Donald Harstad: The Big Thaw

"Nobody will get hurt if you put yours down," I shouted. Brilliant. But I couldn't really think of anything else to say.

"Deputy Houseman? Is that you?" Gabriel sounded almost happy.

"Yes!"

"Are you still insured with Lloyds of London?" he boomed.

"Probably not!"

"You can't bluff this one, Houseman! Drop your guns!"

Well, of course we couldn't. No way. The thing was, time was really on our side, now. The helicopter would be coming back soon, with the cavalry. Once they landed and got into position, what with George and Hester flanking the bad guys, and me blocking the front… endgame.

It began to occur to me that me blocking the front was the only catch. They knew about George heading toward the barn, but they had to think Hester was still out front with me. Their obvious move was to take out the people blocking the front. Get in the plane. Taxi straight out of the shed, and just take off.

I began to feel there was a neon arrow pointing to the ass end of my tractor.

Stall. I had to stall.

"It's all over!" I shouted. "Don't get any more people hurt or killed! Surrender!"

I keep forgetting. "Surrender" to your average criminal has a lot less stigma than "surrender" does to a career military man.

"No!" He paused. "Take him out!"

What?

Somebody in the shed, I assumed Harvey Grossman, let loose with a rifle on full auto, and pretty much emptied a magazine toward me and the woodpile where Hester had been. I could see, even as I started to duck back, that some of the slugs tore into the ground between the front and rear of the tractor. Most seemed to strike the cab and the huge rear tires and rims. I was showered with tiny bits of glass, wood splinters, and sprayed with a thick liquid. For a second, I thought the viscous stuff was blood, until I realized that most farmers filled the tractor tires with oil instead of air.

I waited what seemed like forever before I screwed my courage up and hollered around the tire again.

"There's no more reason to go on with this! Give it up!" How many ways are there to say "surrender" without saying "surrender"?

At least this time, nobody shot.

"If you don't come out with your hands up," hollered Gabriel, "I'm going to shoot our boy Volont!"

Where was that damned helicopter? I couldn't think of anything else to say, and until it arrived, Gabriel had the upper hand.

"Like I said, 'Give it up!'" Stalling, stalling…

" Harvey, start up the plane!" Gabriel stepped forward with Volont, toward the opening to the shed. They stopped, so close to the front of the barn that Volont, a few feet in ahead of Gabriel, saw George. He only glanced at him, and then looked steadfastly over in my direction. Control.

There was a little commotion inside the shed, near the plane. I more sensed it than actually saw anything. But a few seconds later, Linda Grossman emerged, hesitant, with a gun in her hand. "I'm going to the house!" she yelled. "We're taking my daughter!"

I saw Gabriel's lips move, but didn't hear what he said. Linda stepped slowly into the yard area, obviously afraid of being shot any second. She was concentrating mostly on the house, and began to move more quickly the closer she got.

Shit. Now we'd have Carrie in the plane as well. No chance at all. Gabriel was just about home-free.

Just as Linda Grossman got to the porch door, she turned, looking toward Gabriel. That's when she spotted George. That's also when she screamed, and started to bring up her gun. Things happened very, very fast after that. In the space of two seconds…

Hester stepped out of the porch door of the Grossman house and slammed into Linda, pitching her to the ground.

Carrie stood in the door, and screamed, "Mommy!"

Gabriel knocked Volont down, and stepped toward Linda Grossman, bringing his gun around toward Hester.

I fired two rounds at Gabriel, and missed. He shifted his aim toward me.

And George stepped out from the side of the barn, and fired once. There was a flash of pinkish halo around Gabriel's head, in the bright sunlight. He went to his knees, and pitched forward, facedown into the mud and snow. It was freaky, seeing him do that and make no attempt to break his fall. He was dead before he hit.

Hester, firmly pressing Linda Grossman's head into the snow with her knee, pointed her gun into the shed. "Come out, now!"

I stepped around the tire as I saw Harvey Grossman emerge from the shadows. His hands were in the air. I advanced slowly toward him, pointed my gun at his chest. "You're under arrest!"

In the silence that followed, Volont expressed his gratitude to George. "You fucking idiot! I needed him alive!"

If George had decided to shoot again, I wouldn't have stopped him. In the distance, I could hear the wop, wop of Huey rotor blades. Closer, I could hear Carrie crying and screaming at Hester.

"Don't hurt my mommy, you… you damn cop!"

As far as the Beauregard goes, there was some truly great TV coverage, with her being pulled to shore by the two diesel locomotives. Endless interviews with the "survivors." A great print article by Nancy, with exclusive photos by Shamrock. The two of them covered the entire event, with a little help from their friends. If they ever were really angry at me, it didn't last too long. They sent me a tin of cookies with a note. WE FORGIVE YOU. JUST DON'T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN. It was signed NANCY & SHAMROCK.

I'll tell you, they got some great photos of Adams and me at the stretch van.

ATF had a bomb team search the General Beauregard just as soon as the last person came off the boat. There were no more bombs. The marine engineers told us that if the railroad yard diesels hadn't been ready when they were, we likely would have lost the boat, and most of the passengers. Points to Lamar on that one.

At any rate, Cletus got two years for conspiracy. A plea bargain. He claimed he'd been duped. I sort of think that he was. Well, with a lot of his own effort.

Blitek was charged with attempted murder, but skated on a plea of insanity. Honest. I couldn't believe it. As far as I'm concerned, he was inept and fearful, not suicidal. But the prosecutor said we wouldn't be able to prove who he was trying to kill, since he hadn't actually killed or hit anybody. My argument was that we couldn't prove he was suicidal, since he was still alive. Prosecutors have no sense of humor. I'm told that all Blitek does at the Mental Health Institute is argue politics with the doctors.

Freddie, the poor devil who started the whole thing off by missing his cousins, got a five-year suspended sentence for burglary. One of the few plea bargains I agree with. And I know Fred. We'll probably get him for burglary again someday. He won't be able to help it.

Freddie's aunt, the mother of the murdered Colsons, came to see me. She wanted to know what the man was doing in the house, when he killed her sons. Why he was there in the first place. I finally told her that he was a burglar, too, but a much more dangerous one than her sons.

The best news, from an evidentiary point of view, was that we finally had access to the real fingerprints for Gabriel. We were able to match them as far back as an ejected rifle cartridge found at the Stritch farm where the photographer was shot. Finally closed that case.

Both Harvey and Linda Grossman told us that Gabriel had, indeed, killed the two boys at the farm. He had thought they were cops, and never changed his mind. Harvey 's in prison, doing an armed robbery stretch for the boat business, time plus fifteen years for having the handgun in his possession. He was, it turned out, a convicted felon. Federal. Volont had been onto him from the start, and made sure Gabriel was able to recruit him. Seemed kind of unfair to me. After all, he never would have been there in the first place if it weren't for Volont. Linda got a twenty-year suspended sentence. Her daughter, Carrie, was the main reason for that.