Stuart Kaminsky - The Fala Factor

“So you are telling us that the real Fala is in Washington right now?” said Jane, putting the gun into her other hand.

“In the White House where he’s always been,” I said.

“I don’t believe you,” Jane said.

“It’s hard, Peters,” Dolmitz agreed. “Put yourself in my place.”

“Even with the gun on me,” I said. “I think I’d rather be in mine. No one, Lyle, you, Jane here, bothered to take a good look at this dog. You didn’t have to. You thought it was Fala, but a friend of mine went to the library and looked up the pictures in the Times , even got a print made from a negative and blown up, and an old guy in the park gave me a dog lecture. Our friend shivering in the corner-not Lyle, the black furry one-is bigger, curlier, has longer legs.”

“Dogs like this look alike,” said Dolmitz. “A cocker’s a cocker.”

“I don’t know anything about dogs, but it doesn’t take an expert to check,” I said. “Face it, Academy, you got taken by a second-rate performance.”

“The dog’s?” he said, shaking his head.

“Not just his,” I said, getting up slowly and nodding toward the door. “Mine.”

The door shot open, this time hitting Dolmitz. The dog let out a yowl and ran under the desk as Jane let go with a shot that went through Lyle’s corpse, giving him an extra bullet he did not need.

Bass, still tied, lurched into the room and against the wall with Jeremy behind him. My office was now three people beyond its maximum occupancy. Jane’s gun came up, leveled at Jeremy’s massive chest, and Dolmitz staggered away from the door, kicking it shut and moaning.

“Don’t move, anyone,” Jane said, now holding the pistol in two hands. “Pa, are you all right?”

“No,” groaned Dolmitz, holding his right hand to his face. “Do I go around groaning like Lionel Barrymore when I’m feeling all right? I’ll survive, but I’m not all right.”

“Toby, they haven’t-” Jeremy began.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“Cut me loose,” said Bass. “I’ve got things to do to these two.”

He looked first at Jeremy and then at me.

Dolmitz examined his hand to see if there was any blood on it from his nose and said, “More killing, putz? You know why we’re all crowded in here instead of reading a book or off at Loews’? Because you kill. You are the last person in California I would untie.”

“Mr. Dolmitz,” Bass whined.

Dolmitz held up a finger and said, “Shah, still.”

“So,” I said. “You going to shoot me, Jeremy, Bass, and the dog? You up for mass murder, Academy?”

“You’ve got a point, Peters, but I tell you, what am I going to do? I shot the poor yetz in the corner. Now Janey’s shot him. I don’t want to see my only daughter get, God forbid, the gas chamber, and I don’t want it to happen to me.”

“You can make a deal,” I said. “My brother’s a cop, a captain, you know that. You give him Bass and the two of you get a few years. It’s that or you start shooting and I can tell you that as soon as that gun in Jane’s hand goes off, the person it doesn’t hit is going to be all over her. The way she shoots, even in this little box she might wind up hitting you or nothing. Now I don t want to risk that, but it’s better than just sitting and waiting to let her take aim.”

“Pa?” Jane said, backing into Lyle’s body as Jeremy took a short step toward her. The body, already off balance, toppled over and into her. She let out a scream and another bullet. This one went through my window, shattering glass into the dark alley.

Dolmitz took the pistol from her and the door opened again. This time Gunther walked in.

“Toby,” he began, finding a small spot of floor in the corner under the photograph of me, my old man, Phil, and our dog. “I know I wasn’t supposed to but I heard the shots.”

“Who’s this?” Dolmitz demanded.

“Another person you’ll have to shoot,” I said.

“Mr. Dolmitz,” Bass pleaded “Let me go and I’ll just step on him, squash him.”

“Did you get it?” I asked Gunther.

“I’ve got it,” he said, “but I-”

“Got what?” said Dolmitz. “What’s this, got it? You got a gun, dwarf?”

“Gunther’s not a dwarf,” Jeremy corrected. “He is perfectly formed, better, in fact, than you. He’s a little person.”

“Look,” Dolmitz said, “I’m not in the business here of insulting people or being polite. What is this thing he’s got?”

“Transcription,” I said, easing over so Bass could have a little more space in the corner.

“I see,” said Dolmitz. “You’re going to let us hear the real president’s dog and I’m supposed to compare it to the little cocker here.”

“Better,” I said. “Gunther’s an electronics wizard. I’m going to show you something, so don’t shoot.” I opened the drawer to my desk slowly.

“Pa,” shouted Jane. “Don’t let him.”

My hand came out slowly with the microphone and I said, “Gunther was in an office recording everything we’ve been saying in here. Now you’ve got another problem. First, you’ve got three people to shoot and only four bullets left in that gun.”

“I shoot the little guy last,” Dolmitz said.

“Second,” I went on, trying to ignore the offense to Gunther’s dignity, “you have a record to find in a very big building. There’s no percentage in it. Make a deal, put the gun down.”

The lights suddenly went on in the outer office and light trickled in under the door.

“Toby, is that you in there?” screamed Shelly. “This place smells like someone’s been eating hot dogs on the floor. What’re you-”

Shelly opened the door, reached in, turned on the single overhead light and, mouth open, looked around the room. He took in Bass, Jeremy, Gunther, Jane, Dolmitz with the gun, me, and the corpse on the floor.

“You’re busy now,” he said politely. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

“Get in here,” Dolmitz shouted.

“There’s no place for him to get,” I observed. “What do you want him to do, stand on the corpse?”

“I’d rather not,” Shelly said, forcing himself in. “Look, I just stopped by to pick up those tickets for the show. I left them-”

“Shut up,” shouted Jane, running her hand through her hair. “Shut up.”

Shelly shut up.

“Mr. Dolmitz,” Bass whispered, but Dolmitz didn’t answer.

“This is enough,” Jeremy said after a few beats. “Give me the gun.” He stepped forward one pace, which was all he had room for, his hand out.

“Take it easy, Jeremy,” I said, ready, ribs or no ribs, to go over the desk and for Dolmitz’s gun.

Academy looked at me and took a step back away from the huge poet. When he too tripped over Lyle, hell broke loose again. A shot went off, hitting the light bulb, as Jeremy lunged for the fallen Dolmitz and Jane kicked out at Jeremy. Then there was a second shot, which brought an “Oh my god” from Shelly.

It brought something else too. Something filled the space of the broken window behind me and went through, taking the remaining glass with it. I went around the desk, pulled Jane off of Jeremy, and told Jeremy that he had better get up off of both Dolmitz and Lyle. His bulk would mean nothing to the corpse of Lyle but a few seconds of it would mean the end for Dolmitz.

Gunther opened the door to let in light, and Jeremy stood up, holding Dolmitz by the neck with one hand and the gun with the other. He handed the gun to me and we looked around the room. Bass was missing. I knew where he was, but I didn’t want to look out the window and down to the alley below. Instead, I reached under the desk, pulled the pooch out, and petted him reassuringly.