'You mean— You can't—"
"Moxon!" Elkins shouted, using the CID man's name to give him a second shock. "Shut up and listen! You want to stay alive!"
All four crowded through the doorway, Moxon backward, the color draining from his face. He was a craggy rangy man, a little over the hill, who kept himself in shape and hadn't known anything like this could happen to him.
Parker's gloves were off now, the Remington cocked as he pushed it past Elkins into Moxon's stomach, saying, "Call Hayes. Tell him to show his face."
"I—I'm alone here," Moxon stammered.
Elkins slapped Moxon's military hat off with the barrel of the automatic. He was the one being dangerous, unpredictable. "Do we look stupid?" he demanded. "We know your names, the two of you."
Wiss shut the door, and Parker poked Moxon in the stomach again with the barrel of the Remington. "It's just as easy for us," he said, "we work in here, without you alive."
"Easier," Elkins said, and laid the automatic against Moxon's left cheek.
'There are law officers," Moxon said, and started again, "this is secure, there are law officers all over this mountain."
Parker said, "That's how we got in here." He looked past Moxon at the room, a large, broad, wood-walled place with brick floor and brass wall sconces, several coats hanging on a row of wooden dowels along the back, over a broad rough-timber bench, boots of various kinds under the bench, wide doorways open on both sides. He called, "Hayes! Come out now, or we shoot Moxon, and then come in for you."
Lloyd's little voice said, "I just told him help's on the way."
Elkins laughed. "Come out, Hayes!" he cried. "You're done with your phone call! Oley oley in free!"
Moxon, sounding worried, said, "Phone call?"
Wiss stood to one side, his Remington loose in his hands, pointed at the brick floor. He was the calm one. "It was a friend of ours," he said, "who just told Hayes that help was on the way. He lied. Every message you send out of here, phone, e-mail, whatever you want, goes to our friend and nobody else."
"So there's no reason to stall," Parker said.
Moxon looked at him. He considered Parker's face a long time, not as though to remember it for some lineup farther down the road but as though to read the truth there, whatever it might turn out to be. Then, still looking at Parker, he angled his head back a bit and called, "Bert, come on out. The criminals have returned to the scene of the crime."
6
The second lawman was also in jeans and flannel shirt and boots. This one, Bert Hayes from Washington, was a sandy-haired, short, angry-looking man in his mid-forties who came through the doorway on the right with his hands held out in front of himself, arms spread wide and palms forward, not as though he were surrendering or showing himself without weapons but as though he were making a point in an ongoing argument: You see? You understand now? What he said, in a raspy aggravated voice, was, 'There isn't one fucking thing you people are going to accomplish around here."
Parker stepped back, to cover them both with the Remington. With a look at Elkins and a nod toward the lawmen, he said, "De-fang."
"Right."
Elkins went in a half-circle, to get around Moxon and
Hayes without being in the line of fire from either Wiss or Parker. Putting his own .38 away, he patted down first Moxon, finding a small hip-holster pistol, and then Hayes, bringing out another small pistol, this one from an ankle holster. 'That's all."
Parker said, "No cuffs?"
"No." Elkins shrugged. "There's closets."
Moxon, sounding surprisingly mild beside the glowering Hayes, said, 'You're the people who broke in last time."
Grinning, Elkins said, "Naw. We just saw your light."
'The thing is," Moxon said, "there's a hidden room in this place somewhere, and we've been going nuts trying to find it."
'Three rooms," Wiss said.
Both lawmen were surprised at that. 'There can't be," Hayes said. 'That's like hiding a tank in your backyard."
Moxon said, "I'm beginning to think you people've been keeping tabs on us."
Parker wanted to get this thing moving. He said, "What's your point?"
'You'll lock us in a room or tie us up or whatever," Moxon said. "I don't think you'll kill a peace officer if you don't have to, and you won't have to, and you figure those moustaches and glasses can confuse identification just enough, so we'll cooperate. If we see a chance in our favor, naturally, we'll take it."
"Fucking A," Hayes said.
Wiss said, 'That's all we'd expect. You take care of yourselves, we take care of ourselves, nobody gets hurt."
