Lawmen of Rockabye County (Rockabye County Book Two)

by Edson, J. T.

  There was, however, more to ‘Operation Gob-Stopper’—the name having been selected by Brenda, the English-born wife of Jack Tragg—than appeared upon the surface!

  While the media in Rockabye County was less infested by ‘liberals’ than that of New York, Los Angeles, or San Francisco, two of the interviewers for the local television station were of such a persuasion and the Gusher City Mirror employed no other kind of journalists. Aware of their close to paranoid hatred of the Free World’s law enforcement agencies and officers, the sheriff had no desire to have any of them on the scene while dealing with a situation involving radical activists. If they should have been monitoring the calls from Central Control the four deputies, having received the appropriate code name, would delay them for as long as possible and allow him to take whatever action he considered necessary without their interference.

  ‘Here we go, gents,’ Jack drawled, returning the handset at the conclusion of his message and studying the situation with the eyes and instincts of an exceptionally competent, experienced peace officer. xi Noticing the hillside rose only about thirty foot above the house, but in the form of an almost sheer cliff, he went on, ‘Let’s have all the spotlights we’ve got trained above the house. It’s not likely those two yoyos will decide to try some more climbing, but I want that area kept illuminated in case they should give it a whirl.’

  ‘I just hope the bastards do try it!’ stated the youngest of the harness bulls from the back up radio patrol cars, having collected an Armalite M-16 automatic rifle out of the trunk of his team’s vehicle to supplement his handgun. Hefting the powerful weapon with grim appreciation and glancing to where Patrolman Herman Klinger was lying, he continued, ‘I’ll bet neither of them make it to the top!’

  ‘They’ll be given every chance to surrender, should they want it that way,’ the Sheriff said, looking around and, despite understanding the sentiments of the speaker—even sympathizing with them to a certain degree—his voice held a warning. Then, satisfied the point he had made had been taken by all the other peace officers, he returned his attention to the task in hand. ‘We’ll try to talk them out first.’

  ‘They won’t come,’ Bulpin guessed and the patrolman rumbled concurrence with his point of view.

  ‘Likely not,’ Jack admitted. ‘But doing it will give us more time to try and figure out a way to get to them when they don’t. As I see it, our best chance would be to get above the house and come down on to the roof.’

  ‘It’ll be one hell of a rough climb, was I asked,’ Bulpin commented wryly, raising his gaze to the building. ‘Looks to me like we’ll have to go up off to one side and out of their range of vision, then work along the face of the cliff until we’re over the house. If one of them happens to look out of a window and spots us hanging on to it, I don’t reckon we’ll be around long enough to retire on pension.’

  ‘There’s nothing more certain than that, Dave,’ the Sheriff conceded, noticing with approval how the detective had assumed—being one of the senior officers present—he would take part in the attempt. ‘So we’ll give talking them out a whirl first. If that doesn’t work, we’ll have to do it the hard way.’

  ‘Go get the “Super Hailer” from the trunk of our heap,’ Bulpin told the youngest of the patrolmen. Then, while the order was being obeyed, he returned his attention to Jack. ‘Shall we use your Buick or our heap to go up there?’

  ‘Neither,’ the Sheriff replied. ‘Those yoyos will know we wouldn’t let any civilians through and hearing a car go by would warn them we could be up to something.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to climb the slope like they did,’ the detective estimated.

  ‘Well, if they could, I reckon there’s no doubt we can.’

  ‘Here you are, sir,’ announced the youngest harness bull, offering the Sheriff the Audio Equipment Company Model S-183 ‘Super Hailer’ megaphone he had been sent to collect from the unmarked car used by the detectives.

  ‘You use it, Dave!’ Jack instructed. ‘Let them know that we’ve made them, but don’t say I’m here.’

  ‘Yo!’ assented the detective, being aware of the reason for the latter part of the order. Lifting the megaphone, he switched it on and said, ‘Richard Cleverly! Edward Gierek!’

