by Edson, J. T.
‘And keep this in mind all the time you’re out there,’ Cleverly went on, smarting under the contemptuous way he had been addressed as, “hombre bravo”, “brave man”, as he once again waved his weapon. ‘You just look like you’re trying to leave the porch and you’ll be too dead to care what happens to us.’
‘Senores el policia!’ Maria shouted, as she and her cousin stepped on to the porch covered by the carbine and automatic pistol in the hands of the fugitives. Having sufficient faith in the local law enforcement agencies to feel sure they would do everything possible to avoid injury to herself and Rosa, she hoped to learn whether they wanted any kind of action taken and went on speaking in Spanish. ‘Que paso, por favor —!’
‘Speak English, you “mother-something” greaser whore or I’ll give you something worse than your social disease!’ Cleverly yelled, inadvertently helping the men on the roof by prolonging the conversation and further delaying the departure of his party. ‘Don’t try to get smart-assed with us!’
‘And stop right where you are!’ Gierek supplemented.
‘Whatever you say, comrade,’ Maria answered, too quietly for the words to be heard on Route 228. She was wondering whether she and her cousin were supposed to make a dash from the porch and allow the peace officers, whom she deduced were on the roof, to drop between themselves and the radicals. Concluding that to make such an attempt would be dangerous in the extreme, after a moment’s thought, she felt sure it was not contemplated. Deciding against making the attempt, or trying the patience of the already excitably nervous pair too far, she raised her voice again and went on in English, ‘Hey, Captain Bellamy, can you hear me?’
‘What did you say?’ the Watch Commander inquired, unable to see if the sheriff and patrolmen were ready, so playing for time in case it should be needed by them. ‘You’ll have to speak louder!’
‘I said—!’ Maria began, fighting against the temptation to look upwards as doing so might alert the radicals to the help she believed was on the roof.
‘Speak louder and move forward to give us a better chance of hearing you!’ Bellamy suggested, without any great hope that his instructions would be permitted.
The assumption proved correct!
‘Get the hell back in here!’ Gierek ordered savagely and, while the girls were obeying as slowly as Maria estimated would be safe, he shouted without leaving the building or appearing in the doorway, ‘That’s it with the talking, you “mother-something” Fascist pigs. You’ve seen they’re both alive and unharmed. So now, whether you’re ready or not, we’re bringing them down and it’s up to you whether they live or die.’
‘We know the media’s down there with you by this time!’ the blond radical went on, being disinclined to let it appear his companion was conducting the negotiations in the capacity of leader. Unaware of the trick which had been played by Lacey to deprive them of the publicity they desired, he elaborated with a complete lack of diplomacy. ‘So just remember, while they might only be a couple of no-account hookers to you, they’re both Hispanics and their people won’t sit back quietly if they get wasted because you “mother-something” Fascist pigs didn’t care enough about them to let us come through and fly out.’
‘Don’t lose your cool!’ Bellamy countered, glancing at the television newscaster and the reporter, wondering whether they now suspected the businessman had lied when describing the political persuasions of the fugitives who had invaded his home. There was nothing in the attitude of either to suggest this was the case. In fact, he concluded the ill-advised manner in which the last comment in particular had been phrased had struck each as being further evidence to support the claims made by Lacey and neither was willing to show the sympathy which they would have displayed if they had known they were listening to left wing extremists. Satisfied that “Operation Gob-Stopper” was still effective, due to the unasked—but nevertheless most welcome—support of the businessman, he continued, ‘We’re satisfied that they’re all right. You can drive on down with them as soon as you’re ready and we’ll let you come through.’
Chapter Five – One Advantage of Being Black
‘Know something, sir?’ Patrolman Joseph Garrity commented dryly, listening to the way in which Richard Cleverly was ordering Maria Esteban to speak English as he and the Sheriff of Rockabye County were coming to a halt at the eastern edge of the roof. ‘I’ve never heard a radical activist in a television “cop” show call a hooker a name like that and her a Chicano to boot.’
