Slightly to the left loomed the tank nearest the fence and row of houses. That was it. He could see nothing on it. According to Gill, Weiss would be on the left side of it. He looked up and down the row of fence for a gate but couldn’t see one. He looked at his watch. Ten-thirty-two.
Turning to his left, he began to walk down the sidewalk. A small, short-haired dog with bulging eyes growled at him from between two barrels of trash. “Beat it, you ugly little bastard,” he said to it. The dog growled again and walked behind him stiff legged. “Take a nip at me and I’ll kick your goddam jaw off.” He continued walking and the dog barked at him but stopped following and turned away.
Rudderham glanced up discreetly along the row of houses to see whether he could spot the one Gill and the rifle boys were in, but was unable to distinguish which one it was. He looked across at the tank. He should be able to see Weiss soon. Around the corner from the row of fence, he could see an open gate and he quickened his pace. Perspiring freely now, he wiped his brow with his handkerchief.
Rudderham glanced again at the tank and his heart quickened. He could see him. The form was huddled between the tank and a supporting girder as Gill had described. He couldn’t see the box but didn’t dare scrutinize too carefully.
When he reached the end of the street, he crossed over and walked along beside the fence until he came to the gate. The tank was about one hundred fifty feet from him and he could see Weiss huddled against it. He thought that Weiss was watching him. He paused and then, keeping his eye on the figure on the tank, walked through the open gate.
Again, he cursed the fate that had made him select demolition those many years ago as a young man in the Army. He felt a sneeze coming but didn’t reach for his handkerchief for fear that Weiss would regard the move as threatening. Tall weeds grew all along the fence and within the enclosure itself. Rudderham stifled the sneeze almost through sheer will but could feel his nose start to run.
He looked to his right at the row of houses he had just walked past, trying once again to spot which one Gill and the others were in. He thought he could guess which it was from the angle Gill had described but he detected nothing in the windows.
He was about sixty feet from the tank when Weiss yelled at him. “Who are you? Get out of here, do you hear me?”
“Mr. Weiss?” Rudderham called, continuing to walk slowly toward the tank. “Mr. Weiss, can I talk to you?”
“You get out of here, do you hear me? I don’t want to talk to anyone.”
“Just for a minute, Mr. Weiss.”
“Who are you? Are you from the police?” asked Weiss. He hadn’t moved his position between the tank and the girder at all.
“Yes, Mr. Weiss, I’m a police officer. But I just want to talk to you, that’s all,” yelled Rudderham.
“I don’t want you to come any closer. You stop right there, you hear me?” screamed Weiss.
Harry Rudderham took another two paces and stopped. He judged himself to be about thirty feet from the tank.
“Now I want you to turn around and walk out of here,” the bomb man said.
“I just want to talk to you, Mr. Weiss. What you are planning to do makes no sense.”
Weiss yelled back, “I won’t talk about it. My mind’s made up.”
“Talking won’t hurt, will it? You’ve probably got a lot of good reasons for wanting to do it.” Harry Rudderham took a few steps forward. “You’re right that people shouldn’t have to live in slums, but it’s a complicated problem.”
“You stop right now or I’ll blow the whole thing up,” shrieked Weiss, holding a box out for Rudderham to see. He held his breath as Weiss shifted his position slightly.
“Mr. Weiss,” shouted Rudderham after a moment. “I think you should at least explain to someone why you’re going to do this. Your note didn’t give much detail, you know.” Conducting the conversation at a yell strained the lieutenant’s allergy-taxed respiratory system. He found himself becoming winded. “Can’t I come a little closer so we don’t have to shout at each other like this?”
Weiss seemed to be regarding Rudderham carefully. Finally he said, “Do you have a gun? You throw your gun down but don’t you try anything.”
Reaching into his back pocket, Harry Rudderham extracted his holster and service revolver. He held it for Weiss to see and then carefully put it on the ground and stepped toward the tank. “Okay, Mr. Weiss. I’m unarmed. I don’t mean you any harm anyway. Like I say, I just want to know more about why you’re going to do this.”
He was almost at the base of the tank. Slightly to his left, a steel ladder ran up the side of the tank. The ladder was an open tube, the rungs a series of circles going up. The tank was far larger than he had imagined one would be. It was strange how you could see something that was so common and never really have any idea of its size or appearance.
Shielding his eyes from the glare with his left hand, he looked up at Weiss. The man was sitting on the next to the top of four ledges that circumscribed the tank. He had the box, whatever it was, beside him. “Yeah, Mr. Weiss, like I said, you’re right about slums being lousy, but how is what you plan to do help all those people?” Rudderham asked, waving his right arm to the row of houses.
“Didn’t you read my note?” Weiss screamed. “Of course, I’m sure you did. The Governor probably won’t even see it which is just the kind of thing I mean. No one takes these evil situations seriously. No one cares except the people trapped. Well, they’ll take it seriously after I’m through.” The man’s voice was shrill and he looked trapped, desperate, like cornered men the lieutenant had seen many times. For the first time, he thought that Weiss might fulfill his threat. The man had moved somewhat but Rudderham could tell that he still hadn’t exposed himself sufficiently to the rifle fire.
If he walked any closer to the tank, he’d be under the ledge and wouldn’t be able to see Weiss. Yet he had to get closer to the man. He needed eye contact.
“Look, Mr. Weiss,” Rudderham said. “I’ve got terrible hayfever, you know. It raises hell with my sinuses, throat, the whole thing. It’s awful hard for me to talk raising my voice this way.” He paused and slowly extracted his handkerchief from his pocket. He blew his nose loudly into it, wiped carefully, and returned it to his pocket. “Do you think I could climb up the ladder a little way and talk to you? I’m unarmed. I can’t do anything to hurt you.”
“You’re right. There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do to hurt someone who’s willing to die for what he believes in. Are you willing to die, Mr. Policeman?”
Harry Rudderham walked toward the tank while part of him said that he should turn the other way. He longed to hear the report of a rifle and see Weiss’s body hurtle from the tank. Please, just let it end like that, that simply.
When he was under the ledge so that Weiss couldn’t see him, he looked at his watch. Three minutes to eleven. He ducked under the loop of the first circle-rung and began to climb. It was about twenty feet to the first ledge. Breathing deeply, legs aching, he forced himself to climb. The ladder was in the full sunlight and the metal was painfully hot to his hands.
When he reached the first ledge, he leaned against the tank, catching his breath. He began to cough, deep racking coughs, raising a thick gob of wretched-tasting slime. He spat it over the side. He wondered whether he’d feel anything if the tank blew. Would he be conscious of the fact of explosion for a split second or would it be a transition from awareness to unawareness with nothing in between?
Rudderham looked up. He could see nothing except the bottom of the next ledge. He’d have to climb up two more ledges if he was to be able to see Weiss. He looked at his watch again. He had wasted eight minutes. Five after eleven. The first traces of panic gnawed at his stomach. The coffee he had had with Helen had turned to acid. How long ago was that?