Day of wrath, p.27
Day of Wrath, page 27
“We can do it, Larry,” Alice Mary said, but her voice betrayed her own disbelief in the statement. “At least we can try,” she added.
Gormley, his eyes still glued on the side door, shook his head. “We might have made it with Hagen and Johnson’s help. But we’ll never pull it off by ourselves.”
“We can use the hostages to trade,” Al Martin said. “God, we can’t give up now.” His tone carried his acknowledgment of defeat.
“They’ll hit us,” Gormley repeated. “Maybe not here, maybe at the airport, but they’ll hit us. You can count on it.”
“I’m prepared to die,” Alice Mary Brennan said, but the words carried no real conviction.
Martin was silent for a moment. “We had better talk this over with Thelma.”
Gormley shook his head. “No reason. Thelma will do what I say.”
Martin nodded. He too had lost his nerve. “Look, maybe we can still bargain. We have the hostages. Maybe we can work out a deal.”
Gormley looked at him. He felt the first relief from the grip of panic. Gormley desperately wanted to quit, but he didn’t want to be the one who suggested it. Now it would look like Martin’s idea.
“Okay,” Gormley said, “I’ll take a shot at it. Cover both those doors.”
Martin walked out into the courtroom. He stood by the vacant judge’s bench, his eyes on the closed rear doors, his gun ready. He glanced down for a moment at Johnson’s body, then quickly looked away.
Alice Mary moved to the office doorway. She still held the live grenade, and her hand felt cramped, but she ignored the discomfort, covering the side door with her pistol.
Gus Simes had remained quiet, but his mind was working with the speed of a computer. He lit a cigarette. The whole situation was changing. He carefully thought about his own future.
Gormley picked up the telephone. “Anyone there?” He tried to keep his voice even and calm.
“Just a minute please,” a female voice answered.
Gormley shut his eyes, trying to force himself to relax. But his heart seemed to be thumping almost audibly within his chest.
“I’m here,” the mayor said at last. “I was down the hall. Look, we have almost all the money, but the airplane is—”
“Whose idea was the shooting?” Gormley’s voice cracked as he spoke.
“What shooting?”
“Don’t give me that shit,” Gormley snapped. “We had an agreement. No tricks, remember?”
“Wait!” The mayor’s panic matched Gormley’s own.
“Listen, it was a mistake. The standing order is not to interfere with you. It won’t happen again.”
Gormley wished that he could believe the man, but he had the bodies of Hagen and Johnson as mute evidence of how much he could rely on the mayor’s quick assurances.
“We have decided,” Gormley spoke slowly, “that we don’t have a chance to make it to the airport.” He paused. “So we have agreed to blow this place up and everyone in it.”
“Wait! Listen, for God’s sake! Don’t do that. You don’t want to die. We’ll do whatever you want.” The mayor spoke so quickly that it was hard to understand him.
Gormley felt very tired. Just the effort of holding the phone seemed exhausting. “We have acted as an army of revolution,” Gormley said softly. “All our acts have been legal acts of war.”
The mayor did not reply at once. “I’m sure they were,” he finally said, his voice alert but wary.
“If we surrender, we demand that we be treated as soldiers.”
There was the sound of muted whispering on the other end of the line.
“Go on,” the mayor said cautiously.
Gormley nodded to himself. “I want a written document stating that there shall be no criminal prosecution resulting from anything that we’ve done.”
Again there was a pause and muted whispering.
“Okay, I can agree to that,” the mayor said quickly. “I’ll have whatever terms you want written up.”
“No prosecution,” Gormley said.
“That’s right,” the mayor now sounded confident. “You will be treated as prisoners of war. If you surrender and release the hostages, I will personally see to it that you are flown to whatever country you choose.”
“In writing,” Gormley repeated.
“All of it will be in writing,” the mayor said.
“I’ll check with the others,” Gormley said. “Hold on.”
