"What nitro? There is no nitro!"
"I'll knock it to the..
And Hawes leaped.
The gun went off as he jumped, and this time he heard the rushing whoosh of the bullet as it tore past his head, missing him.
He caught at Virginia's right hand as the swung it toward the desk and the bottle of nitroglycerin. He clung to her wrist tightly because there was animal strength in her arm as she flailed wildly at the bottle, reaching for it.
He pulled her arm up over her head and then slammed it down on the desk top, trying to knock the gun loose, and the bottle slid towards the edge of the desk.
He slammed her hand down again, and again the bottle moved, closer to the edge as Virginia's fingers opened and the gun dropped to the floor.
And then she twisted violently in his arms and flung herself headlong across the desk .in a last desperate lunge at the bottle standing not two inches from its edge. She slipped through his grip' and he caught at her waist and then yanked her back with all the power of his shoulders and arms, pulling her upright off the desk, and then clenching his fist into the front of her dress, and drawing his free hand back for a blow that would have broken her neck.
His hand hesitated in mid-air.
And then he lowered it, unable to hit her.
He shoved her across the room and said ouly, "You bitch!" and then stooped to pick up the gun.
Meyer Meyer lifted his battered head.
"What... what happened?" he said.
"It's over," Hawes answered.
Byrnes had moved to the telephone.
"Dave," he said, "get me the Bomb Squad!
Right away!"
"The Bomb..
"You heard me."
"Yes, sir!" Murchison said.
The call from the hospital came at 7:53, after the men bottle from the room. Byrnes took the call.
"Eighty-seventh Squad," he said.
"Lieutenant Byrnes."
"This is Dr. Nelson at General. I was asked to call about the condition of this stabbing victim? Jose Dorena?"
"Yes," Byrnes said.
"He'll live. The blade missed the jugular by about a quarter of an inch. He won't be out of here for a while, but he'll be out alive." Nelson paused.
"Anything else you want to know?"
"No. Thank you."
"Not at all," Nelson said, and he hung up.
Byrnes turned to Angelica.
"You're lucky," he said.
"Kassim'll live. You're a lucky girl."
And Angelica turned sad wise eyes toward the lieutenant and said, "Am
I?"
Murchison walked over to her.
"Come on, sweetie," he said, "we've got a room for you downstairs." He pulled her out of the chair, and then went to where Virginia Dodge was handcuffed to the radiator.
"So you're the troublemaker, huh?" he said to her.
"Drop dead," Virginia told him.
"You got a key for this cuff, Pete?"
Murchison said. He shook his head.
"Jesus, Pete, why didn't you guys say something? I mean, I was sitting down there all this time.
I mean ..." He stopped as Byrnes handed him the key.
"Hey, is that what you meant by "Forthwith'?"
Byrnes nodded tiredly.
"That is what I meant by "Forthwith,"" he said.
"Yeah," Murchison said.
"I'll be damned." Roughly, he pulled Virginia Dodge from the chair.
"Come on, prize package," he said, and he led both women from the squad room passing Kung in the corridor.
"Well, we got Miscolo off okay," Kung said.
"The rest is in the lap of the gods. We sent Meyer along for the ride. The intern seemed to think that face needed treatment.
It's over, huh, Pete?"
"It's over," Byrnes said.
There was noise in the corridor outside.
Steve Carella pushed Mark Scott through the slatted-rail divider and said, "Sit down, Scott. Over there. Hello, Pete. Cotton.
here's our boy. Strangled his own ... Teddy! Honey, I forgot all about you. Have you been waiting long?" He shut his mouth because Teddy rushed into his arms with such fervor that she almost knocked him over.
"We've all been sort of waiting for you," Byrnes said.
"Yeah? Well, that's nice. Absence makes the heart grow fonder." He held Teddy at arm's length and said, "I'm sorry I'm late, baby. But all at once the thing began to jellandl..."
She touched the side of his neck where the blow from the rake had left marks crusted with blood.
"Oh, yeah," he said.
"I got hit with a rake. Listen, let me type my report and away we go. Pete, I'm taking my wife to dinner, and I dare you to say no. We're going to have a baby!"
"Congratulations," Byrnes said wearily.
"Boy, what enthusiasm. Honey, let me type up this report, and away we go. I'm so starved I could eat a horse. Pete, we book this guy for homicide. Where's a typewriter? Anything interesting happen while I was... The phone rang.
"I've got it," Carella said. He lifted the receiver.
"Eighty-seventh Squad, Carella."
"Carella, this is Levy down the Bomb Squad."
"Yeah, hi, Levy, how are you?"
"Fine. And you?"
"Fine. What's up?"
"I got a report on that bottle."
"What bottle?"
"We picked up a bottle there."
"Oh, yeah? Well, what about it?"
Carella listened, inserting a few "Ub-hubs" and "Yeses" into the conversation. Then he said, "Okay, Levy, thanks for the dope," and he hung up. He pulled up a chair, ripped three D.D. sheets from the desk drawer, inserted carbon between them, and then swung a typewriter into place.
"That was Levy," he said.
"The Bomb Squad. Somebody here give him a bottle?"
"Yeah," Hawes said.
"Well, he was calling to report on it."
Hawes rose and walked to Carella.
"What did he say?"
"He said it was."
"It was?"
"That's what the man said. They exploded it downtown. Powerful enough to have blown up City Hall."
"It was," Hawes said tonelessly.
"Yeah." Carella inserted the report forms into the typewriter.
"Was what?" he asked absently.
"Nitro," Hawes said, and he sank into a chair near the desk, and he had on his face the stunned expression of a man who's been hit by a Diesel locomotive.
"Boy," Carella said, "what a day this was!"
Furiously, he began typing.