‘Or me,’ Jack Tragg admitted, just as sardonically. ‘In fact, ever since Hanoi Jane made Klute, the Hollywood “liberals” have treated prostitution as if it was a honorable and desirable profession and that kind of talk is always reserved for us evil Southron W.A.S.P. racists in their scripts. I tell you, Joe, if those two good old boys don’t watch what they’re saying, their buddies from the media down there might get taken with the notion they’re not radical activists at all.’
‘Was I one for billing into other people’s doings, I’d warn them about it,’ the big black patrolman declared, starting to uncoil the short length of rope which encircled his waist. Nodding over his shoulder while doing so, he continued, ‘Good for Maria, though, she’s still playing the game for us. I only wish there was some way we could have told her what we’re figuring on doing, so she and the other girl don’t make any wrong moves.’
‘So do I,’ the Sheriff confessed, also glancing to where the prostitute was still doing her best to keep the conversation going. ‘But something tells me she could have figured it out for herself.’
‘There’s one way you could have made certain sure she’d know, sir,’ Garrity stated, looping and drawing tight the readymade noose at one end of the rope around the metal air vent which protruded from the roof.
‘How?’ Jack inquired.
‘I’ve heard tell you can speak Spanish so good you can pass as a Chicano,’ the patrolman explained with a broad grin, allowing the free end of the rope to fall over the edge of the roof. ‘Which being, you could have started singing what we’re figuring on doing in Mex’ and she’d have understood, but neither of those yoyos wouId because they don’t habla Espanol.’
‘I did so think about trying just that,’ the Sheriff protested, aware of his linguistic ability being common knowledge among the members of the county and municipal law enforcement agencies. He was, in fact, one of the few Caucasian peace officers in Rockabye County who the legal profession—albeit reluctantly in some cases, no pun intended—considered sufficiently fluent to be competent to “read his rights” in Spanish to a person of Hispanic “roots”. xiv ‘Trouble being, I didn’t think either of our hairy “comrades” down there would be quite stupid enough to mistake us for a couple of good old Chicano boys out a-serenading their amantes in the moonlight; especially from on the roof. So we’ll just have to count on Maria having the smarts to make the right guess and finding a chance to put the other girl wise.’
Having concluded the comment, part of a conversation carried out sotto voce for the purpose of helping to reduce the tension which—despite their respective experience in situations involving considerable stress—both were feeling, Jack grasped the rope in both hands and stood astride it facing away from the edge of the roof. The warning given by Cleverly indicated there must be no further delay.
Tugging on the rope, to ensure the vent was as firm and strong as Oliver Lacey had asserted, he began to slide to the ground. Glancing into one of the windows as he passed, he ascertained that the garage portion of the building was in darkness and unoccupied.
While the height of the wall down which the descent was being made was not so great it would have been unsafe to drop without the assistance of the rope, the sheriff had felt disinclined to take the chance of being heard on landing in such a fashion. The means he had elected to employ made it possible for himself and the patrolman—who followed as soon as he had alighted and stepped clear—to reach the ground in almost complete silence.
Walking quickly to the front entrance of the garage, after having peered around the end of the building to satisfy themselves they could do so without attracting the attention of the radicals, neither Jack nor Garrity were in the least put out by finding it was closed. They had been warned by the owner of the property that such would be the case and he had also supplied the means with which they could gain admittance.
The main door was one of the wide, ‘roll up’ variety which could be operated via an electronic device while approaching in a vehicle. Although Lacey had left behind the control box, this presented no obstacle for the peace officers. They would not have used it even if it had been available to them, as they had known the sound of the mechanism being put into motion would have warned the radicals of their presence. There was another and, for their purposes, far safer means of effecting an entrance. Fortunately, the businessman had not been searched before he was sent to deliver the ultimatum from Cleverly and Edward Gierek. One of the keys on the ring in his trousers pocket was for the lock of the smaller, pedestrian’s door alongside the main entrance.
