‘‘What’s that?’’
‘‘I think it’s empty shells,’’ I said. ‘‘The bad guys are using silencers. All we can hear is their empty shells hitting the floor.’’ I hesitated. ‘‘I think.’’
There was a sudden distant rumbling sound, and two of the exterior courtroom windows shattered. I felt an overpressure, like a shock wave that had lost most of its punch.
A second later Sally said, ‘‘And that?’’
‘‘Beats the hell out of me,’’ I said.
It was quiet for a second, then there was a flurry of shots. Loud shots. No silencers.
I didn’t wait for the question. ‘‘That’s the good guys,’’ I said.
About two seconds later, my radio came to life again.
‘‘Three,’’ said a male voice, ‘‘we’re comin’ into the courtroom, through the main door and the side door. Don’t shoot. We’ll come slow.’’
‘‘Ten-four,’’ I said. ‘‘But you might have one or two in here with us. In the aisles.’’
A moment later, a man I recognized stuck his head around the corner. The one known as ‘‘Team Leader’’ from the Wittman farm. He saw me and waved. He moved aside, and two other men dressed in gray BDUs slipped in. One of them sort of went on point like a good hunting dog, and the other one jumped up into one of the benches and pointed his submachine gun down toward the floor.
‘‘Put your hands over your head,’’ he said sharply, ‘‘and get up on your knees.’’
A moment later, a figure in green BDUs with a face mask, hands clasped behind his head, rose up from near the swinging door in the barrier.
‘‘I think that’s Ted,’’ I called out. ‘‘Is there another one over by the jury box?’’
‘‘He’s dead,’’ said Team Leader. ‘‘Real.’’
A moment later, as they were securing Ted, the other door opened and two more men in gray BDUs came through, with a prisoner. Also in green. No mask this time.
‘‘He the only one in there?’’ I asked as I stood.
‘‘Yep.’’
Good. Sally hadn’t killed him. From the looks of things, she hadn’t even scratched him. Even better.
She stood too, helping Nola up.
‘‘We’re gonna need some cold water for this lady,’’ I said. I unloaded my rifle and repossessed my handgun from Sally.
Volont, Hester, and George came into the room.
‘‘Holy shit,’’ said George.
Volont just looked around, quietly. He spun on his heel and went back into the hall.
Hester came over to Sally. ‘‘How you doin’?’’
She’d seen the tears. ‘‘Fine,’’ said Sally. ‘‘You got a Kleenex or somethin’? I’m not crying. I had to Mace the bitch.’’
Hester reached into her slacks and came up with a tissue. She took a deep breath. ‘‘You sure did, didn’t you.’’
Sally blew her nose. ‘‘Hey, I’m not so bad.’’ She pointed at me. ‘‘The big dummy got shot.’’
I thought Hester and George were going to have heart failure.
‘‘In my vest,’’ I said quickly. ‘‘In my vest. I’m fine.’’
‘‘They sure knew who the big dummy was, though, didn’t they?’’ said Sally smugly.
We walked out into the hallway. ‘‘You might not want to look,’’ said Hester to Sally.
There were three dead men in green BDUs lying near the middle of the hallway. All had had their masks pulled off. Nola choked back a sob.
The county attorney, Nola’s attorney, and the court reporter were bound with plastic straps, toward the end of the hall, and were being freed by a TAC officer with a pair of shears. The clerk and the judge were standing just outside her office, talking to one of the TAC team members.
Mark’s body was at the end of the hall. I didn’t look too closely.
We packed Nola down the stairs, along with several TAC team people, both federal and state. They surrounded us outside, while we waited for a cop car to back onto the lawn, going around the felled trees.
The sky was black with smoke, and the sidewalk was covered with broken glass.
‘‘What was that big thump a minute ago?’’ I asked.
‘‘One of the small propane tanks going off,’’ he said. ‘‘You hear that ‘jet engine’ out that way?’’
Yeah, now that he mentioned it. I thought it was just my ears still ringing.