"All I ask," Moxon said, "is to know where the hidey-hole is."
Elkins laughed. "It really got to you," he said.
Wiss said, 'That's okay. Somewhere down there is where we'd stash you anyway." Looking at Parker, seeing his impatience, he said, "It's okay. It keeps everybody calm, and it moves us along. We're going down there anyway."
'Then let's go."
Moxon and Hayes looked at Elkins, who said, "We come in last time from the other side. There's a hall off a big dining room, with a flight of stairs down to the basement."
"We've been down there a lot," Moxon said.
Elkins said, "Well, we'll go again. You first, then me, then Bert, then my friends."
Moxon nodded, and they trooped through the house, all white and pale green and gold, more Versailles than hunting lodge, and down the broad wood stairs to the carpeted main room of the basement, where the empty wooden cartons to transport the paintings leaned in a row against the wall. Open doorways to left and right showed storage rooms full of magpie keepings. Soft fluorescent ceiling lights gave an even greenish gold illumination.
When they were all down the stairs, Elkins said to Moxon, "Come on over here. Stand right there. Look at the carpet. Along there."
Moxon, not knowing what he was supposed to be looking at, stood where Elkins had put him and frowned at the floor. He switched his frown to Elkins, who only grinned at him and raised an eyebrow, and then he frowned at the floor again, until all at once his eyes widened and he said, "Son of a bitch!"
"Roy?" Hayes said. "What is it?"
Moxon said to Elkins, "Can he have a look?"
"Sure," Elkins said. "It's a bonus prize."
Parker wanted to get moving here, but he knew what Elkins was doing, and why. Keep the customer calm, keep him from feeling desperate, from feeling he has to find a way out of this. It would pay off later, but it was an irritation now.
Hayes moved over to stand where Moxon had been, with Moxon now just to his left, but no matter how long Hayes glared at the floor he didn't see what the others were talking about until Moxon gently said, "Bert, look at the nap of the carpet. Look at the line."
"Well, Jesus Christ," Hayes said, seeing it at last. "It's a goddam Indian trail!" He looked at the blank wall where the trail stopped. 'That's supposed to be mountain back there," he said. "Solid rock."
"It's solid, all right," Elkins said, and in Parker's ear Lloyd's tinny voice said, "We got trouble."
Parker and Elkins and Wiss all got very alert. Parker said, "What trouble?"
Moxon and Hayes looked at him, not getting it, while Lloyd said, 'There's an FBI man in Dallas has to talk to Hayes."
"Dallas," Elkins said. "Griffith."
The lawmen turned now to look at Elkins.
Lloyd said, "I've been deflecting him, trouble on the line, but it won't work much longer. Anything else I can deal with, but not a phone call."
Parker said to Elkins, "Speakerphone."
Elkins shrugged. "I wouldn't know."
Parker turned to Moxon and Hayes. 'You'll know," he said. "And this is your chance to keep yourself alive."
'There's an office by the front door," Moxon said, "has a speakerphone."
"I remember that room," Wiss said.
Parker said, 'That's where we go."
The five trooped upstairs, in the same order as before, and
turned toward the front of the house, as Lloyd's voice sounded in Parker's ear, now with a trace of panic: 'This guy's talking about sending state troopers from Havre. I've really got to let him through."
'Two minutes," Parker told him. "Can you change your voice? Be your own supervisor."
"Oh, God, I don't know," Lloyd said. "Let me see what I can do."
The five walked through the ground floor of the sprawling house, coming at last to a good-sized office with copier and computer and wall maps of the area and a large partner's desk with a green felt inlaid top and antique swivel chairs on both sides, and the phone. They all crowded in, and Parker said to Elkins, 'Take Roy into the hall, sit him on the floor where we can see him. If you hear one wrong word from Bert, shoot off
his basket" Turning, he said, "Bert, move that chair back from the desk, middle of the room. When the phone rings, answer it, put it on speaker then, come sit down in the chair."
"Who's calling me?" Hayes asked, as Elkins positioned Moxon outside the door.
"He'll tell you," Parker said, and told Lloyd, "We're ready."