Alice Mary Brennan motioned Al Martin to return. He came back into the office. Gormley held the receiver against his chest. “I said we would surrender if we aren’t prosecuted and only if we are treated as prisoners of war. They said they’ll fly us to any country we choose if we give up.”
“Christ, you don’t believe that, do you, Larry?” Al Martin demanded.
Gormley sadly shook his head. “No.” He sighed. “Oh, they’ll come over with a nice legal document, but as soon as we lay down our guns, they’ll charge us with everything in the book.”
“Then what’s the advantage?”
Gormley desperately wanted to end it. “Propaganda,” he replied glibly, determined to sell them on giving up. “Look, we can raise hell in the courts. Using that document, we can speak to the issues and tell the people what’s wrong with this government and this society.”
“But they’ll just rip the damn thing up,” Alice Mary Brennan said.
Gormley stared at her for a moment. “I’ll ask that they send along a lawyer for us. He can keep the document. I’ll make that a part of the deal. I’ll name the right lawyer so that even if they do tear it up, he’ll be able to testify—”
“You people are all fuckin’ nuts!” Gus Simes exploded. “As soon as we say quits, they’ll jam our asses into jail, and no one will ever hear from us again.”
“No,” Gormley said. “We will use the First Amendment—”
Simes, his face shaking with exploding emotion, spoke quickly. “You damned loonies just might get away with it. They wink at this political shit most of the time anyway, but I am charged with first-degree murder, and if you think all this has helped my chances, you got another think coming.”
“We don’t have a chance,” Gormley said.
“Maybe you don’t, maybe you do,” Simes replied. “But I sure as hell don’t, no matter which way you slice the cake.”
“You are part of the World Liberation Army,” Alice Mary Brennan said severely, “and you will obey orders!”
“Fuckin’ broad,” Simes said, leveling his pistol at her. “Gimme that fuckin’ grenade.” He held out his hand. “Now! Goddamn it!”
Gus Simes felt his heart pounding as he took the grenade. He carefully kept the safety lever compressed. The steel explosive felt slimy from the nervous sweat of Alice Brennan’s hand. His own hand was clammy too.
Simes looked at Gormley. The man was white-faced and defeated. Simes felt the same way, only he had no choice. These political fools could probably talk their way into a short prison term, maybe get out altogether. It had happened before. But Simes knew that he would be treated entirely differently. He had a criminal record. He was up on murder charges. There would be no political road out for him. He really didn’t know exactly what he would do, but he knew that he couldn’t surrender. He had to play out the string.
Gus Simes walked into the courtroom. He slid the leather strap of the bag of explosives over his shoulder. He had his pistol in one hand, the live grenade in the other. Simes looked up at the two rows of hostages.
He turned and spoke to Gormley, who watched from the office. “If you want to surrender, that’s your business,” he said. “But you tell the people on the telephone that I am coming out, and I am coming out with a bag of explosives, a live grenade, and a hostage.”
Gormley started to protest.
“Tell them!” Simes commanded.
He looked back at the jury box. He would need the most important hostage. Tingle was out, he couldn’t even walk.’ And the girl hostage was a useless sobbing mess.
Simes’s eyes played over the men in the jury box.
“Stand up, Harbor,” he commanded.
7:08 p.m.
Ace Gilbert, still covering the corridor, moved a few steps so that he could see Ginger Steiner. She looked over the counsel table, her eyes wide with question and concern. Something was bound to happen soon. The stalemate in the other courtroom couldn’t last forever.
“Stay here and keep down,” Gilbert said to the court clerk, who had remained huddled against the rear of the office. The man was too frightened even to nod.
Gilbert stole a quick glance down the hallway. It was still deserted. He took a deep breath, then leaped across the corridor’s opening. There was no gunfire. He kept his pistol leveled at the doorway as he walked backward to Ginger Steiner and Ted Hemmings.
Ace joined them behind the overturned counsel table. Hemmings didn’t look good. His face was taking on the ashen warnings of serious shock.
