“She will kill us all,” the third man, who was standing immediately beside her, yelped in a high-pitched, overly shrill voice. The man sounded scared half out of his britches. Not that Longarm could blame him. The woman was holding the brick so the end of the fuse hung mighty damn close to the flame of the lamp in her other hand. “Leave us, mister, please, or she will blow us all up.”
“Now that’s kinda funny when you think about it,” Longarm said. “You got no proper hostages so you think you can get me to back off by taking yourselves hostage? Bullshit. If you assholes wanta blow yourselves up, be my guests. Light that fuse an’ be damned for all I care.” He jammed the end of his cheroot between his teeth and glared at them.
Then Longarm’s eyes widened in complete and unfeigned surprise as the crazy female did just about the last thing in the world he ever would have expected.
The idiot did light the fuse.
And boldly, unflinchingly, held the bomb high so it could complete its destructive work with maximum efficiency.
Jesus, Longarm had time to think as he threw himself backward toward the doorway.
Chapter 39
Henry still looked sick. Not that Longarm could blame him. Who would have thought that much blood could come out of such few people? It was positively amazing.
And at that the damage hadn’t been nearly as bad as it might have been. Luckily only a few of the bombs on the worktable had gone off along with the one the young woman had deliberately exploded. Had all the explosive material in that cellar gone up, it would have brought the tenement down and probably half the other buildings in the block too.
As it was, there was one hell of a mess for the Denver police to clean up. And plenty of explanations that would have to be made later. At a more convenient time.
“Are you all right, Henry? You look kinda pale.”
Henry swallowed and shivered a little, but all he said was, “I’m fine.”
“You look like shit.”
“Thank you. May I say the same for you?” While Henry was pale and sickly-looking in the bright light of late morning, Longarm was still half covered with dust and grime thrown up in clouds by the explosion. He had not yet had time to change clothes or clean up. There had been a meeting to hold and briefings to be given.
But that was earlier. Now they were in a hansom cab on their way across town.
“You’d feel better if we stopped an’ got you something to eat,” Longarm said. “We got time if you want.”
The suggestion turned Henry a rather interesting shade of yellowish green. Henry had long since lost last night’s supper, and he had not been willing to replace it this morning with any breakfast, settling for a few sips of sweet tea while Longarm had filled up with a hearty breakfast earlier.
“No, thank you,” the clerk said.
“You’d feel better.”
“Longarm, you are well and truly pissing me off.”
“Sorry.” Longarm settled back on the worn upholstery of the public conveyance and smoked a cigar in silence the rest of the way.
The cab delivered them outside the hospital, and Henry paid the driver, then followed Longarm inside and up to the third floor.
There was a different guard sitting outside Billy’s door. “Sorry. No admittance, gents. The man inside is in protective custody,” the guard told them.
“Is that so?” Longarm asked with a smile. Then, not in any mood to suffer horseshit from the likes of this asshole, he inserted the muzzle of his Colt about a quarter inch into the guard’s left nostril.
The man’s eyes went wide, and Henry leaned down and relieved him of his revolver, then said, “We are United States deputy marshals here on official business. Who would you happen to be?”
“I, uh … I …”
“Speak up now. Don’t be shy.”
“I, um, I’m just doing what I was told. You know? Protective custody. Really.”
“Under whose protection?” Longarm asked, withdrawing the .44, but not very far.
“West Colorado Stockmen’s Association,” the unhappy guard told them.
“You have special law-enforcement powers under state law, is that right?” Henry asked. If so it was news to Longarm, but then he didn’t pay all that much attention to stuff that did not directly concern him.
“Uh, yeah, I guess so.”
“Let me tell you something, friend,” Henry said. “Your authority does not exceed ours. So stay well out of our way and maybe you will not have to go to jail.”
“Jail? Me? Marshal, I ain’t done nothing but what I was told. An’ that’s the natural truth.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it is,” Longarm said. He jammed his Colt back into its holster and turned away, Henry following close behind. The guard vacated his chair at the earliest possible instant, and went tearing off down the hospital corridor like his life depended on it.
Longarm and Henry entered Billy Vail’s room without knocking. Henry, Longarm saw without comment, looked close to tears when he saw the boss alive and well and lying in the narrow hospital bed there.
“Should be pretty much over with by now,” Longarm said, pulling his watch out and checking the time. “The rest of the boys should’ve had time by now to pretty much round all of them up. The ones we know about anyway. Likely there’s more, but we’ll find out about all that when we’ve had a chance to talk to the big boys.”
Before Billy could answer there was a commotion at the door, and Acting U.S. Attorney Cotton came bustling in. “You two had better have a good explanation for this or you will find yourselves out of work, I can assure you. You are interfering with an ongoing investigation.”
“Is that so?” Longarm asked.
“Yes, it most certainly is. I just hope you have not destroyed all our work thus far. Hasn’t Marshal Vail told you? He is here on an entirely voluntary basis, at the specific request of the president of the United States. We have good reasons for all this, reasons which you are in no position to understand, yet the two of you come charging in here like a pair of bulls in the proverbial china shop. You threaten one of my special deputies with a gun. You expose your own employer to danger. I … I don’t know what other harm you may have caused.”
Cotton marched into the center of the room with two handsomely dressed young men behind him. Two men, Longarm noticed, who pretty much fit the description that John Boatwright had given him for the two men who claimed to be newspaper reporters. Perhaps also the two men Carl Beamon was supposed to meet the night he was killed? Longarm wouldn’t have been surprised if that were so also.
“I’m sure my people didn’t mean to interfere with your investigations, J.B.,” Billy said.
“Perhaps not, Marshal, but you never know what damage they may have caused. Why, those Indians have sympathizers everywhere. You don’t know who you can trust.”
“The Indians that are responsible for the bombing that killed Mrs. Troutman?” Longarm asked.
“That’s right. The Ute tribe. We have definitive proof now that they were behind the attack. The problem is that we do not yet know which misguided whites may be supporting them.”
“Now ain’t that interesting,” Longarm drawled. “You have proof, eh?”
“That’s right, we do, and-“
“Commissioner Troutman knows all about it?” Longarm asked.
“Of course he does, and believe me, Marshal, the commissioner will be most upset when he learns that your people are not cooperating.”
“You’ve seen Commissioner Troutman, J.B.?” Billy asked.
“As recently as last night,” Cotton declared. “We had dinner together and talked about the results our people are obtaining.”
“Now that’s extra fascinating,” Longarm said, “because the way I understand it, Commissioner Troutman was killed in that bomb blast. Him an’ his lady too.”
“That is what we wanted the public to believe,” Cotton said smoothly. “The marshal here is in on the real truth. Has been all along. Tell him, Vail. Tell your man what you know.”