Making use of the key he had had given to him by Lacey, Jack unlocked and opened the door, moving with considerable caution, in case the departure of the radicals and their hostages had already commenced. Hearing nothing to suggest this was the case and looking inside with an equal care, he concluded everything was pretty close to being as he required. The interior lights were out and the angle from Route 228 was sufficient to ensure no beam from the spotlights below could probe directly through the windows on the side. In spite of that, even when the door was closed, there still would be sufficient reflected glow from outside to offer all the necessary illumination for what he and the patrolman had come to do.
Passing the Sheriff, carrying his Colt Python .357 Magnum revolver drawn ready for use, Garrity swung a sweeping gaze around. There were two cars in the garage, a Cadillac sedan belonging to Lacey and the Ford Mustang in which the two prostitutes had arrived for their uncompleted assignation. Even with the vehicles inside, there was still a reasonable amount of empty space.
‘Whooee!’ the burly patrolman breathed, as his companion entered and, by closing the door, brought an end to the direct illumination from the road. ‘I wish my garage was even close to this tidy.’
‘Your wife rides you about it too, huh?’ Jack inquired sympathetically and just as quietly. Receiving an affirmatory nod, he continued, ‘I always thought, seeing how nature isn’t supposed to make the same mistake twice, no two women could be alike. See happen you can fix the main light while I attend to the connecting door.’
‘Yo!’ assented the patrolman, wondering if there would be time for the precautions to be taken before the radicals arrived.
Going to the Cadillac without commenting upon the point, Garrity holstered his revolver and climbed on to its hood. Aided by the extra height he acquired by doing so, he reached upwards and twisted the long, tubular fluorescent lamp free from its ‘bayonet mount’ fitting in the roof. Lifting it clear, he lowered it and himself carefully to the floor. Then, remembering the favorable remarks made by the Sheriff about the owner of the vehicle while they were taking a breather during the climb, he leaned the tube against its side and used the right sleeve of his dark blue uniform shirt to remove the few marks his feet had made on the hood.
While the patrolman was eliminating one potential source of illumination which might otherwise have placed the rescue attempt at jeopardy, Jack was taking a similar precaution. However, his task was somewhat easier to accomplish. Crossing to the door which gave access to the living quarters of the building and which was bathed in shadows, he placed his ear against it to listen for a moment. Hearing nothing to suggest there could be need for haste, or to warn his companion, he unscrewed the electric light bulb from its socket above the door and placed it upon one of the uncluttered shelves the sight of which, in part, had provoked the envious comment from Garrity as they had entered the garage. Having done this, he once more listened for any information to indicate what was happening beyond the dividing wall.
‘I can’t hear anything from them yet,’ the Sheriff remarked, as his companion joined him. ‘So now all we have to do is wait.’
‘Like they always used to tell us at the Academy,’ the patrolman replied. ‘Waiting’s often what police work is all about.’
‘Well now,’ Jack drawled with a grin, despite having the greatest respect for the high standard of training instilled by the Academy of the Gusher City Police Department, ‘I’m real pleased to hear they teach you something right there.’
‘Why they surely so do,’ Garrity agreed, knowing there was no malice in the apparently derogatory remark and also grinning. ‘They teach us always to call every newly-made deputy sheriff “sir” all polite and respectful, even though he isn’t in the Department.’ Then the levity departed and he put aside all thought of the friendly rivalry which existed between the municipal police officers and members of the Sheriff’s Office, going on soberly, ‘Mind if I make a suggestion, sir?’
‘Feel free,’ Jack authorized, pausing although he had been on the point of taking up his position for the ambush which the delay in the arrival of the radicals and hostages was making possible.
