The shot was heard, the glass shattered, and the bullet smashed into the wall, sending pieces of plaster flying. Osterman turned off the light.
On the floor, John Tanner closed his eyes and spoke quietly. "So, that's where we stand. The microphones were a lie Everything, a lie."
"No! Stay back! Get back!" screamed Leila before any of them knew what she meant. She lunged, followed by Alice, across the kitchen toward the doorway.
Tanner's children had not heard the shots outside; the sounds of the rain, the thunder, and the television set had covered them. But they'd heard 1 the shot fired into the kitchen. Both women fell on; them now, pulling them to the floor, shielding them with their bodies.
"Ali, get them into the dining room! Stay on the floor!" commanded Tanner. "Bernie, you don't have a gun, do you?"
"Sorry, never owned one."
"Me either. Isn't it funny? I've always disapproved of anyone buying a gun. So Goddamned primitive."
"What are we going to do?" Leila was trying to remain calm.
"We're going to get out of here," answered Tanner. "The shots are from the woods. Whoever is firing doesn't know whether we have weapons or not. He's not going to shoot from the front ... all least I don't think so. Cars pass on Orchard pretty frequently. . . . We'll pile into the wagon and get the hell out."
"I'll open the door," said Osterman.
"You've been hero enough for one afternoon It's my turn. ... If we time it right, there's no problem. The door goes up fast."
They crept into the garage.
The children lay in the back section of the wagon between the suitcases, cramped but protected. Leila and Ali crouched on the floor behind the front seat. Osterman was at the wheel and Tanner stood by the garage door, prepared to pull it up.
"Go ahead. Start it!" He would wait until the engine was full throttle then open the door and jump into the wagon. There were no obstructions. The station wagon would clear the small Triumph and swing around easily for the spurt forward down the driveway.
"Go ahead, Bernie! For Christ's sake, start it!"
Instead, Osterman opened his door and got out. He looked at Tanner.
"It's dead."
Tanner turned the ignition key on the Triumph. The motor did not respond. Osterman opened the hood of the wagon and beckoned John over. The two men looked at the motor, Tanner holding a match.
Every wire had been cut.
"Does that door open from the outside?" asked Bernie.
"Yes. Unless it's locked."
"Was it?"
"No."
"Wouldn't we have heard it open?"
"Probably not with this rain."
"Then it's possible someone's in here."
The two men looked over at the small bathroom door. It was closed. The only hiding place in the garage. "Let's get them out of here," whispered Tanner.
Ali, Leila, and the two children went back into the house. Bernie and John looked around the walls of the garage for any objects which might serve as weapons. Tanner took a rusty axe; Osterman, a garden fork. Both men approached the closed door.
Tanner signaled Bernie to pull it open. Tanner rushed in, thrusting the blade of the axe in front of him.
It was empty. But on the wall, splotched in black spray paint, was the Greek letter a.
Tanner ordered them all into the basement. Ali and Leila took the children down the stairs, trying feebly to make a game of it. Tanner stopped Osterman at the staircase door.
"Let's put up a few obstacles, okay?"
"You think it's going to come to that?"
"I just don't want to take chances."
The two men crept below the sight-lines of the windows and pushed three heavy armchairs, one on top of another, the third on its side, against the front door. Then they crawled to each window, standing out of sight, to make sure the locks were secure.
Tanner, in the kitchen, took a flashlight and put it in his pocket. Together they moved the vinyl table against the outside door: Tanner shoved the aluminum chairs to Osterman, who packed them under the table, one chair rim braced under the doorknob.
"This is no good," Bernie said. "You're sealing us up. We should be figuring out how to get away!"
"Have you figured that out?"
In the dim light Osterman could see only the outline of Tanner's body. Yet he could sense the desperation in his voice.
"No. No, I haven't. But we've got to try!"
"I know. In the meantime we should take every precaution. . . . We don't know what's out there. How many or where they are."
