Robert Tanenbaum - Absolute rage

Again, they seemed not to hear what she said. Wayne said, "You better shuck out've them clothes, honey. Or do you want old Bo to take 'em off for you?" Wayne gave her arm a shake to make his point.

Lucy sighed, raised her fingers to her mouth, and produced a piercing, three-toned whistle.

Magog entered the barroom at a dead run, at which point Lucy shouted a command in a language only she and the dog understood. She also pulled against Wayne's grip, at which the man instinctively jerked back. This improved Magog's target picture. Without breaking stride, the dog hit Wayne Cade in the groin with a mouthful of teeth. Wayne went over backward, his mouth open wide enough to swallow a grapefruit. The dog gave a sharp jerk of her massive head, like the jerk a terrier makes to kill a rat, producing the sound of tearing cloth and a high-pitched scream.

Magog then backed off a few steps and dropped on the floor a sodden mass of denim, Jockey-short stuff, blood, and tissue. Wayne writhed with his hands against his crotch, making the sort of sounds he had not made since he was weaned.

Earl reached under his shirt, brought out a revolver, and took careful aim at Magog. Lucy shouted something. Magog started to move and Earl fired. Dan Heeney rose slowly to his feet.

It is extremely hard even when cold sober to hit a black dog moving toward you at speed in a dim room, and Earl's bullet did not connect. His second shot also went wide, into the ceiling in fact, because Dan hit him over the head with a chair, and Magog launched her 110 pounds through the air and landed mouth-first on his forearm. Earl screamed and dropped the gun.

"Magog, off!" cried Lucy. "Heel! Dan, come on!"

After a second's hesitation, because he really wanted to hit Earl again with the chair, he ran after her, shaking his head to clear it.

Outside, they both stopped short, blinking. Four state police cars were lined up head to tail, forming a barricade across the parking lot. Helmeted troopers crouched behind them, pistols and shotguns at the ready. One of the troopers was making frantic "come here" motions. Looking wildly around her, Lucy saw that a team of police in helmets and flak jackets, carrying short-version M16s, were flattened against the walls of the bar on either side of the door.

Lucy and Dan did what the trooper wanted them to do and went behind the line of cars. At that moment, Earl Cade came running out, clutching his revolver in his left hand, his right hanging loose and bloody. Twenty voices started yelling at him to drop it, to get down, get down! Slowly, it seemed, it dawned on Earl that they were addressing him and not someone else with a gun in his hand, and also that enough firepower was pointing at him to stop a battalion. He let the gun fall and lay down on the gravel. Some troopers rushed forward and grabbed him.

"What'd I do? I ain't done nothin'," wailed Earl.

The assault team rushed into the saloon and soon emerged with Bo Cade, in handcuffs. Shortly thereafter, a paramedic van pulled into the lot; two paramedics pulled a gurney out of it and went in.

"Hi, Dad," said Lucy.

"Are you all right?" Karp asked. She saw how pale his face was and ran to embrace him.

"I'm fine. How did you know I was in there?"

"We didn't, until I saw your truck in the parking lot. I almost had a heart attack."

"You were following the Cades?"

"A trooper saw their truck and called it in. What were you doing in that place? I thought you were at Four Oaks."

"Dan took me. He's been showing me the McCullensburg sights."

Karp turned on Dan a paint-scorching look. "You think that was smart, zooming around the county with a bunch of killers on the loose?"

Before Dan could answer, the paramedics emerged from the building with Wayne Cade on their gurney. They stopped to talk to a tall trooper with gold glinting on his shoulders, then packed the man away in their van, with a trooper for company.

Hendricks walked over to the Karps and asked, "What happened in there?"

Lucy answered, "That big one, Wayne I think his name is, tried to sexually assault me, and Magog bit him." A child of two lawyers, she was ever alert for torts.

"Bit him, eh? I'll say!"

"Is he badly hurt?" asked Lucy with real concern. "I called her off right away."

"Oh, he'll live. But I guess it'll be a while before Wayne's interested in that sort of thing." To Karp, Hendricks said, "You'll want to see them right away."

"Yeah. You know the drill. Keep them separate, and the Miranda stuff. Let's have that gun tested. Make sure they're comfortable and take care of their medical needs. We'll talk to Wayne later in the hospital."

"I guess my wife won't be leaving me now," said Stan Hawes to Karp as soon as Karp walked into his office. "And I can take my kid to Little League again."

"Was it that bad?"

"Pretty near. Anyhow, it worked. I guess we need to talk to those boys."

"Whenever you want." Karp hesitated, then said carefully, "You know, I've done this a lot. Maybe I should take the lead interviewing the first one."

"I got no problem with that. On the other hand, I think I got more experience with boys like the Cades than you do. I guess you don't have many like them in New York City."

"Good point.We'll feel our way. You want to go downstairs now?"

"You know, as a matter of fact, I'd like to get something to eat first." Hawes stood up and slipped on his suit jacket. "I haven't been eating all that well since I became a corrupt son of a bitch. Christine's been flinging a frozen dinner at my head and calling it supper. Let's go down to Rosie's. The Cades'll keep for a while."

The restaurant was crowded, much to Karp's surprise. There was no velvet rope, but they had to hang around in the entryway for a table to be cleared.

"It's Friday," Hawes explained as they took their seats, "catfish on the menu. Gus's catfish is famous. He's got a tank in the back he keeps them in. He brings them up from a farm in North Carolina."

"Well, I do love a mess o'catfish."

"I bet you do, country boy like yourself."

"What's with all the old guys?" asked Karp, surveying the room.

"Pension day today. They're all old miners. Basis of the economy, besides coal itself. Another one of our local traditions. There's your Lester Weames fan club. The union's been screwing them for generations and they love it, because he hands them a cheap pension every month. Plus occasional odd jobs. A great and generous man, Lester. Another reason I brought you here. Look over there, those fellas at that big round table in the corner."

Karp looked. He did not recognize any of the eight men at the table, but he thought instantly of Marlene and her flash of deja vu. He had seen tables like that in Italian restaurants in his neighborhood at home. The men were dressed a little better, and a little more formally than the other diners, and they had a sleek, confident look as they dug into the greasy fried fish and downed bottles of beer. Three of them were larger men than average, with hard, stupid faces. The table was making a good deal of happy, aggressive noise.

"Man in the yellow golf shirt with the little round glasses, that's Lester himself. Over one to his right is George Floyd. The others are his buddies in the union management, and his goons. I guess you can tell which ones are the goons."

Karp inspected them for a moment. "They seem to be having a good time. I guess us arresting the Cade boys isn't affecting their appetites. I assume they know?"

"Oh, yeah. Swett must've been on the horn to them five minutes after we brought them in."

George Floyd said something and everyone laughed heartily. Karp imagined that this was not an infrequent occurrence when Floyd made a joke. Weames seemed quieter, almost studious; perhaps it was the glasses. He looked like the sort of nondescript accountant who turns out to have forty-three dismembered women in his basement. Weames glanced up from his fish. His glasses glinted. He said something to Floyd, who raised his head and stared over at Karp. Their eyes met. Floyd said something to Weames and laughed, and then their whole table laughed and turned to look at Karp and Hawes.