  As Bulpin was speaking the spotlights, which were also standard equipment in the radio patrol cars, were brought into action. With the words booming out and echoing eerily, the three powerful beams were directed upwards. As the Sheriff had instructed, they were directed at the sheer cliff face beyond rather than at the building.

  The megaphone was a top quality, self-contained unit. Charged with ten standard ‘D’ size flashlight batteries, which had only recently been renewed, it could project verbal messages in an intelligible fashion to distant listeners even when there was a high level of noise—such as might be encountered from a rowdy crowd, or a hostile mob—interfering. In the silence of the night, despite the doors and windows being closed, it would therefore be heard by the occupants of the house with perfect clarity.

  Gazing upwards, the Sheriff was impressed and satisfied by the note of grim inexorability with which Bulpin had pronounced the names. It suggested, as was indeed the case, that the peace officers were in grim and deadly earnest. Jack wondered how the two cornered fugitives felt as they looked down into the glaring lights and listened to the implication—hopefully correct—reverberating across the countryside that their identities were known to the lawmen on the road. From up there, even if they could not hear the sirens, they might be able to see other units speeding to the scene, bringing well-armed reinforcements to strengthen the party already arrayed against them.

  ‘You’re completely hemmed in!’ the greatly magnified voice of the detective boomed on remorselessly. ‘Why drag it out when you know you can’t hope to beat it in the long run?’ After a short pause, to allow the import of the words to strike home, he went on, ‘You have five minutes to come out with your hands in the air. If you don’t, we’ll be coming in after you. How about it?’

  There was no immediate reply from above!

  One minute dragged by!

  Then two!

  And three!

  Four more official cars of various kinds arrived, followed by an ambulance from the Central Receiving Hospital in Gusher City carrying an intern and a team of paramedics.

  One of the newcomers, the Watch Commander of Gusher City South Division, informed the sheriff that ‘Operation Gob-Stopper’ was working and a ‘liberal’ newspaperman from the Gusher City Mirror was being delayed by the deputies.

  Still more spotlights were switched on, now bathing the house as well as the cliff beyond in a glow of brilliant whiteness. However, on the orders of the sheriff, the area to either side of the building was deliberately left in darkness and this was even blacker as a result of the glare.

  Two more minutes crept away!

  ‘Cleverly! Gierek!’ the amplified voice of Bulpin warned, in response to a nod from Jack. ‘Your time’s run out. What is it to be?’

  The porch light was switched on!

  Every peace officer who possessed a weapon with sufficient range for it to be effective gripped it more tightly and began to align its sights!

  Suddenly, crossing the porch and violently, waving a white handkerchief, a single figure appeared!

  ‘That’s not either of them!’ Garrity shouted urgently.

  ‘All officers!’ the detective barked into the microphone, having made a similar estimation and needing no instructions from either of his superiors on what to do. ‘All officers, hold your fire. Repeat, hold your fire!’

  Crossing the front garden and coming through the gate in the picket fence, the man from the house turned along the narrow road which wound down the hillside to join Route 228. It descended at a gradual angle for a short way, reversed itself in a hairpin bend, ran some distance in the opposite direction and turned back once more. Continuing to signal his harmless intentions vigorously with the handkerchief, he disappeared
from view after the second bend. Wanting to hear what he had to say as quickly as possible, the sheriff dispatched one of the newly arrived radio patrol cars to fetch him. When he arrived, he proved to be shortish, plump, about fifty years of age and with a face which normally would have been jovial. He was bare headed, in his shirtsleeves and had moccasins on his feet.

  ‘Those two god-damned, stinking bastards!’ the man gasped, with a Texas accent—being in such poor physical condition he was still somewhat short of breath in spite of having completed the remainder of the journey from the house in the car. ‘They burst in on us waving guns and saying they’d kill us, the long haired sons-of-bitches!’

  ‘We saw them,’ Jack replied, walking forward accompanied by the uniformed Commander. ‘But there was no way we could stop them from down here without shooting and we didn’t want to chance doing that without knowing who was in the house.’

