Snipers were taking out windows, trying to keep resistance from inside as low as possible.
Mahoney liked to call this drill "five minutes of panic and thrills," but I always dreaded it. To me, it was more like "five minutes closer to heaven or hell." I didn't need to be here, but Ned and I had done a couple of assaults together and I couldn't stay away.
A booming, earsplitting explosion took out the back door.
Suddenly, there were swirling clouds of black smoke and debris everywhere; then we were both running through it. I was hoping not to catch a bullet to the head or some other exposed body part in the next couple of minutes. I was hoping nobody had to die tonight.
Ned and I took fire right away, and we couldn't even tell who the hell was shooting at us. Drug dealers or the SWAT guys. Maybe both.
The sound of submachine guns and then grenades was deafening in the hallways and as we inched up a set of winding stairs. There was a whole lot of firepower inside the building now, maybe too much for it to hold together. The noise level made it hard to think straight or keep any focus.
"Hey! Assholes!" I heard somebody shout from above us. A volley of gunshots followed. Flashes of blinding light in the darkness.
Then Ned grunted and went down hard on the stairway.
I couldn't tell where he was hit at first; then I saw a wound near his collarbone. I didn't know if he'd been shot or struck with flying debris. There was a lot of blood spilling from the wound though.
I stayed right there with him, called for help on the radio. I heard more blasts, shouts, male and female screams coming from above us. Chaos.
Ned's hands were shaking, and I hadn't seen him show fear of anything before. The firefight raging in the building only added to the terror and confusion. Ned's face had lost its color; he didn't look good.
"They're coming for you," I told him. "Stay with me, Ned. You hear me?"
"Stupid," he finally said, groaning. "Walked right into it."
"You feeling it yet?"
"Could be worse. Could be better too. By the way," he said, " you're hit too."
Chapter 29
"I'LL LIVE," I told Ned as I huddled over him on the stairwell.
"Yeah, me too. Probably, anyway."
A couple of minutes later, the paramedics were with us in the cramped space. By the time they got Ned out of there, the gunfight seemed to be over. Just like he always said – five minutes of panic and thrills.
Reports started to come in. Captain Tim Moran gave the latest to me himself. The assault on the heroin factory seemed to have had mixed results. Most of us felt we shouldn't have gone in so soon – but it wasn't our decision. Two metro officers and two from HRT were wounded on our side. Ned was headed into surgery.
There were six casualties among those inside the building, including two men from SWAT. A seventeen-year-old mother of two was one of the dead. For some reason she'd stayed inside when the lab workers came out. The girl's husband had died too. He was sixteen.
I finally got home at a little past six in the morning. I was dragging, wasted, bone tired, and something about coming in so late, or early, seemed surreal.
It only got worse. Nana was up waiting in the kitchen.
Chapter 30
SHE WAS SITTING OVER toast and a cup of tea, looking infirm, but I knew better.
The hot beverage was steaming, and so was she. She hadn't gotten the kids up yet. Her small TV was tuned to the local news reports on last night's police action at Kentucky and Fifteenth. It felt unreal to see the footage right here in our kitchen.
Nana's eyes fixed on the scrape on the side of my forehead – the bandage there.
"It's a scratch," I said. "Not a big deal. It's all good. I'm fine."
"Don't give me that ridiculous nonsense answer, Alex. Don't you dare condescend to me like I'm somebody's fool. I'm looking at the line of trajectory taken by a bullet that came an inch from splattering your brains and leaving your three poor children orphans. No mother, no father. Am I wrong about that? No, of course not!
"I am so sick of this though, Alex. I have been living with this sort of terrible dread every single day for over ten years. This time I've had it. Up to here. I've truly had enough. I'm done with it. I'm through! I quit! Yes, you heard me correctly. I quit you and the children! I quit!"
I put up both my hands in defense. "Nana, I was out with the kids when I got an emergency call. I had no idea the call was coming. How could I? There was nothing I could do to stop what happened."
"You accepted the call, Alex. Then you accepted the assignment. You always do. You call it dedication, duty. I call it total insanity, madness."
"I. Didn't. Have. An. Option."
"You do have an option, Alex. That's my whole point. You could have said no, that you were out with your kids. What do you think they would do, Alex – fire you for having a life? For being a father? And if by some accident of good fortune they did fire you, then so be it."
"I don't know what they could do, Nana. Eventually I suppose they would fire me."
"And is that such a bad thing? Is it? Oh, forget it!" she said, and banged her mug down hard against the tabletop. "I'm leaving!" she said.
"Oh, for God's sake, this is ridiculous, Nana. I'm totally exhausted. I was shot. Almost shot. We'll talk about it later. I need to sleep right now"
Suddenly Nana stood up, and she moved in my direction. Her face was wild with outrage, her eyes tiny black beads. I hadn't seen her like this in years, maybe not since I was growing up, and a little on the wild side myself.
" Ridiculous? You call this ridiculous? How dare you say that to me."
Nana struck me in the chest with the heels of both her hands. The blows didn't hurt, but their intent did, the truth of her words did. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm just tired."
"Get yourself a housekeeper, a nanny, whatever you can get for yourself. You're exhausted? I'm exhausted. I'm fed up and exhausted and sick to death of worrying about you!"
"Nana, I'm sorry. What else do you want me to say?"
"Nothing, Alex. Don't say anything. I'm tired of listening to you anyway."
She stomped off to her room without another word. Well, at least that was over, I thought as I sat down at the kitchen table, tired and depressed as hell now.
But it wasn't over.
Minutes later, Nana reappeared in the kitchen, and she was lugging an ancient leather suitcase and a smaller traveling bag on wheels. She walked past me, through the dining room, and then right out the front door without another peep.
"Nana!" I called, struggling up from my seat, then starting to jog after her. "Stop. Please, stop and talk to me. Let's talk."
"I'm through talking!"
I got to the door and saw a dented and gashed pale-blue DC Cab throwing off exhaust fumes and plumes of smoke out front on the street. One of her many cousins, Abraham, drove for DC Cabs. I could see the back of his retro Afro from the porch.
Nana climbed into the ugly blue taxi, and it immediately sputtered away from the house.
Then I heard a small voice. "Where's Nana going?"
I turned and lifted Ali, who had snuck around behind me on the porch. "I don't know, little man. I think she just quit on us."
He looked aghast. "Nana quit our family?"
Chapter 31
MICHAEL SULLIVAN WOKE with an awful shudder and a start and knew immediately he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. He'd been dreaming about his father again, the scary bastard, the boogeyman of all his nightmares.