Leon Uris - A God In Ruins

“Hello,” he says, “Harry Decker speaking.”

“Oh, hello, Harry. How are things going on the ranch?”

“Shitty. Who am I talking to?”

“Just a friend down at the AMERIGUN convention. Thought I might get to see you.”

“I sent my old lady down.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for her.”

Chad hangs up with a big “cat in the fishbowl” smile. Mother fucker, there is going to be a big old payday!

1900 State trooper Sergeant Hap Cronin in plain clothes and unmarked car takes up vigil in sight of Friehoff’s Furniture Outlet at 10101 West Coster.

1930 The evening’s “Barbecue and Bash” opens its doors to the microsoft GRAND BALLROOM.

2001 Detective Mary Boedecker returns to Chad Murtha’s booth.

“I’ve got some good news for you, Miss Mary. I managed to find the last pieces in Western America. The VEC-44 is a beauty, a real man-stopper. Aren’t you worrying about all that money you’re carrying?”

“Well, now, don’t you fret, Mr. Chad. I can hit a mosquito’s ass at forty yards with my little Beretta 25.”

“I sure bet you can,” Chad said, feigning what might be a chuckle. “Here’s the way it works. Don’t write none of this down, just remember it. You be at the Foothills Trailer Camp on Lawson Street at two in the morning. You’ll be observed, so come by yourself. I am in space number eighty-four, in a small mobile home.”

Mary repeated the numbers, then asked, “What kind of vehicle do you have? I don’t want to go knocking at the wrong door at that time of morning.”

“Blue Ford pickup, Tennessee license plate. Maybe we can split a beer or two.”

She gave a noncommittal shrug that didn’t exactly say no.

2014 Mary Boedecker contacts Dr. Mock’s office, reports on gun-delivery instructions, and confirms the blue Ford pickup truck as vehicle to follow.

2100 Ribs and chicken and beans proliferate as the bash rolls into motion at the microsoft GRAND BALLROOM.

2134 State trooper Sergeant Hap Cronin reports that a single automobile with driver and one passenger is buzzed through the main gate at 10101 and parks near the loading docks. Automobile is this year’s Mercedes and appears to belong to a top-echelon person.

2145 Quinn ups the ante, deciding that 10101 is still the designation. He orders Yancey to move his people very quietly to within a mile of 10101 and hold.

It was the best damned evening AMERIGUN ever put on. There were lots of country and western performers, some Nike all-stars, sitcom stars, and finally, Senator Darling moved the crowd to tears.

Line dancing up to forty yards long pounded the deck and skirts flared, showing the ladies’ legs, and the bars damn near ran dry.

2200 Chad Murtha secures his booth for the night, departs convention center, has two beers at the Londonderry Bar.

2235 Chad Murtha repairs to convention parking lot, locates and drives off in Ford pickup.

2226 Detective Solomon at parking lot catches signal, alerts other teams, and pursues Chad Murtha at a distance.

2236 Three CBI teams depart parking lot in unmarked cars and have Murtha under surveillance as he drives west for the interstate.

“By God, Governor,” Harry Chin said with uncharacteristic emotion, “you were right! It’s going to be 10101.”

“What kind of stupid fools are they?” Quinn thought aloud.

“Repetition,” Dawn Mock said. “If a mode of operation works ten times, it will work the eleventh. All criminals leave a signature. Maybe no one was certain who was supposed to be in charge of changing locations, so nobody did.”

“Folks, could I have your kind attention?” the loudspeaker boomed. “There’s a line of yellow cabs at the main entrance. They have been provided for your safety. If you feel you’ve had a couple of drinks too many, take one of these tipsy taxis. You will be delivered to your lodging without charge, compliments of the Colorado Tourist Board.”

A sweet and hurting voice continued singing. The revelers were beginning to get weary, soaked, and grow heavy-legged. Quick action by the police stopped a fight before punches were thrown. “Don’t you go looking at my wife that way.”

“Well, tell your wife not to look that way.”

The police nudged them into separate taxis.

As the wearies trod from the microsoftGRANDBALL ROOM, the singer was closing out with slow dancing, loves lost, losers, loves strayed, loves betrayed, all in heartache three quarter time.

“Ladies and gentlemen, fellows and gals. Shooters! Tomorrow night is the grand awards banquet.. .”

Could I have this dance, For the rest of my life, Will you be my partner, Eeewerrry night!

“Give me the governor!” “Quinn here.”

“Detective Solomon. Chad Murtha has turned off the freeway. He’s heading for 10101.” “Hang on.”

Quinn, Mock, and Chin spread the map and returned to the phone. “Have your teams come in steadily on Petroleum Boulevard. Park your cars in the Colo Computers’ lot and proceed by foot three blocks east to Oakdale and Bancroft. Trooper Hap Cronin will be advised you are coming and will update you. And remember guys, no casualties if humanly possible.”

2330 Chad Murtha in blue Ford pickup stops before the gate at 10101 and flashes headlights. He drives immediately inside the gate, which remains open. In the next seven minutes, four vehicles driven by dealers are waved in by Chad. Gate is clicked shut. Vehicles drive to loading dock.

2340 Eighteen-wheeler bearing Old Milwaukee sign is buzzed in and maneuvers to loading dock.

2342 First units of Yancey Hawke’s people make connection with Hap Cronin. State troopers followed by guardsmen surround the entire chain-link fence, set up tear gas, spotlights and a loudspeaker system.

2343 The rear of the Old Milwaukee truck is opened.

Owner of Mercedes identified as Franz Friehoff, owner of the furniture outlet.

Franz Friehoff and Chad Murtha check off an order sheet.

“Morrison.”

“Here.”

“Seventeen pieces, seventeen thousand rounds.”

Innowski. “Right here.” “Sixty-five pieces, sixty-five thousand rounds.”

“Here’s my own order,” Chad said. “I’ve got two hundred and seventy pieces. I’m buying the beers. I’ve been looked up by a dozen militias.”

“Spotlights!” Yancey Hawke ordered.

Friehoff’s warehouse and grounds lit up as though an as tro from outer space were making an earth landing. Blinding!

“Now hear this!” Yancey Hawke boomed. “You people are surrounded and cannot escape. If you resist or open fire, we will shoot to kill!”

First to leap off the loading dock screaming, “Don’t shoot,” was Jessup Jensen, the trucker’s middle brother. He had run a few steps toward the gate when his younger brother Darren shot him in the back.

“First volley,” Yancey Hawke ordered.

A number of stun grenades arched over the fence, followed by a barrage of tear gas that hit the loading dock and crashed through the windows into the warehouse.

“Shall I bust open the gate, Colonel?”

“Hell, no, they are penned in. Just leave them penned in.”

It seemed that everyone among the gun runners reached for a weapon at the same time and appeared to be shooting at each other.

“Drop your weapons! Walk to the fence with your hands over your heads and stand, holding the fence facing us, or we will fire. This is not Waco or Ruby Ridge or the Montana Freemen! You have thirty seconds to raise a white flag. Anyone who tries to hide in the warehouse will not come out alive! You now have twenty seconds!”