“Ace, what’s going on?” Ginger whispered as she gripped his arm. Her touch conveyed no panic. Her fingers seemed to signal concern and reassurance.
Ace Gilbert kept his eyes on the corridor. “Some terrorists have taken the judges hostage. The police are bargaining with them now.”
“I saw you go down the hall and I heard the shots…” her voice trailed off.
“Did you hear the screams?”
“Yes,” she replied softly.
“Well, one of the hostages is a woman probation officer named Kathleen Mulloy. They were trying to rape her. I went down there and snapped off a few shots.”
“Did you hit anybody?”
He risked a glance at her. “Yes. I shot two of the terrorists.”
Her grip was almost painful. “You could have been killed.”
Ace Gilbert started to laugh.
“I can’t see the humor,” she said quietly.
“I’m soaked through,” he said. “Ginger, my pulse is racing, and I’m sweating like a horse. I’m honest-to-God scared.”
She looked puzzled. “I would think so.” He looked down at her. “It’s a sensation I haven’t felt for quite a while. It tells me something about myself.”
“What?”
“I’m human.”
For a moment she didn’t reply, her eyes questioning. “I don’t understand, Ace.”
“It’s pretty complicated.” He still watched the doorway. “Remind me and I’ll tell you about it sometime.”
“I’m scared too,” she said very quietly.
“Don’t be,” he said, putting his free arm around her shoulders. Her hair smelled good. “We’re safe here. It’s just a matter of time.” It was a lie. The thick wooden table wouldn’t protect them against bullets, nor would it stop the screaming metal fragments of an exploding grenade. They were anything but safe, but there was no reason she should know.
Hemmings was only semiconscious. Ginger had done a good job of stopping his bleeding, but he needed medical help. Hemmings groaned. Gilbert knew that the pain of a broken leg was terrible. But Hemmings was toughing it out. He admired the man’s courage.
Ginger Steiner was also proving to be something very special. Gilbert knew that most women would have dissolved into tears and panic. Under the circumstances it wouldn’t be an unreasonable reaction. But Ginger had displayed real nerve. She had taken care of the wounded officer without hesitation or question. She was proving herself capable and brave. She was, in his judgment, a very special person. He hugged her tightly as he kept the pistol aimed at the corridor.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
7:15 p.m.
Simes could hear Gormley talking on the telephone. They would know he was coming and they would know about the grenade, the explosives, and Harbor.
The shot-up side door posed an ominous barrier. Police might be waiting beyond, poised for a quick attack when the door opened. Gus Simes clenched his teeth. It had to be done.
“Open the door,” he commanded Judge Harbor.
Harbor turned, his eyes wide with fear, his moustache twitching nervously. “Really, don’t you think—”
“Open the fuckin’ door!” Simes snarled. Harbor reached a shaking hand toward the brass doorknob. He held it a moment before moving and then cautiously opened the heavy wooden door. Simes stood directly behind him, just in case. He could see down the long, narrow hallway. To his great relief it was deserted.
He poked Harbor in the back with his pistol. “Let’s go,” he said.
Harbor jumped and took a few quick steps to the elevator. He stopped and looked at Simes.
“Aw, for Christ’s sake,” Simes growled. “Push the Down button, dummy.”
Obediently, the judge daintily pushed the button. Immediately they could hear the rumble of the elevator motor as it started up.
“I think you’re making a mistake taking me for a hostage,” Harbor said, his voice almost squeaking. “As a matter of fact, the title executive judge is really just an honorary thing. I was going to resign. I mean, I’ve only been executive judge for one month. Judge Powell, the black judge, the one sitting in the first row in the jury box, he was the executive judge for a long time. I think he’d probably be a better choice than—”
“Oh, Jesus!” Simes exploded. “Shut up!”
Harbor’s mouth remained open but no additional words were spoken.
Gus Simes tried to watch everything at once, his head swiveling from one courtroom door to the other. Glancing into the hallway cell he saw Little Chester huddled against the rear of the cell.
“Hey, Chester,” Simes said, his voice taut. “That you?”
