"Drop the gun, please."
He did.
"Now turn around."
It was a little blonde girl in fatigues too big for her, holding an automatic with both hands. Her eyes widened when she saw the badge. "You are a policeman? Where are the detonators? Quick, tell me."
"On the roof."
"Ah, yes, I see. With two fingers only, please, remove the pistol."
He held it out for her. She dropped it in her kit bag. "Now tell me where on the roof."
"You have to go around to the right. There's a staircase up to the elevator tower and an aluminum box opposite..."
She waggled the pistol. "Show me."
He opened the door. She stayed behind him as they went up the stairs. All but a few of the fluorescent bulbs were gone. Mistake number one. He didn't know what the hell he was going to do when they got to Skeezix's gun. She was being too careful. He wasn't going to get anywhere near it.
"This is really too bad," she said. "You seemed to enjoy killing so much. But you are really only a trained dog. You destroy the building in order to save it."
"Honey, I don't give a flying fuck about the building." He was at the top of the stairs. "I have to open the door."
"Just a moment." He heard the click of her radio switch. She spoke at some length in German. Little Tony answered and then she said, "Nein, nein," like a woman telling a man she didn't need his help. Leland was beginning to think of something else. "Now open the door," she said.
The wind was stronger than ever, a warm, roiling gale out of the hills. The sky was clear in all directions.
"You didn't ask me why I didn't care about the building."
"Are you trying to tell me something, old man? Go on, keep moving."
"You people aren't thinking. Why didn't I just work my way down and out of the building?"
"I want to hear this. I want you to tell me everything. Now, with nothing remaining, you want to justify yourself."
"The detonators are on the other side of that box, Ursula."
"What? That's not my name..." He threw himself at her, and she shot him, once, in the left thigh. But then he was falling on her, and when the gun discharged the second time, the muzzle blast scalded his arm. She was falling, with nothing to absorb the shock. He was afraid that the gun would go off again, and he rolled to the left, away. He punched her in the face, but she tried to get the gun around, and he punched her again. She got his thumb in her mouth and bit down hard. She was trying to knee him in the groin. He grabbed her hair with his other hand and slammed her head down on the roof. She opened her mouth. He punched her again. His leg wasn't broken, thank God. He punched her three more times, and when the fight was out of her, he twisted the gun from her hand and got to his feet and shot her in the right eye. He was shaking with rage and relief and the exultation of victory. He pulled the trigger again. When the gun was empty he pulled the trigger three more times, and the last thing to pass through his mind was the notion of throwing her body off the roof, too, just to let Tony know he still had his store open. And then Leland fainted.
He didn't know how long he had been out, and the time on his watch, 3:38, wasn't much help. The bullet wound was in the flesh on the outside of his thigh, two small holes five inches apart, the exit wound almost as neat as the entry. A patch of blood the size of a pie plate glistened in the reflective light. He crawled behind the aluminum box and set up Skeezix's gun. He had the strap of his kit bag for a tourniquet, but he didn't think he would need it. More gunfire from the street.
Maybe he had been out less than a minute. This time he wasn't going to announce his continued presence. He had another thought: these people weren't getting tired. In addition to their own amphetamines, maybe they had found Ellis's cocaine, too. Assholes they deserved each other. He had a clear view of the staircase door as well as the door leading into the elevator tower. He watched both. No surprises.
"Hannah?" someone called.
The man was coming up the stairs. He could have been close enough to hear the shots. This one would be number eight. The door was hinged to swing Leland's way.
"Hannah?"
The door started to open. Leland got down low.
"Hannah?"
The door was wide open, but no one appeared. The door started to close again, and Leland fired, slamming the door shut. He waited.
"We're going to leave you up here for now," Little Tony called. "But don't worry, we'll be back in the daylight, and then we will kill you. I will kill you myself believe me, it will be better that way."
There was another long burst of automatic rifle fire from the street.
"Hey, Hollenbeck."
"Hey, my man! How are ya?"
"I'm on the roof. I think they've locked the door. I took one in the leg, but it's no big thing. Oh, yeah, scratch one more."
"You're kidding me!"
"She's lying right here beside me. Name of Hannah."
"Ah, shit."
"This is the third woman. I'm almost getting used to it. What's going on down there?"
"Our German ace showed up and he's been giving us their play-by-play. We've got so many radios going down here that I didn't hear anything about women. That's really disgusting."
"Stop being old-fashioned."
"He told us that they were after you, and Robinson tried to get a diversion going. Two things: are you sure about the total number? We are very definitely on hold down here."
"It's what I heard them say. What made Robinson see the light?"
"Well, now we know who you are, man! He's still cursing you out; but at least he knows we all do that he's dealing with somebody who knows what he's doing. That's the second question. The German ace picked up something about you wearing a badge. What's that about?"
"It's just something I had. I put it on so you'll know me when I walk put of here."
"Well, that's what they're for. You go on wearing it. Now we got a deputy chief on the site, fully briefed and in charge. Billy Gibbs says he wishes he was covering you, by the way. Hang on." He had the "Talk" button still depressed, for Leland heard him say, "He got another one. That's seven."
"Son of a bitch." The radio went dead a moment. "Joe? Vince Crane here. We met two years ago in New Orleans."
"How are ya?" He'd been in New Orleans two years ago, but he couldn't place Crane in the huge Los Angeles delegation at that conference.
"I'm okay. I think we're going to be okay with this, thanks to you. I wouldn't want to face twelve of them. Now listen, for now, we think it a good idea to let them speak their piece. We want you to hold tight, if you can. We understand the problem, and we're taking all due care, believe me. Are you going to be all right?"
"When you send out for food, put me down for coffee and a jelly doughnut."
He laughed. "Well, you take it easy for a while. I'll give you back to Sergeant Powell."
"Hey, partner," Leland said.
"That's right, and I'm honored. You have the scam now don't you? More news for you. I was talking with Kathi Logan. She doesn't remember you at all!"
"I'll get you for that, fella."
"No, she said a whole lot of nice things about you, man. All she knows is that you're stuck in a building with some bad people. Now something else: the media are showing up and that's in a big way. They want to patch the two of you in, when they can. You lose your privacy, but it's something."
"I don't want a circus."
"It's a little late for that, kimosabe."
"I'll catch you later, Hollenbeck."
"Call me Al."
"Joe. Later."
"You bet. Take care now."
...4:53 A.M., PST...
Pain awakened him. He knew where he was before he opened his eyes, but it took another moment before he remembered it all, or his memory caught up with the rest of him. He wasn't even sure he could move, he was hurting so badly in so many places. Even his thumb was cut, where Hannah had bitten him. The temperature had dropped or, more likely under the circumstances, his resistance had lowered just that much. Before he had fallen asleep, he had figured he had lost about a pint of blood, or the amount you gave at the blood bank, which was a hell of a lot of blood to lose. The sky was still black. At this time of year, there would be another hour and a half of total darkness.