McBain, Ed - Killer's Wedge

"All right, redhead," she said.

"Say your prayers."

There was not a man in that room who did not realize that once he relinquished his weapon he would be at the mercy of the woman holding the gun. There was not a man in that room, too, who had not faced a gun at one time or another in his career.

The men in that room were cops, but they were also human beings who did not particularly relish the thought of an early grave. The men in that room were human beings, but they were also cops who knew the destructive power of a .38, who also knew that women were as capable of squeezing triggers as were men, who realized that this woman holding the gun could cut down all three of them in one hasty volley. And yet, they hesitated.

"Damnit!" she shouted.

"I'm not kidding!"

Kung was the first to move, and then only because he saw the knuckle-white tension of the woman's trigger finger.

Staring at her all the while, he unstrapped his shoulder rig and dropped holster and Police Special to the desk top. Meyer unclipped his holster from his right hip pocket and deposited it alongside Kung's gun. Hawes carried his .38 just off his right hipbone. He unclipped the holster and put it on the desk.

"Which of these desk drawers lock?" the woman asked.

"The top one," Hawes said.

"Where's the key?"

"In the drawer.

She opened the drawer, found the key, and then shoved the guns into the drawer.

She locked the desk then, removed the key, and put it into her coat pocket. The big black purse was still on her lap.

"Okay, now you got our guns," Meyer said.

"Now what? What is this, lady?"

"I'm going to kill Steve Carella," the woman said.

"Why?"

"Never mind why. Who else is in this place right now?" Meyer hesitated. From where the woman was sitting, she had a clear view of both the lieutenant's office and the corridor outside the squad room

"Answer me!" she snapped.

"Just Lieutenant Byrnes," Meyer lied. In the Clerical Office, just outside the slatted rail divider, Miscolo was busily working on his records. There was the possibility that they could maneuver her so that her back was to the corridor. And then, if Miscolo decided to enter the squad-room on one of his frequent trips, perhaps he would grasp the situation and .

"Get the lieutenant," she said.

Meyer began to move.

"Before you go, remember this. The gun is on you. One phony move, and I shoot.

And I keep shooting until every man in this place is dead. Now go ahead. Knock on the lieutenant's door and tell him to get out here."

Meyer crossed the silent squad room The lieutenant's door was closed. He rapped on the wooden frame alongside the frosted glass.

"Come!" Byrnes called from behind the door.

"Pete, it's me. Meyer."

"The door's unlocked," Byrnes answered.

"Pete, you better come out here."

"What the hell is it?"

"Come on out, Pete."

There was the sound of footsteps behind the door. The door opened. Lieutenant Peter Byrnes, as compact as a rivet, thrust his muscular neck and shoulders into the opening.

"What is it, Meyer? I'm busy."

"There's a woman wants to see you."

"A woman? Where ... ?" His eyes flicked past Meyer to where the woman sat. Instant recognition crossed his face.

"Hello, Virginia," he said, and then he saw the gun.

"Get in here, Lieutenant," Virginia Dodge said. A frown had come over Byrnes' face. His brows pulled down tightly over scrutinizing blue eyes.

Intelligence flashed on his craggy face.

Lumberingly, like a man about to lift a heavy log, he crossed the squad room walking directly to where Virginia Dodge sat. He seemed ready to pick her up and hurl her into the corridor.

"What is this, Virginia?" he said, and there was the tone of a father in his voice, a rather angry father speaking to a fifteen year-old daughter who'd come home too late after a dance.

"What does it look like, Lieutenant?"

"It looks like you've blown your wig, that's what it looks like. What the hell's the gun for? What are you doing in here with ..

"I'm going to kill Steve Carella," Virginia said.

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Byrnes said in exasperation.

"Do you think that's going to help your husband any?"

"Nothing's going to help Frank any more."

"What do you mean?"

"Frank died yesterday. In the hospital at Castleview Prison."

Byrnes was silently meditative. He did not speak for a long while, and then he said only, "You can't blame Carella for that."

"Carella sent him up."

~Your husband was a criminal."

"Carella sent him up."

"Carella only arrested him. You can't-" "And pressed the DA. for a conviction, and testified at the trial, and did everything in his power to make sure Frank went to jail!"

"Virginia, he-" "Frank was sick! Carella knew that! He knew that when he put him away!"

"Virginia, for Christ's sake, our job is to-" "Carella killed him as sure as if he'd shot him.

And now I'm going to kill Carella. The minute he steps into this squad room I'm going to kill him."

"And then what? How do you expect to get out of here, Virginia? You haven't got a chance."

Virginia smiled thinly.

"I'll get out, all right."

"Will you? You fire a gun in here, and every cop in ten miles will come barging upstairs."

"I'm not worried about that, Lieutenant."

"No, huh? Talk sense, Virginia. You want to get the electric chair? Is that what you want?"

"I don't care. I don't want to live without Frank." Byrnes paused for a long time. Then he said, "I don't believe you, Virginia."

"What don't you believe? That I'm going to kill Carella? That I'll shoot the first one who does anything to stop me?"

"I don't believe you're fool enough to use that gun. I'm walking out of here, Virginia. I'm walking back to my office ..

"No, you're not!"

"Yes, I am. I'm walking back to my office, and here's why. There are four men in this room, counting me. You can shoot me, maybe, and maybe another one after me but you'll have to be pretty fast and pretty accurate to get all of us."

"I'll get all of you, Lieutenant," Virginia said, and the thin smile reappeared on her mouth.

"Yeah, well I'm not willing to bet on that.

Jump her the minute she fires, men." He paused.

"I'm going to my office, Virginia, and I'm going to sit in there for five minutes. When I come out, you'd better be gone, and we'll forget all about this.

Otherwise I'm going to slap you silly and take that gun away from you and dump you into the detention cells downstairs. Now is that clear, Virginia?"

"It's very clear."

"Five minutes," Byrnes said curtly, and he wheeled and started toward his office.

With supreme confidence in her voice, Virginia said, "I don't have to shoot you, Lieutenant."

Byrues did not break his stride.

"I don't have to shoot any of you."

He continued walking.

"I've got a bottle of nitroglycerin in my purse."

Her words came like an explosion.

Byrnes stopped in his tracks and turned slowly to face her, his eyes dropping to the big black bag in her lap. She had turned the barrel of the gun so that it pointed at the bag now, so that its muzzle was thrust into the opening at the top of the bag.

"I don't believe you, Virginia," Byrnes said, and he turned and reached for the doorknob again.

"Don't open that door, Lieutenant," Virginia shouted, "or I'll fire into this purse and we can all go to Hell!"

He thought in that moment before twisting the doorknob, She's lying. She hasn't got any soup in that purse, where would she get any?

And then he remembered that among her husband's many criminal offenses had been a conviction for safe-blowing.

But she hasn't any soup, he thought, Jesus, that's crazy. But suppose she does?