  ‘I can see that, Sheriff Tragg,’ the man declared. ‘And thank god you’re here. They’ve sent me—!’

  ‘Do you mind telling us your name, please, sir?’ Jack interrupted, wanting to give the speaker time to recover his wits fully.

  ‘Lacey,’ the man supplied. ‘Oliver Lacey. I own Lacey’s Video Services.’

  ‘This is Captain Bellamy of Gusher City South,’ the Sheriff introduced. ‘And that’s your place up there?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Is your family in the house?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘No?’ Jack queried, remembering the reference to ‘us’ and deducing from the single word response that whoever was present might not be considered acceptable company.

  ‘Not my family,’ Lacey corrected. ‘They’re away on vacation, thank god!’

  ‘But you weren’t alone?’ the sheriff prompted.

  ‘Well, I—!’ the man began, darting a worried glance at the peace officers who were standing around. ‘That is —!’

  ‘Maybe we’d best go talk about it in my car?’ Jack suggested, concluding his suppositions were correct. ‘Just you, Captain Bellamy and myself.’

  ‘I—I’d prefer it that way,’ Lacey admitted, glancing at the tall, slim, middle-aged man in the uniform of a senior officer in the Gusher City Police Department and thinking that there did not appear to be any inter-departmental hostility between the members of the municipal and county law enforcement agencies, despite almost every current television ‘cop’ series implying such was invariably the case. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Who do you have up there?’ Jack inquired, as soon as the privacy he had suggested was attained.

  ‘A—A couple of girls,’ Lacey confessed, looking in embarrassment from one peace officer to the other as they occupied the seat in front of him. ‘Not minors, but—well, I suppose you’d call them “hookers”, although I hadn’t got them at the house to—!’

  ‘And there were only the three of you?’ Captain Henry Bellamy inquired.

  ‘Yes,’ Lacey confirmed, looking far from at ease about the information he was divulging. ‘You see there’s this business associate of mine I’m trying to set up a big deal with and, as we’re both into apartment house wres—!’

  ‘He didn’t show?’ the Sheriff guessed, as the explanation trailed off uncompleted.

  ‘No,’ the plump man replied and, although he felt sure wrong conclusions were being drawn, he decided against telling the real reason for the two prostitutes being invited. xii Instead, he went on, ‘Would you believe, of all things, he’d caught himself a damned bad attack of diarrhea and couldn’t make it?’

  ‘It happens,’ Jack smiled, being more interested in the two radicals than learning why Lacey had the women on the premises.

  ‘Thank god it did this time!’ the man declared vehemently. ‘Having those two bushy haired bastards burst in on us while he was visiting with me wouldn’t have done anything to improve my chances.’

  ‘Likely,’ the Sheriff drawled with a grin of genuine sympathy. ‘Why’d they let you come down here, Mr. Lacey?’

  ‘It scared the crap out of them when they heard you know who they are,’ the man answered. ‘So they’ve sent me down to tell you their terms.’

  ‘Which are?’ Jack asked, although he could have made an accurate guess.

  ‘They said they’re going to take my car, come down and go to Gusher City Airport, where you’re to have an aircraft with enough fuel aboard to fly them direct to Cuba,’ Lacey explained, as the Sheriff had guessed would be the case. ‘They said for me to be real sure I warned you they’ve got the girls and they’ll kill both of them if they don’t get what they’re asking for.’

  ‘They turned you loose and hung on to a pair of hookers as their hostages?’ Bellamy growled and swung a bewildered gaze at the other peace officer. ‘God damn it, Jack, that doesn’t make any sense!’

  ‘It does to them, the way they’ve got it figured out,’ Lacey asserted. ‘The blond bastard told me I should warn you how, when word got out that you’d let a couple of Chicano girls be killed rather than give way to their demands, the “Party” would have every Hispanic and “support the down-trodden ethnic minorities” freak in Texas rioting on the streets in protest. They were trying to reach those god-damned soft-shell newscasters at the television studio on the telephone when I came out and they’re figuring on calling the Mirror next to make sure the word gets spread for them. That’s what those pinko crud would do, when they hear, and be grateful for the excuse.’

