'Andy! Listen to me! This is Tess, your wife. Don't go on with this, g et back to your car. Wait until Danny Schneider joins up with you, consult with him, don't do this alone, you're going to be killed if you go on.'
She stopped, thinking how English she sounded, how polite and reasonable. In the old days Andy had sometimes teased her when a Liverpool phrase or a bit of slang from childhood crept into her speech. She'd always been able to imitate Ringo Starr better than anyone else around them; Andy had liked that.
'I don't think you should be doing this, Andrew,' she said, trying to capture Ringo's nasal tones.
But Andy went on, disregarding everything she said. Three more uniformed police directed him to the admin block, and one of them travelled up in the elevator with him. Andy made polite smalltalk with the cop: he had a family, lived in Abilene, his wife was expecting another baby. He had a rolling Texas accent, most words given an extra syllable, and he called Andy
'sir' with every reply.
What it was to hear Andy's voice again! Slightly gruff, with a trick in some of the sounds, like he needed to clear his throat, but it was always there, just the noise he made when he spoke.
'I love you, Andy!' she cried desperately. 'Stop this! please ... leave with me! You're not needed here! Let's wait in the car until the cops have caught the man!'
There followed a short interview between Andy and the mall administrator, a woman called Betty Nolanski. Mrs
Nolanski's main concern was the fact that the mall had only been fully open for three months. Last year two of the major chains had cancelled their leases at the eleventh hour, and she thought this incident might scare away more. She told Andy there were still fourteen major units standing empty. She wanted the gunman removed immediately, and with no more publicity.
Andy and Mrs Nolanski walked down together to the main floor while this was being said.
Teresa said, 'Tell her she's in a boom town, Andy. She wants to see a place with economic problems, she should go to Bulverton.'
A t ground level the news was that Aronwitz had still not been apprehended. Andy asked Mrs Nolanski if there were any utility ducts or tunnels by which the service bay could be reached, and at once a buildings manager was instructed to show him where the entrances were. Andy had to explain that his role here was advisory only, and that Lieutenant Hanson should be given the plans of the utility area of the building.
Teresa felt panic rising in her as time went on ticking by. She knew that this incident was approaching its bloody end, and that she could not influence it in any way.
Noninteractive, it had said in the index heading.
Trying again, she said urgently, 'Andy, can you hear me? Andy! Listen to me! You're going to get hurt! Leave this to the police. This is their problem, not yours!'
She thought about aborting from the scenario, trying one of the others that dealt with Aronwitz, but she knew from her training that interdiction scenarios were mastered only by repeated attempts to get them right.
Andy left the administrator, and headed back towards the police lines. Once outside, in the broiling heat once more, he went straight to Captain Tremmins to be given a status update.
Some of Hanson's men had entered the service area through utility tunnels under the bays, but Aronwitz had shot his second hostage a few minutes ago and then disappeared.
Treminins was presently out of contact not only with the SWAT team but also with his own men who were supposed to be keeping Aronwitz under surveillance.
Andy said, 'Then he's gone underground too. You think your SWAT guys can take him out?
They done this kind of thing before?'
Some,' said Tremmins.
'Let's get round to the utility area. If he's going to break out, that's where it will have to be.'
'Yes, Andy,' Teresa said fervently, in his mind. 'That's where he'll be. Stop doing this! My God! Stop doing this, Andy!'
It was an area beneath the shadow of the service area of the malclass="underline" a large concrete yard, with waste silos, batteries of extractor fans, an electricity substation, and several huge fuel tanks.
Suddenly, word came through on the radio that the SWAT team had located Aronwitz, who had fired some shots, eluded them, and was heading this way.
Tremmins ordered his men to take cover, and around twenty police officers circled the area with their guns.
Aronwitz burst into view, gun in hand. When he saw the police he halted, almost overbalancing from the loading platform he was on.
'Freeze, Aronwitz! Throw down your weapon!'
Instead, Aronwitz stood erect, and made a circling motion with his gun, a deliberate, wide swinging of the arm. He cocked the weapon, the click audible in every part of the yard.
Teresa stared in disbelief. The gunman was Gerry Grove.
Andy stood up, reacting to her shocked realization. Grove/Aronwitz saw the movement and turned towards
him. Teresa watched, frozen in terror, as Grove levelled the gun at Andy, steadied his hand by gripping his wrist, and slowly squeezed the trigger.
just as she had shown him.
Teresa desperately recalled LIVER, and managed to withdraw an instant before Grove shot Andy in the head, smashing away most of the top of his skull.
Copyright C GunHo Corporation in all territories
Teresa stared in horror at the image of the GunHo corporate logo as she heard the roar of the bullets of Captain Tremmins' men blowing away the gunman. Darkness fell.
Sharon was still on duty in the simulators, and as soon as Teresa was sitting up the technician came into the recovery cubicle and removed the nanochips. Teresa's mind was swirling with images of Andy: his voice, his large strong body, his way of walking, the calm and professional manner in which he had set up the circumstances that led to his own death.
Entering that scenario had been everything she had once dreaded such an experience would be: a terrible closeness to Andy, a more terrible distance, and a total inability to save his life.
That she had at last learned how he died was small recompense. None, in fact. She sat in morbid silence, going through an echoing reminder of her distress of the previous year, trying to cope, trying not to be overwhelmed by her feelings.
Sharon seemed equally preoccupied, but the business with the credit card went ahead smoothly, and Teresa slipped the paperwork into a zipped pocket of her new tote bag. She checked the time: less than an hour had elapsed while she had been in the Aronwitz scenario.
The date was still June 3.
Sharon was uncommunicative, and seemed anxious to move on to her next task. Teresa asked her what the matter was.
'There's something happening in the town,' Sharon said. 'It's been on the radio. The staff have been told we can't leave the building until the police say it's safe.'
'I thought 1 heard sirens earlier.'
'They say that someone's going around with a gun. There are police outside the building now.
They think the gunman was seen up here earlier.'
Teresa nodded, but said nothing. Sharon left her, so Teresa walked back to the computer cubicles, and found a terminal that was not in use. She put down her bags on the chair, and went into the Ladies' restroom.
Alone, she sagged. She could not help herself. she locked herself in one of the toilet cubicles and gave way to the grief. The tears flooded out. Someone else came into the restroom, used another toilet, and left again. Teresa managed to stem her tears until she was alone, then once more allowed her feelings to pour out.