‘‘Big propane tank, vented when it got too hot.’’
‘‘Oh.’’
Volont came down the stairs behind us, and watched Nola get in the back of the cop car. Sally got in with her.
I leaned over, into the back seat of the car, and said to Sally, ‘‘You were great. Really mean that. Fantastic.’’
Her grin spread all over her face. ‘‘Can I tell ’em I got to shoot your gun, Dad?’’
I smiled and shut the door.
Volont motioned me and Hester over to him and George.
‘‘Glad to see you’re all right,’’ he said. He really didn’t sound like he meant it.
‘‘Me too,’’ I said, still grinning. Relief does that to me. ‘‘Hey, where were you guys anyway?’’
Mostly shrugging from Hester and George. Volont didn’t appear to have heard me. They told me later, though, that Volont held all the specialist people up there at the jail, because he was so certain that this was a diversion and that Gabriel was really going to go after her at the jail. No kidding. Just like Hitler and D-Day. I don’t want to minimize the help that Sally was, but he had left me with a dispatcher, to take on Gabriel, while he sat up at the jail with enough muscle to plug the Fulda gap. But, like I said, they told me that later.
‘‘You know when I said he was a soldier?’’ said Volont, just like I hadn’t said anything.
‘‘Yeah.’’
‘‘And when I said that we’d have to look at him a little differently than some criminal?’’
‘‘I remember that too,’’ I said.
‘‘The military calls it ‘Force Multiplication,’ ’’ he mused. ‘‘The bombs they planted. Must have done it last night. Just to create chaos.’’
‘‘It sure worked,’’ I said.
‘‘Not a single fatality in those explosions,’’ said Volont. ‘‘All either empty buildings at the time or isolated chemicals.’’ He said it with admiration.
‘‘Nice of the fucker,’’ I said. I watched the ambulance people go up the stairs. ‘‘Fatalities up there, though.’’
‘‘Yes,’’ said Volont. ‘‘I think he didn’t hit the jail because he wasn’t able to determine if it was a trap or not.’’ It was like he was making notes for a lecture.
‘‘You know, I was meaning to ask you… just what operation were they practicing for when they killed Kellerman and Turd?’’ My first opportunity to ask.
‘‘I’ve always got bad news for you, Houseman,’’ he said. ‘‘I’m really sorry, but I’m not allowed to discuss that.’’
‘‘Yeah.’’ I looked around. ‘‘You mind if I sit on that bench? I’m a little tired.’’
As I sat, Volont asked me what I thought was a rather strange question.
‘‘Do you know who any of those men were?’’
‘‘Well,’’ I said. ‘‘Gabe yelled at one to throw a grenade, and called him Ted. So I suppose one of them was Ted.’’ I thought for a second. ‘‘Gabe, of course.’’
‘‘You heard him?’’
‘‘I talked to him.’’ I grinned. ‘‘He asked if I was fuckin’ Houseman and I told him he got the first name wrong. He sure had a loud voice for a southern accent.’’ I gestured toward the hole in my shirt. ‘‘Fucker shot me too.’’
‘‘You seem to be all right.’’
‘‘Yeah,’’ I said. ‘‘Good vest. Starting to ache, though.’’
I watched the bodies going by in the zipped white bags.
‘‘Which one is he?’’ I asked.
‘‘I always have bad news for you, Houseman,’’ said Volont.
‘‘Now what? You can’t tell me?’’
‘‘No.’’ He looked me right in the eye. ‘‘No. None of the bodies, none of the prisoners, is Gabe. He’s not here, not now.’’ He looked right at me. ‘‘If he ever was.’’
I kind of resented that. ‘‘He was there,’’ I said.
‘‘You only heard a voice, Houseman. You’ve only ever heard a voice.’’ He smiled a tight little smile. ‘‘You’ve never seen him.’’
I just stared at Volont. I didn’t know what to say. And in the background, I could hear a voice saying, ‘‘… two known dead.. .’’