''Well, fuck that,'' LaChaise said. ''Let's see what your old man says.''
Weather took a breath: it was a start. ''You're bleeding,'' she said. ''We could get a first-aid kit.''
TWENTY-NINE
THE DRIVER OF THE SQUAD HAD HIS FOOT TO THE floor, his partner, braced for impact, screaming, ''Slow it down, slow it down,'' and they skidded through the first corner and nearly off the street, then they were on Washington headed toward University Hospitals.
Dispatch came back: ''We don't know what the situation is, but she's still alive. He's got her on the third floor, in surgery. Wait a minute, wait a minute, he's calling in on 911, he wants to talk to you…''
Lucas shouted, ''No. I don't want to talk. He wants me to hear him shoot her.
Tell him you're trying to get in touch.''
''Got that.''
He sat clutching the handset, the street reeling by. Then Dispatch again: ''You asked for a number at U.S. West.''
''Yeah, yeah.'' He'd almost forgotten, but he took the cellular phone from his pocket and punched the number in as the dispatcher read it.
The phone was answered instantly: ''Johnson.''
''This is Lucas Davenport. I was supposed to call here tofind out what numbers this phone has been calling.''
''Yeah. We've got the number now, we're reading it now, we'll check the billings and get back to you. You can hang up.''
''Get it quick,'' Lucas said. ''Soon as you can.''
''It'll take a few minutes.''
''Whatever. Call me back at the number,'' Lucas said, and he hung up, got on the handset, and said, ''What's happening?'' and the cop in the passenger seat lifted his hands to ward off an oncoming car, but the driver slipped it to the left and then hooked down a ramp and they were on the bridge.
Dispatch: ''He's still in the operating room. Another doctor's going in and out.
We've got two cars there, we've got an ERU team a minute away. Listen, the chief wants to talk…''
Lucas said, ''You're breaking up… I'll get back.''
He turned the handset off and said, ''Stay off the radio, guys.''
''Why?'' asked the white-faced cop in the passenger seat.
''Because Roux wants to take me off this, and I can't do that.''
THEY FLASHED UP THE HILL ON THE FAR SIDE OF THE river, made the turn and slewed down Harvard toward the hospital's front entrance. As they braked to a stop,
Lucas said, ''Pop the door,'' and they popped it, and he climbed out with the cops and said to the driver, ''I owe you big time,'' and they all ran into the building.
A half-dozen security guards were in the lobby, and Lucas held up his ID and said, ''What's the deal?''
''They're out of the operating room. They're in an office.''
''Any cops up there?''
''Yeah, but they can't see down through the doors.''
''Let's go up,'' Lucas said. He'd observed at several ofWeather's operations, trying to learn a little about her life. He knew the operating suite, and most of the adjoining offices and locker rooms. They rode up in the elevator, and when they got off, were met by two uniforms, who saw Lucas and looked relieved.
''He's down there, Chief. He's got her in a back office, and he's asking for you,'' one of the cops said.
''You got a phone line into him?''
''Yeah, but he says don't call unless it's you.''
''All right.'' He turned to the security guard. ''I need an exact floor plan, and all the nurses and doctors who work inside.''
''You gonna call?'' one of the cops asked.
''Not yet,'' Lucas said. ''And I don't want anyone to tip him off that I'm here.
We gotta figure something out.''
WEATHER WAS FIGHTING LACHAISE. SHE'D COME OUT from behind the desk, rolling out of the office chair, and she said, ''I hope everything goes okay for Betty. I wish you'd come a half hour later.''
LaChaise was standing, holding the door open just a crack, peering down the long hall to the double doors. Davenport, when he arrived, should be coming around the corner just in front of the doors, a thirty- or forty-foot shot. But he was half listening to Weather, and he said, ''Yeah?''
''She's a farm kid,'' Weather said. ''If she loses that thumb, she'll have a tough time of it. I don't know how you work around a farm without a right thumb.
I know I couldn't.''
''What do you know about farms?'' LaChaise snapped, looking at her now.
''I grew up in northern Wisconsin-I'm a country kid,'' Weather said. She didn't say, like your wife and sister. ''Other doctors start out dissecting frogs or something; I started outtaking Johnson twenty-fives apart, and putting them back together again.''
''I had a Johnson twenty-five once,'' LaChaise said. ''Hell, I guess everybody did, who had a boat up north.''
''Just about,'' she agreed. ''My old man…''
She went on for a bit, talking about her family. She got LaChaise to talk about
Colfax and the UP, and she told him about ski trips to the UP, and it turned out that they both knew some of the same bars in Hurley. ''From Hayward to Hurley to
Hell,'' she said.
He laughed abruptly, winced and said, ''Ain't that the truth.''
''Are you hurt bad?'' she asked.
''I got some shit in my legs… cop at the other hospital got me with a shotgun.''
''Want me to look?''
''No.''
She was about to push him on it, when the phone rang. ''That's him,'' LaChaise said. His eyes flicked over to her.
Not yet, she thought. Please, not yet. She had him going…
LUCAS MUTTERED TO THE COP, ''REMEMBER ABOUT Martin…''
''Yeah, yeah.''
He dialed and LaChaise picked it up.
''Chief Davenport is on the way. He was in the ambulance with your friend, the
Martin guy.''
''Martin's alive?''
''Yeah, but he's hurt,'' the cop said. ''He got hit in the legs and he surrendered. He'll be okay.''
''Martin?'' There was wonderment in LaChaise's voice. ''You gotta be shittin' me.''
''You got a radio or TV? They'll be carrying him into the hospital.''
''Ain't got no TV,'' LaChaise said, looking around the office. ''What about
Sandy?''
''Who?''
''Sandy Darling, she was with us.''
''Oh. Yeah. I guess they can't find her,'' the cop said. Then, ''Anyway, Chief
Davenport wants you to know that he's coming. He'll be here in five minutes.''
''Don't call back until he gets here,'' LaChaise said.
LACHAISE TURNED TO WEATHER AND SAID, ''THEY SAY Martin made it.''
''Good.''
''I don't believe them.''
''You can't tell what a person'll do when he's hurt bad enough. I've had all kinds of weird confessions when I was working in an emergency room. A person thinks he's going to die in the next couple of minutes… something changes,'' Weather said. She looked at his gun. ''I wish you wouldn't keep that pointed at me. I'm not going to beat you up.''
He shifted the muzzle of the gun, just slightly, and she said, ''Thanks,'' and thought, Maybe.
THE ERU TEAM INCLUDEDAYOUNGBLONDIOWANWHO was carrying a Sako Classic. 243 with a fat black Leupold scope. Lucas stepped away from the medical people, who were working out a floor plan, and said, ''How good are you?''
''Very,'' he said.
''You ever shoot anyone?''
''Nope, but I got no problem with it,'' the Iowan said, and his flat blue eyes suggested that he was telling the truth.
''You'll be shooting just about sixty feet, close as we can tell.''
''At sixty feet I won't be more than a quarter-inch off my aim-point.''
''You're sure?''
The kid nodded. ''Absolutely.''
''We need him turned off. He may be pointing a gun at Weather or me.''
''I got a low-power, wide-view scope. I'll be able to see his move-if he's got the gun right at her head, if the hammer's down, I can take him, and your wife's okay. If the hammer's cocked… then it's not so good, maybe fifty-fifty. If he's got the gun at her head, if you can get him to take it away, I'll be able to see it and I'll take him. You need to get him to take it away just a second, just an inch.''