"Let's finish it, then."
The two men crawled to the far end of the kitchen, beyond the pantry to the garage entrance. The outside garage door had been locked, but for additional security they propped the last kitchen chair under the knob and crept back into the hallway. They picked up their primitive weapons—the axe and the garden fork—and went down into the basement.
The sound of the heavy rain could be heard i pounding on the small, rectangular windows, level I with the ground outside the cellar. Intermittent t flashes of lightning lit up the cinderblock walls.
Tanner spoke. "It's dry in here. We're safe. Whoever's out there is soaked to the skin, he can't stay, there all night. . . . It's Saturday. You know how the police cars patrol the roads on weekends.. They'll see there are no lights on and come investigate."
"Why should they?" asked Ali. "They'll simply think we went out to dinner "
"Not after last night. MacAuliff made it clear he'd keep an eye on the house. His patrol cars can't see through to the back lawn but they'll notice the front. They're bound to. . . . Look." Tanner took his wife's elbow and led her to the single front window just above ground level to the side of the flagstone steps. The rain made rivulets on the panes of glass; it was hard to see. Even the street lamp on Orchard Drive was not always visible. Tanner took the flashlight out of his pocket and motioned Osterman over. "I was telling Ali, MacAuliff said this morning that he'd have the house watched. He will, too. He doesn't want any more trouble. . . . We'll take turns at this window. That way no one's eyes will get tired or start playing tricks. As soon as one of us sees the patrol car, we'll signal up and down with the flashlight. They'll see it. They'll stop."
"That's good," said Bernie. "That's very good! I wish to hell you'd said that upstairs."
"I wasn't sure. Funny, but I couldn't remember if you could see the street from this window. I've cleaned this basement a hundred times, but I couldn't remember for sure." He smiled at them.
"I feel better," said Leila, trying her best to instill John's confidence into the others.
"Ali, you take the first shift. Fifteen minutes apiece. Bernie, you and I will keep moving between the other windows. Leila, sort of stay with Janet, will you?"
"What can I do, dad?" Raymond asked.
Tanner looked at his son, proud of him.
"Stay at the front window with your mother. You'll be permanent there. Keep watching for the police car."
Tanner and Ostennan paced between the two windows at the rear of the house and the one at the side. In fifteen minutes, Leila relieved Ali at the front window. Ali found an old blanket which she made mto a small mattress so Janet could lie down. The boy remained at the window with Leila, peering out, intermittently rubbing his hand on the glass as if the action might wipe away the water outside.
No one spoke; the pounding rain and blasts of wind seemed to increase. It was Bernie's turn at the front. As he took the flashlight from his wife he held her close for several seconds.
Tanner's turn came and went, and Ali once again took her place. None of them said it out loud but they were losing hope. If MacAuliff was patrolling the area, with concentration on the Tanner property, it seemed illogical that a police car hadn't passed in over an hour.
"There it is! There it is. Dad! See the red light?" Tanner, Bernie and Lella rushed to the window beside Alice and the boy. Ali had turned on the flashlight and was waving it back and forth. The patrol car had sl
owed down. It was barely moving, yet it did not stop.
"Give me the light!"
Tanner held the beam steady until he could see, dimly but surely, the blurred reflection of the white car through the downpour. Then he moved the beam vertically, rapidly.
Whoever was driving had to be aware of the light. The path of the beam had to cross the driver's window, hit the driver's eyes.
But the patrol car did not stop. It reached the line of the driveway and slowly drove away.
Tanner shut off the flashlight, not wanting to turn around, not wanting to see the faces of the others.
Bernie spoke softly. "I don't like this."
"He had to see it! He had to!" Ali was holding her son, who was still peering out the window.
"Not necessarily," lied John Tanner. "It's a mess out there. His windows are probably just as clouded as ours. Maybe more so. Car windows fog up. He'll be around again. Next time we'll make sure. Next time, I'll run out."
