Stevenson hurriedly backed away, babbling as he went: “I don’t want anybody killed! I promised there’d be full cooperation! We’re insured, it’s all right, they’re only after the money—”
Garrison came a quick step in from the door. His hand was near his holstered revolver, but not quite touching it. He saw Keegan suddenly, and tensed, frowning. Parker said, “Over here, Dan, here’s where the gun is.” Garrison looked quickly toward the voice, and now he saw Parker and the gun. He made no move, but his expression got more grim.
Keegan, still watching through the mirror, said, “They’re getting interested.” Meaning one or more of the people in the other room had seen Stevenson’s odd moves and were beginning to wonder.
Parker said, “Dan, lie down on your face. Don’t make me shoot your kneecap. I could set off a bomb in here tonight, nobody’d hear it anywhere outside. Get down.”
“You’re not going to—”
“We don’t have time, Dan. Down or I shoot, and I mean now.”
Stevenson, backed up against the front of the desk and leaning backward against it for support, cried, “For God’s sake, do it! It isn’t worth getting killed over!”
“You’ll pay,” Garrison said grimly, and got slowly down onto the floor.
Parker lifted the phone up to his ear again. “Beau?” 37 “Who is this, dammit?”
Keegan said, “The woman’s talking to him. About the scene in here.”
Parker said, “Beau, I want to tell you Dan Garrison is lying on his face in RG Stevenson’s office, and two men have guns pointed at him. If you do anything hasty or stupid, they’ll kill Dan and then rise up and kill you through the glass. You look at RG now, and he’ll nod to tell you what I’m saying is true. Nod, RG.”
Parker looked up, and saw Stevenson’s head lower and raise; a mechanical move, as though he were a newly completed robot trying the motion for the first time.
Keegan said, “Hand over!”
“Get your hand off the mouthpiece, Beau! Don’t wake Hal up, you’ll just make trouble. Now turn your back to RG’s office. Keep the phone up to your face, and put your other hand on top of your head. Leave it there.”
Keegan said, “He’s done it.”
Keeping an eye on Garrison, who was prone with his head arched up so he could see what was going on, Parker got his feet under him and stood. “Move to the left, RG,” he said, and when Stevenson moved leftward, Parker had an unobstructed view of the room.
Everybody in there knew by now that something was wrong. Pressbury—a man about Dockery’s age, but more gone to seed—was on his feet now and walking toward Lavenstein, a worried frown on his face. The three male clerks were all still at their desks, but none of them were working. All were looking at Lavenstein, who was facing them and not saying anything. The woman clerk— hers was the front desk, the one with the phone—was standing beside Lavenstein, looking this way. Parker saw her see him and clutch at Lavenstein’s side; in the earpiece of the phone he could faintly hear her saying something to Lavenstein and then Lavenstein’s irritable voice, loud and clear, saying, “I know, I know.”
To Keegan, Parker said, “Take Dan.” Into the phone he said, “Beau, tell Hal to stand where he is. Go on, tell him.”
“Stop there, Hal. They’ve got guns on us, stop there.”
“Tell him to put his hands on his head.”
“They say to put your hands on your head. Better do it, I guess.”
“Tell him to turn left.”
“They say turn left.”
“Tell him to back up until he’s against the door.” Which would be the nearer door.
“They say you should back up against the door.”
“Tell the clerks to go over and sit on the sofa. The woman, too.”
“They want you people to go sit on the sofa.” The woman’s voice yammered; her expression through the glass was outraged. “You, too, Mrs. Kimberly. Yeah, but you better do it. They’ve got the upper hand now.”
Keegan said, “He’s de-fused.” He got to his feet with his own gun in his right hand and Garrison’s revolver in his left. “Only the one gun on him.”
The male clerks were all moving toward the sofa, the woman last and with the most reluctance. At the sofa, one of the male clerks suddenly bolted for the other door. The people around him all looked startled. He yanked the door open and dashed outside.
Keegan. calmly opened the door between the rooms and headed down the window side of the room to cover everybody from the other end.
The clerk who’d made a dash for it backed into the room, hands over his head. In response to an order, he lowered one hand and shut the door. Keegan said something to him, and he sat down on the sofa. The others all joined him.
Parker said, “RG, go next door and stand against the wall between Hal and the others.” He waited till Stevenson was in position, then said, “Okay, Dan, you can get up now.”
Garrison got to his feet. He looked grim and angry. He stared at Parker and seemed to consider saying something, but just shook his head.
Parker said, “Go next door, Dan, and stand to this side of Hal.”
Parker followed Garrison through and went over behind Lavenstein to take the revolver out of his holster and put it in his own hip pocket. Then he said, “Hang up the phone, Beau. Go over and stand with your back to the door your friend ran out of.”
Keegan was down at the other end, back to the filing cabinets, automatic pointed in the general direction of the people along the side wall.
Parker walked over to Hal Pressbury, who was looking cranky and crotchety, and who said, “You people can’t get away with this sort of thing. You think this is the Wild West?”
“Turn around, Hal.”
“So you can shoot me in the back? You’ll have to look me in the eye, you son of a bitch.”
“Hal, you either turn around so I can disarm you, or I’ll have to knock you out.”
“I’ll meet you face to face.”
Parker put the automatic in his left hand, raised his right fist in front of his shoulder, and punched Pressbury between the eyes. Pressbury’s head snapped back, bouncing off the door, and his face went slack. With a hand to his chest, Parker kept him from falling forward and let him slide down the door to a sitting position. Then he took Pressbury’s revolver, patted him briefly to be sure he had no other weapons, and backed away from him.
Garrison said tightly, “That’s something else you’ll pay for.”
“We may pay later,” Parker said, turning his head back and forth so they’d know he was talking to all of them, “but any one of you people who disobeys us will pay now.” He walked over to the sofa, keeping the automatic in his left hand, and stood in front of the clerk who’d tried ducking out the door. “Stand up,” he said.
The clerk was afraid now. “What do you want from me?”
“You’ve disobeyed once. Don’t make it twice. Stand up.”
The woman, sitting beside him, said, “You’d better do what he says, George.”
George, blinking, trying to fit an expression of bravado onto his face, leaned forward to get up and Parker hit him on the nose. George bounced back into the sofa, and Parker waited to see if his nose would start bleeding. The woman said something shocked and angry, everybody stirred, and George put his hand to his face. When he took it away to look at it, his fingertips were red; a drop of blood hit his shirt.
The woman said, “Oh, you’re bleeding!” and started busily to reach into her sleeve.
Parker said, “Nobody touches him. He doesn’t use a handkerchief or a tissue or any cloth. George? You can put your head back, but keep your hands away from your face.”
The woman said, “You people are inhuman!”
“Then you should be very cautious with us,” Parker said. He turned his back on them all and went over to the nearest desk, where he put down the automatic and took the two guards’ guns from his hip pockets. Behind him, he knew they were all watching George, who was in a position none of them would want to be in for himself; not dangerous, but uncomfortable and humiliating. Head back, blood dribbling from his nose, having to gulp and gasp when he breathed. Nobody else would want to wind up like that, so the others would be less likely now to try something stupid.