  ‘We’ve seen it,’ Jack admitted somberly, being all too aware of the way in which the ‘liberal’ elements used the media to incite racial hatred and tensions for their own ends. ‘But there’ll be no giving in to them.’

  ‘God damn it!’ Lacey protested angrily. ‘Those bastards weren’t kidding when they said they’d kill the girls. You can’t put their lives in danger.’

  ‘You sound as if you care what happens to them.’ Bellamy remarked.

  ‘You can bet your god-damned life I care about them!’ the plump man almost shouted and there was no doubt his fury was genuine. ‘It’s on account of me that Rosa and Maria are out here tonight and I’ll be “somethinged” before I’ll let you—!’

  ‘Hold hard there, Mr. Lacey!’ the captain requested, raising his right hand in a placatory gesture. ‘I’m sorry. Like the Sheriff’s wife says, “that was one of those things wot could have been better put”. No offense was intended. But are you certain in your own mind those yoyos meant what they said?’

  ‘They meant it all right!’ Lacey claimed, with complete conviction and showing signs of being mollified by the apology. ‘Hell, they reek of pot and I’m willing to bet that’s not the hardest thing they’re high on. Yes sir, there’s no way they’re just bluffing.’ He shook himself violently, as if to control his churned up emotions, then went on in a less vehement fashion. ‘I know the kind of tight this puts you in, Sheriff, Captain. If you give way to them, you’ve established a precedent that will give encouragement to every other goddamned radical who finds himself on the run from the law. If it wasn’t for Maria and Rosa, I’d say go up there and fetch those two hairy sons-of-bitches out any way you have to. Even if you have to burn the house down.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Mr. Lacey, keeping the girls from coming to harm is our number one priority,’ Jack declared with sincerity, comparing favorably the genuine concern of the portly messenger with the way in which the character of a successful and prosperous businessman—particularly one who had such a pronounced Southern accent—would have been portrayed in the kind of movies and television shows currently being made. ‘Have they given you a deadline for getting their answer?’

  ‘I didn’t know you were here,’ Lacey replied. ‘So I warned them there was sure to be a delay while the officers contacted somebody in Gusher City with enough authority to give a decision on their demands. The blond wasn’t happy about it, but his amigo said it would give the folk from the media a chance to get out here and cover them.’

  ‘That wasn’t why we didn’t let them know I
was here, but I’m not sorry it made up their minds to accept the delay,’ Jack remarked and glanced at Bellamy. ‘We’d best start making use of the time we’ve bought us, Hank.’

  ‘Why sure,’ the captain agreed. ‘There’s a limit to how long your boys can make the “Gob-Stopper” stick.’

  ‘You’re not going to give in to them, are you?’ Lacey asked, more as a statement than a question.

  ‘You’ve already said why we can’t,’ Jack reminded, as Bellamy was leaving the Buick. ‘And so we’re going to take them at the house, where they won’t be expecting it.’ He raised his hand in a gesture of gentle restraint before Lacey could speak, then continued, ‘No, it won’t be a frontal assault, or even by driving up from here.’

  ‘They said they knew you wouldn’t let anybody other than cops come up by car,’ the businessman claimed. ‘You could have some of your men lowered on to the roof from a helicopter—except they’d hear it overhead and guess what was happening.’

  ‘Which’s why doing it that way is out,’ the Sheriff asserted. ‘So two of us will be going up the slope on foot, along the cliff and on to the roof, then get in from there.’

  ‘Along the cliff?’ Lacey repeated, staring in a startled fashion at the Sheriff. ‘God! That’ll be dangerous, even if your men are wearing bulletproof clothing.’

  ‘Which we won’t be,’ Jack answered. ‘Climbing around up there will be difficult enough without being weighted down with protective clothing capable of stopping a bullet from that Armalite carbine.’

  ‘You keep saying, “us”,’ Lacey commented, staring at the tanned face of the man on the front seat. ‘Does that mean you will be going personally?’