Lloyd must have been busy with the call from Dallas, because he didn't answer, but less than a minute later the phone chirped. With an eye on Parker, Hayes picked up the receiver, said, "Hayes," then, "Hold on, let me put you on the speaker."
He pushed that button, hung up, and stepped back toward the desk chair in the middle of the room as a metallic voice filled the space: T think we may be buying a break at last in this thing."
Hayes rubbed his forehead. He seemed uncertain what to do. From where he sat, he could see the phone, he could see Moxon seated on the floor in the front hall and Elkins holding the Remington on him, and he could see Wiss and Parker both pointing pistols at his own head.
The metallic voice said, "You there?"
Hayes sighed. "Sorry," he said. "You were agent— agent—"
"Catlett. You still having phone trouble there?"
"Uhh ... We been having phone trouble?"
"I've been trying to reach you people fifteen, twenty minutes."
"I had no idea."
"Well, here's the thing. The antique dealer Griffith, that you had up your way for a while?"
"Yeah?"
"He's on his way to Austin right now, with his lawyer, to make a statement."
Hayes made a what-now shrug toward Moxon and said, "What kind of statement?"
Agent Cadett said, "His lawyer contacted the federal prosecutor in Dallas this morning, floated the idea of Griffith flipping. He'll give us Marino, who it looks like has been doing a lot of stuff he shouldn't, if there's no jail time in it for Griffith."
Hayes said, "Can they make that deal?"
"Nobody knows yet," Cadett said, "but nobody really needs to lean on Griffith, he's just the errand boy, so it should be able to work. And it looks like it would include the whereabouts of Marino's stash up there, that room nobody can find."
Hayes and Moxon exchanged a look. 'That's great news," Hayes said, but he didn't sound sincere.
Cadett apparently didn't hear the hollowness in Hayes's answer. He said, "We're anticipating the deal with Griffith will work out. We've already asked the Italian police to hold on to Marino, and we've got evidence people on the way to you right now from Helena, should be there by two this afternoon."
Three hours.
Hayes said, "Looking forward to them. Who's in charge?"
"Inspector Winnick. One of yours, from ATF."
"I know Winnick," Hayes said. "Be happy to see him."
"In the meantime," Catlett said, "the bureau thinks it's best you make contact with the state police in Havre, ask them to send some people up, secure the area."
Parker pointed at Hayes, and shook his head.
Hayes said, "Is that really necessary? Inspector Moxon and I pretty well have the place under control."
"It's no reflection on you," Catlett assured him. "Sog just wants to nail it down, now that we've got Griffith turning."
With a helpless shrug toward Parker, Hayes said, "Well, if that's the decision."
"A state CID man named Elwood is in Havre now," Catlett said, "waiting for your call."
'Then I'd better call him," Hayes said. 'Thanks for the heads-up."
"My pleasure," Catlett said.
Parker stepped forward and hit the button to end the call. They all looked at one another.
Moxon said, "I'm sorry, friends, but your parade has been cancelled."
7
Parker, moving, said, "Bert, on your feet, into the hall. Roy, stay on the floor, down on your face. Bert, beside him. Hands behind your backs."
They both obeyed, though Moxon mildly said, "It's no good, you know. Another couple minutes, nobody's heard from us, nobody can get through, they'll be right up here. You don't have three hours."
'That's my problem," Parker told him. Holding the Remington one-handed, he pointed at Wiss: 'Tie them." Pointed at Elkins: "Get your friends and the car. Tell them what's going on."
Neither Wiss nor Elkins bothered to speak. Wiss went to one knee between the two prone men, drawing lengths of household electric cord from his pocket, tying wrists and then ankles. He started with Moxon, who lay silent, having already made the point he wanted to make. Hayes, when Wiss started, said, "Jesus, that's tight"
"Has to be, to be any good," Wiss told him. "Everybody knows that."
As Wiss got to his feet, Parker gestured to him to move away down the hall. He left the Remington, leaning it against the wall, then said, as they walked, "How long to get into the gallery?"
Wiss looked very doubtful. "Oh, man, with this time pressure? We should've brought grenades."