‘Maybe it would be better happen I was to stand that side of the door, sir,’ the patrolman offered, nodding in the direction selected by the Sheriff. ‘One advantage of being black is I don’t show up so well in the shadows as a honky like you.’
‘Have it your way, amigo,’ Jack accepted, after a moment’s hesitation which was not in any way caused by resentment over how the suggestion was worded. He had selected his intended position instinctively and without even thinking of his companion being black. Crossing to stand just beyond the hinged side of the door, he glanced and went on, ‘By cracky, Joe, you’re right at that. You don’t show up at all.’
Despite being aware that they were waiting to waylay a pair of fugitives, who would not hesitate an instant before trying to kill them if offered an opportunity, neither of the peace officers followed the hoary fictional cliché of taking out his revolver and checking upon the contents of its cylinder. xv Nor, although each was aware he might need to arm himself with great rapidity—despite intending to tackle and capture the radicals with bare hands if possible—did either offer to ensure his weapon ‘hung loosely in its holster’. A rig which necessitated such a precaution before use would be more of a liability than an aid to survival. Being cognizant of that basic gun fighting fact, the Rockabye County Department of Public Safety laid down such a high standard of acceptance in ‘Threads and Pieces’—the name given by the local peace officers to its Manual Of Dress And Armaments’ Regulations—that the rules precluded any chance of so ill advised a selection being made when purchasing this most vitally important piece of equipment.
Once the ambush positions had been attained, a contingency which Jack had taken into account when making plans on Route 228, hoping that the chance to put this aspect into effect would be presented as it would offer himself and Garrity an element of surprise, time began to drag by with what seemed an interminable slowness.
However, in the course of their respective service as peace officers, the Sheriff and the patrolman had each performed sufficient stake-out duties to have learned the value of patience. Neither spoke, cleared his throat, shuffled his feet, nor moved any more than was absolutely necessary. Even when some slight motion could not be avoided, care was taken to hold its noise to a minimum.
At first, in fact, Jack and Garrity were far from displeased by the respite. It was offering them an opportunity to throw off the last effects of the not inconsiderable exertions which had been required to ascend the slope, move along the face of the cliff and reach the interior of the garage.
Gradually, however, a disturbing thought began to occur to each peace officer!
A more than sufficient time had elapsed since their arrival for the party from the living quarters to have put in an appearance!
/> Yet there still was not the slightest indication that the intended departure was about to take place!
The same disturbing question sprang almost simultaneously to the minds of the waiting lawmen!
Had the radicals suspected a trap had been laid and changed their minds about leaving?
If that should be the case, Jack and Garrity realized, the danger to the two prostitutes would be increased immeasurably!
At least one of the girls would almost certainly be killed immediately, so as to offer convincing proof of the determination to obtain an unimpeded escape not only from the building but out of the country which was motivating the fugitives. Or, should they have decided their demands would not be met regardless of what they had been told by Captain Henry Bellamy, the ‘harmless’ marijuana—augmented by whatever form of ‘hard’ narcotic they were using to boost their courage—might lead the pair to murder both their captives and try to flee overland on foot in search of other hostages.
No matter which happened, or even if something equally adverse that neither peace officer had conceived should occur, the situation which they had taken so many risks and expended so much energy to avert was likely to be brought to fruition!
Appreciating the ramifications if any adverse eventuality take place, Garrity felt sympathy for his companion!
The patrolman knew that if the affair should turn out badly, even though the failure was through no fault of his and due to circumstances which could not be foreseen, the sheriff would be held responsible!
At that moment, the black peace officer was grateful for his decision to remain a uniformed harness bull instead of accepting promotion to the Bureau of Detectives. While the old saying that ‘rank has its privileges’ was undoubtedly true, acquiring it also brought an ever growing volume of responsibility in its wake. He now realized more than ever that under many circumstances, as senior member of the law enforcement agencies on the scene of an incident, it required a special kind of man to make the decision upon whatever line of action was to be taken and know that the life of another human being hung in the balance.