"How," asked Bernie. "You'd never make it m time. We piled furniture in front of the door."
"I'll get through this window." Tanner mentally measured the space. It was far too small. How easily the lies came.
"I can crawl out of there, Dad!" The boy was right. It might be necessary to send him.
But he knew he wouldn't. He couldn't.
Whoever was in the patrol car had seen the beam of light and hadn't stopped.
"Let's get back to the windows. Leila, you take over here. Ali, check Janet. I think she's fallen asleep."
Tanner knew he had to keep them doing something, even if the action meant nothing. Each would have his private thoughts, his private panic.
There was a shattering crack of thunder. A flash of lightning lit up the basement.
"Johnny!" Osterman's face was against the left rear window. "Come here."
Tanner ran to Ostennan's side and looked out Through the whipping patterns of the downpour he saw a short, vertical beam of light rising from the ground. It was moving from far back on the lawn, beyond the pool, near the woods. The beam swayed slowly, jerkily. Then a flash of lightning revealed the figure holding the flashlight. Someone was coming toward the house.
"Someone's worried he's going to fall into the pool," whispered Bernie.
"What is it?" Ali's intense voice came from the makeshift mattress where she sat with her daughter.
"There's somebody out there," answered Tanner. "Everybody stay absolutely still. ... It could be ... all right. It might be the police."
"Or the person who shot at us! Oh, God!"
"Ssh! Be quiet."
Leila left the front window and went over to Alice.
"Get your face away from the glass, Bernie."
"He's getting nearer. He's going around the pool."
The two men moved back and stood at the side of the window. The man in the downpour wore a large poncho, his head sheltered by a rain hat. He extinguished the light as he approached the house.
Above them, the prisoners could hear the kitchen door rattling, then the sound of a body crashing against the wood. Soon the banging stopped and except for the storm there was silence. The figure left the area of the kitchen door, and Tanner could see from his side of the window the beam of light darting up and down. And then it disappeared around the far end of the house by the garage.
"Bernie!" Leila stood up beside Alice and the child. "Look! Over there!"
Through her side window came the intermittent shafts of another beam of light. Although it was quite far away, the beam was bright; it danced closer. Whoever was carrying that light was racing towards the house.
Suddenly it went out and again there was only the rain and the lightning. Tanner and Osterman went to the side window, one on each side, and cautiously looked out. They could see no one, no figure, nothing but rain, forced into diagonal sheets by the wind.
There was a loud crash from upstairs. And then another, this one sharper, wood slamming against wood. Tanner went toward the stairs. He had locked the cellar door, but it was thin; a good kick would break it from its hinges. He held the axe level, prepared to swing at anything descending those stairs.
Silence.
There were no more sounds from the house.
Suddenly, Alice Tanner screamed. A large hand was rubbing the pane of glass in the front window. The beam of a powerful flashlight pierced the darkness. Someone was squatting behind the light, the face hidden under a rain hood.
Tanner rushed to his wife and daughter, picking up the child from the blanket.
"Get back! Get back against the wall!"
The glass shattered and flew in all directions under the force of the outsider's boot. The kicking continued. Mud and glass and fragments of wood came flying into the basement. Rain swept through the broken window. The six prisoners huddled by the front wall as the beam of light flashed about the floor, the opposite wall and the stairs.
What followed paralyzed them.
The barrel of a rifle appeared at the edge of the window frame and a volley of ear-shattering shots struck the floor and rear wall. Silence. Cinderblock dust whirled about the basement; in the glare of the powerful flashlight it looked like swirling clouds of stone mist. The firing began again, wildly, indiscriminately. The infantryman in Tanner told him what was happening. A second magazine had been inserted into the loading clip of an automatic rifle.
And then another rifle butt smashed the glass of the left rear window directly opposite them. A wide beam of light scanned the row of human beings against the wall. Tanner saw his wife clutching their daughter, shielding the small body with her own, and his mind cracked with fury.