"We're not leaving here empty-handed," Parker told him, "and we're not carrying out gold toilets."
"So we'll take a look at it."
As they hurried down the basement stairs, Wiss said, "Last time, once we found the door and busted into it, turned out, it had a kind of electric lock on it, you'd use a remote like for a garage door, but we didn't see any remote. Well, we didn't look that much, we were already in there by then."
They stood by the wall where the faint trail in the carpet ended. It was featureless, extending ten feet from a corner rightward to the entrance to the wine cellar, a deep narrow parquet-floored room with bottles in copper racks on the left side and a combination of racks and refrigerators on the right. Beyond the depth of a wine bottle, on the left, was the side wall to the gallery area.
Standing in the wine cellar doorway, Parker said, "It could be anything. It has to be near, but it could be anything. It could be one of those bottles, it could be you step on one special parquet tile. Or it could be something in one of these other storage rooms all around here."
'That's why we went in hard last time," Wiss said. Upstairs, a phone rang. "I was supposed to have an hour, two hours, this time around. This isn't breaking a window."
Parker moved slowly along the blank wall, sliding his hand along it. T can feel the seam," he said. "You can't see it, but you can feel it."
"A beautiful snug fit," Wiss said. "You gotta admire the workmanship."
"Can you make a hole in it?"
Wiss brought a small portable drill out of his orange coat, felt the wall, found the seam, and the drill started to whine. Ten seconds later Wiss stopped, shaking his head, stepping back. "No good," he said. Upstairs, the phone still rang. "Last time, the door was metal, but not like this. This, under the paint here, this is stainless steel."
'The wall beside it?"
The drill whined again, and again Wiss stepped back. "Concrete," he said. The phone had stopped ringing. "If I had half an hour," Wiss said, "I could make a hole. An hour to get in." He looked disgusted. "We came a long way, Parker," he said, "but we ain't getting in there."
The job was going to hell. Law coming, law in residence, Griffith the potential customer talking to the prosecutors, and a stainless-steel door. "Your firebreak works," Parker said.
Wiss said, "Larry?"
"Well," Wiss said, "he's right."
Parker said, "I know he is. Come on."
They turned toward the stairs, and Wiss said, 'There'll be some swag in the house, pay our expenses."
"Hold it right there."
They stopped, both looking up, and slowly down the stairs came Elkins, looking disgusted. Behind him, peering over his shoulder, was the guy who'd braced them up by the car. Bob. Up there, he'd been everybody's pal, just going to wait up there, not horn in on anybody's play, just wait for his former partners Wiss and Elkins to get into the lodge and back out. Now he was something else, tense and wary, crouched behind Elkins, left hand on Elkins' left shoulder, right hand showing a Colt automatic next to Elkins' right ear, the two of them stopped halfway down the stairs. 'Just hold it there," Bob repeated. "Ralph? You through that door?"
"Can't be done, Bob," Wiss said.
Parker took a step sideward, away from Wiss, but Bob reacted big to the movement, waggling the Colt, saying, "No no, pal, stay right there, I like you two together." To Wiss he said, "Whadaya mean, you can't? That's our money in there, too, you know. Or did you decide, it's easier, just get rid of Harry and me."
Not answering that, Wiss said, "It's stainless steel, Bob, in a concrete wall. We don't have the time. We got cops coming."
"Like I told him," Elkins said. He sounded as disgusted as he looked.
Bob said, "Not good enough, Ralph. Harry and me, we broke bail, we're hangin in space out here, we need that stake."
Parker said, "We'll leave it to you, it's all yours."
"Har, har," Bob said, not as though anything were funny. "Ralph's the lockman, aren't you, Ralph? Get through the fucking door!"
"I'll never do it before the cops get here," Wiss said.
"Then Harry and me, we're fucked anyway," Bob told him, "we're going down anyway, might as well have you guys for company." He gave Elkins a slight push, to encourage him to go down to the foot of the stairs. "Here's the situation," he said. "Harry's upstairs. He hears a shot, that means you birds probably outdrew me, so anybody goes up these stairs is dead. So you're here, until that door opens or the law walks in, so Ralph, you oughta quit wasting time."
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