“Yeah, Gus. Say, what the hell is going on?”
Simes’s face seemed to sag. “Oh, God, you wouldn’t believe it, Chester. You just wouldn’t believe it.”
The automatic elevator rose, and the doors opened. Simes shepherded Harbor aboard and stepped in after him.
Judge Harbor just stood there.
“Push the goddamned button for the first floor, you stupid shit!” Simes yelled.
Tears welled in Harbor’s eyes as his shaking hand rose and he extended a finger to press the bottom button. The automatic doors slowly closed.
Gus Simes was quivering with fear and excitement. His hands had become slippery. The elevator gave a short jerk as it began to descend. That jerk was just enough to cause the grenade to squirt from Simes’s wet grip. It made a metallic bang as it bounced on the steel floor of the descending car.
Both men reached for it at the same time, colliding into each other. Again, they both tried for it, sending it skidding around the car. Simes made one last desperate grab for it, but missed.
The car reached the main floor just as the grenade blew up, igniting the other explosives in the bag. The force blew out every window in the Criminal Court Building as well as windows in many of the nearby buildings. A boiling, choking smoke cloud billowed from the blown-out windows and doors of the wrecked first floor.
In the executive judge’s courtroom, as smoke poured from the wrecked elevator door in the hall, Larry Gormley slowly walked past Johnson’s body to the center of the courtroom. Alice Mary, Al Martin, and Thelma joined him.
Ceremoniously, Gormley set down his machine gun on the floor, stood up, and slowly raised his hands.
4
conclusion
chapter ten
the information desk
Red Mehan watched the glass workers replacing the broken panes in the lobby windows. The court was open for business, but with only three judges sitting. The public elevators had not yet been inspected, so everyone had to use the stairs. Barricades blocked entrance to the private rear hall. One of the window men took a break, bought a cup of coffee from the blind man, then walked over to the information desk, using its wooden rail as a makeshift bar. Red was glad to have an audience.
“Have ya been back there where the judges’ elevator used to be? Geez, what a goddamned mess. Just a hole now, nothin’ but a big fuckin’ hole. The ceiling, the walls, even the fuckin’ floor have all been blown apart. It will take a pretty penny to repair all that. They’ll have to rebuild the whole thing, and you know how things cost today.
“I understand they’re going to lay out Harbor at city hall. You know, one of them public mourning things. Shit, I don’t see the point in it. I mean, I would if they had a complete body, but after that blast there was nothin’ left but hamburger, ya know. Christ, they couldn’t identify nothin’. So what is in that casket might be Harbor, or it might be the burglar, but it’s probably a mixture of both. Funny when you think about it. I mean, all those people going by the closed casket, weepin’ and looking sad and maybe they’re honoring that fuckin’ burglar. Kinda odd, ya know?
“Of course, Harbor was no real loss. He was an idiot and he hadn’t put in a full day’s work since he got here.
“Naw, I ain’t speaking ill of the dead; that’s just a plain fact.
“The radio this morning says the governor will appoint somebody to fill Harbor’s vacancy. I don’t know about the process, but they keep coming up with horse’s asses. It’s tough, but they manage to find them somehow. The governor will have to act fast, though. This whole court was catching hell because of the backlog of cases before this happened. So they’ll need all the judges they can get. That backlog was the reason why Tingle was down here from the supreme court.
“Ya know, I’ll bet he never thought he would end up this way. They must have really scared the shit right out of him. You wouldn’t think it of a big guy like him, but you can never tell. Heart attack. So he’s laying around in an intensive care ward, all wired up and suckin’ for air through an oxygen mask. Well, that’s what he gets for coming down here to ‘the Zoo.’
“Yeah, that’s what they call this place—‘the Zoo.’ You stick around here a few days and you’ll see some real human animals. Of course, this place is almost shut down now, but on a regular day you can see sights here that you’ll never see anyplace else in the world. You ought to take a day off and just hang around here. Damndest show in the world.
