Rick Mofina - If Angels Fall

“No trouble for a handsome man like you.”

Florence stole another glimpse of Shook. Their eyeslocked, charging her with raw panic. She looked away, struggling to conceal it,squeezing Marty’s shoulder.

“Gravy. Coming right up, Marty.”

Lord Jesus, please help me! Was she running to thekitchen? She didn’t know, or care. She was numb with fear and ordered herselfto be strong. Be calm for the children.

“Careful!”

She nearly ran into a volunteer carrying an urn of hotsoup inside the kitchen door. She leaned against a wall, gasping. Louey came toher. “Florence, you okay? What the hell is going on?”

What the fuck was it with that little bitch? Why wasshe gawking at him like that? Like she knew something about him. Shook couldn’tplace her. Fuck it. Let it simmer. He had enough to think about right now, likethe letters. It had been a week. Nothing had surfaced in the news. Nothing tohelp him get off. The blue meanies keeping a lid on it, denying him thepleasure of increasing San Francisco’s pain. What would the Zodiac do? Send theletters to the press, threaten harm if they weren’t published.

Slices of turkey and roast beef were heaped on Shook’splate next to a mountain range of mashed potatoes.

“Welcome, friend,” a young woman volunteer said.

Shook was cold to her kindness. Moving down theserving table, he grimaced. His pain was nearly unbearable, his need to loveagain was overwhelming and this other player, New Fuck, made it too hot tohunt. The letters, the game with the priest were poor substitutes for the realthing. He couldn’t’ stand it any longer. He had to do something.

Kindhart.

They could hunt together. Shook could plan somethinglike he did with Wallace. Grab a little prostitute, enjoy her, and turn up theheat. It would be rapturous. But where was Kindhart these days? He seemed to bescarce. Fuck him. Shook could do it himself. He grabbed a couple of buns and ithit him again. Who was that twitching dwarf gaping at him back there? She wasfamiliar, yet he couldn’t place her. Why had she acted so strange? Pious littlecunt. Maybe he would give her a lesson in humility.

Shook bit savagely into a bun and headed for asolitary table.

***

Florence was hysterical.

“It’s him! It’s him! Sweet Lord, he saw me!”

“Listen to me, Florence! Take a deep breath!” Sydowskisaid.

Turgeon was on the cellular phone. “Have the unitsmove in to the church exits now! No lights, no screamers!”

Florence was sobbing. Sydowski was bent over, holdingher shoulders in his big hands, comforting her. Turgeon pinpointed Shook fromthe kitchen door.

“I’ve got him, Walt. Doesn’t look like he suspectsanything yet-yes.” Turgeon described Shook over the phone, “Caucasian, whiteT-shirt, beard.”

“Good work, Florence. It will be over with soon.”

Curious kitchen staff had gathered in a circle.

“Folks, this is San Francisco Police business. It is amatter of life and death that you tell no one we are here.” Sydowski flashedhis shield. “Please. It’s important that you carry on.

“What exactly is going on, officer?” one man asked.

“Sir, we will tell you later. Please. Your help isvital now.”

“Walt, dispatch called the TAC Team.”

“We’ll sit on him until they get here.”

“And if he runs, Walt?”

Sydowski didn’t answer. He went to the door for a lookat Shook.

He sat alone, back close to the wall, stabbing at hisfood with his right hand, his left forearm draped defensively around his plate,displaying his tattoos, letting the world know he was a motherfucker. Hescanned the hall continuously, trusting nothing. It was the way you ate inside.Old habits died hard. But he never faced trouble here. It was one of the thingshe liked about Our Lady. That, and the fact that it was clean. The hall wasclean and the church was clean, smelling of candle wax and lemon furniturepolish. Pure and clean.

That was it.

Shook stopped chewing.

She cleaned upstairs. Polished the pews. And she wasalways there when he visited the priest! He had a clear line to the kitchendoor as a thin young man carrying a tub of dirty dishes entered. In the halfsecond the door opened, Shook saw a professional-looking woman in a blazertalking on a phone. And he saw that little slut talking to a man in a suit,with gray hair, tanned face-he recognized him from TV news.

He was a fucking cop!

Shook’s pulse rate exploded. The little bitch wastelling them about him.

They had come for him!

Shook heard the squeak of brakes, an engine idling.Through a cracked basement window, he saw the car’s rocket panels, it’sblack-and-white paint scheme. The window was too small to get through.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Uniformed officer Gary Crockett joined Sydowski andTurgeon in the kitchen, a radio in his hand.

“Use your earpiece,” Sydowski demanded. “Tell theothers.”

Crockett relayed their order through his radio.

“You got bodies at all the exits?” Turgeon asked him.

Crockett nodded. “Who’ve we got?”

“Suspect in the child abductions-shit!”

Sydowski saw the Channel 5 Live News van pull up tothe rear.

“Crockett, have somebody keep the press back!”

“TAC is rolling, Walt,” Turgeon said from her phone.“Yes. Patch him through-Walt, it’s Lieutenant Gonzales.”

He took the phone. “Leo. It’s our boy.” His eyes wereon Shook.

“We need him, Walt. Sit on him ‘til TAC gets there.”

“I know my job, Leo.”

“I’m ten minutes from you. Rust and Ditmire are ontheir way.”

“Jesus!” Sydowski tossed the phone to Crockett. “He’smade us. Linda, come on! Crockett have your people move in when I shout.”

Shook rose, walking calmly to the door. He heard theirfootsteps on the hardwood floor behind him.

“One moment please!” It was the male pig.

Shook’s stomach tightened. He kept walking. He was notgoing back inside. Never going back. He reached down into his boot. “Police!Stop right there!”

The economy had cost Dolores Lopez her job cleaningtoilets in the office towers of the financial district. Her boss, Mr. Weems,was a born-again Christian who cried when he let Dolores go. She was a singlemother with four children. She didn’t know what she was going to do. In onemonth, she would lose her apartment on Potrero Hill. Every day she prayed tothe Virgin who smiled upon her. They had found Our Lady’s shelter last week andMr. Weems had arranged a job interview tomorrow with a cleaning firm inOakland. Dolores was telling her children to never abandon hope, to always payhomage to the Mother of Jesus, when she felt her hair being torn from her head,as she was lifted by an arm crushing her neck.

The steel point of a knife was pressed solidly belowher eye.

She heard shouting, but did not scream.

“Mama! Mama!” Carla, her three-year-old daughter, ranto her. Someone pushed her back. Dolores pulled weakly at the arm around herthroat. And she prayed because she knew she was going to die.

Please, Holy Mother, watch over my children.

Sydowski pulled his Glock from his hip holster.Turgeon had her Smith amp; Wesson trained on Shook’s head.

“Drop the knife, now!” Sydowski was ten feet away.Turgeon moved to Shook’s side. Shook glanced at her and said nothing.

“Everybody on the floor!” Sydowski locked eyes withShook. “Don’t be stupid! Release the woman! We want to talk!”

Two uniformed officers entered the doorway, gunsdrawn. Sydowski noticed the eye of a TV news camera peeking through one of thebasement windows. His fingers were sweating on the trigger of his gun. He hatedthis. Christ, did he hate this. Shook was encircled, four guns aimed at him.Sydowski ordered the officers into a pattern to avert crossfire.