘God, Houseman. You have no pride.’’

Whoever the ‘‘masked man’’ was, he and his partner were in a cornfield of some eighty acres, about twice as long as it was wide, which was bounded on one end and one side by a large, heavily wooded hill, which bumped into a string of hills. One side was bordered by a curving gravel road. At the other end of the field was the Stritch house.

We put people on the road, and at the Stritch end. We had a couple of people going onto the hill at the far end, but there was no way that we could put people in the center in a hurry.

Whoever the two were, they had to be pretty damned uncomfortable. It was well over ninety degrees, brightly sunny, and as humid as I’ve ever felt it. In an eight-foot-tall green cornfield, there isn’t a breath of air. It’s even more humid, if possible, because of the wetly green plants. I don’t think it’s actually possible to suffocate in one, but you sure feel like you’re going to. Especially if you’re lying still after exerting yourself. You can’t hear anything further away than ten feet or see anything further than five. Not a pleasant place, especially with a TAC team and a K-9 team after you.