He raced to the window, swinging the axe toward the shattered glass and the crouching figure behind it. The form jumped back; shots pounded into the ceiling above Tanner's head. The shaft of light from the front window caught him now. It's over, Tanner thought. It was going to be over for him. Instead, Bernie was swinging the garden for at the rifle barrel, deflecting shots away from Tanner. The news director crawled back to his wife and children.
"Get over here!" he yelled, pushing them to the far wall, the garage side of the basement. Janet could not stop screaming.
Bernie grabbed his wife's wrist and pulled her toward the basement comer. The beams of light crisscrossed each other. More shots were fired; dust filled the air; it became impossible to breathe.
The light from the rear window suddenly disappeared; the one from the front continued its awkward search. The second rifle was changing its position. And then from the far side window came another crash and the sound of breaking glass. The wide beam of light shone through again, now blinding them. Tanner shoved his wife and son toward the rear corner next to the stairs. Shots poured in; Tanner could feel the vibration as the bullets spiraled into the wall above and around him.
Crossfire!
He held the axe tightly, then he lunged forward, through the fire, fully understanding that any one bullet might end his life. But none could end it until he reached his target. Nothing could prevent that!
He reached the side window and swung the axe diagonally into it. An anguished scream followed; blood gushed through the opening. Tanner's face and arms were covered with blood.
The rifle in the front window tried to aim in Tanner's direction, but it was impossible. The bullets hit the floor.
Osterman rushed toward the remaining rifle, holding the garden fork at his shoulder. At the last instant he flung it through the outline of the broken glass as if it were a javelin. A cry of pain; the firing, stopped.
Tanner supported himself against the wall under the window. In the flashes of lightning he could see the blood rolling down over the cinderblock.
He was alive, and that was remarkable.
He turned and went back toward his wife and children. Ali held the still screaming Janet. Thee boy had turned his face into the wall and was weeping uncontrollably.
"Leila! Jesus, God! Leila!" Bernie's hysterical roar portended the worst. "Leila, whe
re are you?"
"I'm here," Leila said quietly. "I'm all rights, darling."
Tanner found Leila against the front wall. She had not followed his command to move.
And then Tanner saw something which struck his exhausted mind. Leila wore a large greenishh brooch—he hadn't noticed it before. He saw it clearly now, for it shone in the dark. It was iridescent, one of those mod creations sold in fashionable boutiques. It was impossible to miss in the darkness.
A dim flash of lightning lit up the wall around her. Tanner wasn't sure but he was close to being sure, there were no bullet markings near her.
Tanner held his wife and daughter with one arm and cradled his son's head with the other. Bernie ran to Leila and embraced her. The wail of a siren was heard through the sounds of the outside storm, carried by the blasts of wind through the smashed windows.
They remained motionless, spent beyond human endurance. Several minutes later they heard the voices and the knocking upstairs.
"Tanner! Tanner! Open the door!"
He released his wife and son and walked to the broken front window.
"We're here. We're here, you Goddanmed filthy pricks."
Tanner had seen these two patrolmen numerous times in the Village, directing traffic and cruising in radio cars, but he didn't know their names. They had been recruited less than a year ago and were younger than Jenkins and McDermott.
Now he attacked. He pushed the first policeman violently against the hallway wall. The blood on his hands was smudged over the officer's raincoat. The second patrolman had dashed down the basement stairs for the others.
"For Christ's sake, let go!"
"You dirty bastard! You fucking punk! We could have been . . . would have been killed down there! All of us! My wife! My children! Why did you do that? You give me an answer and give it to me quick!"
"Goddamn it, let go! Do what? What answer, for God's sake?"
"You passed this house a half hour ago! You saw the Goddamn flashlight and you beat it! You racedout of here!"
"You're crazy! Me and Ronnie been in the north end! We got a transmission to get over here not five minutes ago. People named Scanlan reported shots. . ."
The Osterman weekend Page 18