The shooter was on the ground, but he was moving, and there was still a gun in each hand. Ham was approaching him, his gun in both hands, and Holly ran up beside him. “I’ll get one hand,” she said.
“Right,” Ham said, but his eyes never left the shooter.
Holly saw a woman from the Barn approaching from Fifth Avenue, holding a gun. There seemed to be guns everywhere. Holly walked up to the shooter and put her foot on his right wrist, while Ham did the same to his left. She put her weight on his wrist, and his hand opened. She bent and picked up his gun, while Ham took the other one, but she did not let her attention stray from the shooter.
“Ham,” she said, “do you still have that Orchid Beach P.D. badge I gave you?”
“Yep,” Ham said.
“Get it out and wave it when the cops come. We don’t want them shooting at us.”
“Right.” Ham was digging in his pocket.
Then cops came from everywhere.
TEDDY GOT OFF the elevator on the sixth-floor men’s department, turned right and walked into the men’s room. He went into a stall, reversed his coat so that the raincoat side was now out, folded his felt hat and put it into the coat pocket, took a tweed cap from the other pocket and put that on, then pulled off the Vandyke and nose and put those in his pockets.
He left his shopping bag on the toilet seat, went to a sink and turned on the water, then checked his reflection. There were bits of spirit gum clinging to his face and he wiped it clean with a damp towel. He left a dollar for the attendant, then walked out of the men’s room, past the elevators to the escalator, donning a pair of heavy, black-rimmed glasses as he walked. As he started down he saw two men walking very quickly away from him through the men’s department, gun hands in their pockets, talking into their fists. He began walking down the escalator to make his descent faster.
HOLLY FRISKED THE DOWNED SHOOTER for more weapons and found none, just the two.45s, but he had half a dozen full magazines in his overcoat pockets. He had stopped moving, now, and she thought he must be dead. “Ham, how many rounds did you fire?”
“Two,” Ham replied.
Two holes in the man’s chest were oozing blood.
“I heard two more,” Holly said.
“So did I, but it wasn’t me. The gun noise was a little light, maybe a.380.”
Holly looked at the woman from the team, “Did you fire your weapon?”
“No,” the woman said.
“Who did?” Holly asked.
“I think it was Teddy Fay,” she replied.
Then the police were in charge. Holly identified herself and Ham, and they talked to a detective for half an hour as he covered the scene.
“He’s got two holes in his chest and two in his back,” the detective said. “Who was the other shooter?”
“I’ve no idea,” Holly replied.
FIFTY-ONE
LANCE WAS SITTING AT HIS DESK, disconsolately working his way through some administrative paperwork, when his cell phone vibrated on his belt.
“Yes?”
A man’s excited voice riveted his attention. “He’s in Saks!” he panted.
“Who?”
“Teddy Fay. There was some sort of commotion and gunfire over at Rockefeller Plaza, and I spotted a man who fits the description crossing the street and ducking into the store. Request maximum backup!”
“Easy now,” Lance said. “Did anybody else make him?”
“Martin did; she radioed me, and I was on my way when I saw the guy. He matched the description.”
“Give me the description?”
“Six feet, slim, wearing a tweed overcoat and a regular felt men’s hat, broken nose, mustache and chin whiskers, brown. He was carrying a shopping bag, a red one, filled with wrapped presents.”
“I’ll have people there shortly,” Lance said. “In the meantime, have your team cover the main floor exits; don’t let him leave the store.”
“Got it.”
Lance closed his cell phone, picked up his desk phone and entered a twelve-digit number that would ring the cell phones of every man and woman in his unit. “Listen up, everybody; Teddy Fay has been spotted at Saks Fifth Avenue, that’s between Forty-ninth and Fiftieth. Everybody converge on Saks right now, no delay. When last seen Fay was wearing a tweed topcoat, a felt hat, a broken nose and a brown Vandyke beard. He’s carrying a red shopping bag with wrapped gifts inside.” He repeated the instructions, then dialed the front desk. “This is Cabot; I want a car out front now.” He ran for the elevator.
HOLLY WAS TALKING to a police detective when her cell phone rang and she got Lance’s message. “I have to go,” she said. “I’ll talk to you, Lieutenant, later.”
“You can’t go,” the detective said. “This is a police investigation.”
“No,” she said, “it’s a national security matter. Mr. Barker will continue to talk to you.” She sprinted toward Fifth Avenue, grateful that she had not worn high heels. Traffic was at a standstill, and she threaded her way through it and ran into Saks through the center revolving doors. She immediately spotted a team member guarding the entrance and ran up to him. “What’s the word?”
“He’s upstairs somewhere,” the man replied. “Lance is scrambling everybody. In the meantime, we’re to watch the exits; we can use your help.”
“How did he get upstairs?”
“Elevator. An agent saw him.”
Holly ran for the rear of the store. She was about to go for the elevators when she saw the escalator. That would give her at least a quick look at each floor. She got on and headed up. On the second floor she got off, looked slowly around for as far as she could see. No tweed topcoat, not that he would still be wearing that. She got back on the escalator and began ascending, looking for a man with no coat at all.
AS TEDDY REACHED the fifth floor he caught sight of someone coming up the escalator whose clothes he coveted. The man got off on five, and so did Teddy. He followed the man, who turned immediately through a door marked “Employees Only.”
Teddy followed him to a men’s room, and as the man stood at a urinal, Teddy fetched him a hard chop across the back of his neck. The man collapsed as if he had no legs.
Teddy stripped off the man’s outer clothing and got into his outfit. He put his tweed cap in a pocket, then pulled off the man’s beard and put it on. A quick check of the mirror, and he was out of there, headed for the escalator.
He had no sooner stepped onto it than he saw, coming up, a red tam. Holly looked up and directly at him, then looked away. Had she spotted him? Maybe, but she wouldn’t recognize him. He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead as she passed him going up.
Teddy continued to the ground floor and got off the escalator. He walked, but not too quickly, toward the 49th Street exit, and as he did, people passing him waved and said, “Merry Christmas!” to him. “Merry Christmas!” he said back, and occasionally, “Ho, ho, ho.”
He saw the woman with the baby carriage standing between him and the door. She no longer had the carriage, and she was looking desperately around the ground floor. “Merry Christmas,” he said as he passed her.
“Yeah, same to you,” she said, not looking at him.
Out on the sidewalk Teddy started walking toward Madison Avenue, looking for a cab. The air was filled with sirens, and people were still running away from Rockefeller Center. He made it to Madison and got lucky with the bus. A moment later, he was riding up Madison, and at 50th Street, he got a glimpse of the continuing chaos. He sat down next to a little boy.
“Hi, Santa,” the boy said.
“Hi, there. Merry Christmas,” Teddy said.
“Can I have a micro-motorcycle for Christmas this year?”