Sandy fumbled one of the boxes of ammo, then another one. They hit the floor, and shells spewed out. ''Oh, shit,'' she said.
''Goddamnit,'' Martin growled. ''Get those…''
Sandy stooped, and began picking up the cartridges, stuffing them into her pockets, as the men climbed the stairs.
When they reached the top, and had started down the hall, Sandy darted to the telephone and dialed 911. The operator answered a second later, and she said,
''This is Sandy Darling calling for Chief Davenport. We're here buying guns.
They're gonna attack someplace. I'll leave the phone off the hook and try to keep them here…''
She placed the phone sideways across the top of the receiver and hurried up the stairs after LaChaise and Martin.
TWENTY
LUCAS AND DEL WERE WAKING UP WITH DAY-OLD DANISH and plastic foam cups of fake cappuccino when Dispatch called.
''Woman called for you and identified herself as Sandy Darling,'' the dispatcher said without preamble, excitement under her steady voice. ''Said they were buying guns and they're gonna attack something, but she didn't say what or when.
She left the phone off the hook. We've got Minnetonka started that way, but they've got almost nobody around: it'll be a few minutes.''
''Well, Jesus…'' Lucas jumped up and grabbed his coat as he spoke into the phone: ''How long ago did she call?''
''Thirty-five seconds.''
''Warn Minnetonka about the guns. Don't let some guy be a hero, just seal off the streets around the address and bring in a team, or whatever they do out there… If they need aid, get Lester and see if we can ship some of our ERU guys out, or maybe Hennepin County guys.''
''Marie is doing that now, most of it. Are you going?''
''Yeah. Gimme the address…''
He scribbled it down and said, ''Direct us in there: we'll be on the air in one minute.''
He slammed the phone down and Del said, ''What?'' and Lucas said, ''Darling called. She said they're buying guns and she left the phone off the hook.'' They were already running down the hallway.
LACHAISE AND MARTIN HAD ROLLED THE RIFLES UNDER their coats, and when Sandy came up from the basement, Martin asked, ''Get it all?''
''I got most of it,'' she said, rattling the shells in her pockets. She felt herself flushing, and thought, Oh my God; Martin would figure it out. She said,
''There's a lot more ammo down there. I think we missed most of it
…''
''Forget it,'' Martin said. He turned away and said to Frank, ''Here.'' He handed the white-haired man a wad of cash.
''This is not exactly a purchase,'' Frank said, tightly.
''Take the fuckin' money,'' Martin said impatiently. ''I feel bad enough anyway.
The cash comes off a drug dealer downtown, there's no tracing it, it's all clean. It'll more than cover the cost of the stuff.''
''Still not right,'' Frank said. He took the money.
''I know,'' Martin said, almost gently. ''But there's no help for it. Now walk us out to the car so you can wave goodbye.''
They were in the car, rolling, and Frank went back to the house with his hands in his pockets. They turned the corner, headed down another side street, then out to the highway. As they sat at the intersection, waiting for the light, a dark sedan crossed the highway against the light, and flashed past, heading into the welter of streets they'd just left.
''Asshole,'' LaChaise muttered.
Sandy closed her eyes.
LUCAS PUSHED THE EXPLORER OUT I-394, HIS FOOT TO the floor, the car banging and creaking with the speed, Del braced in the passenger seat, cursing with every slip and bump. Dispatch said the owner of the phone was a guy named Frank
Winter, no priors anywhere, but he was a registered federal firearms dealer.
''So she knew what she was talking about,'' Del said.
Ten minutes after they left City Hall, they found a phalanx of City of
Minnetonka and Hennepin County cars blocking access to the subdivision. Lucas hung his badge out the window and a cop pointed at a group of men, some in uniform and some in plainclothes. Lucas parked and he and Del walked over.
The command cops looked up and one of them, in plainclothes, said, ''Lucas,'' and Lucas nodded and said, ''Gene, what's happening?''
''We got a couple of guys in the house across the street,'' the cop said.
''There're lights on, but there's no cars out front. There's a set of tracks going up into the driveway, and then backing out. Pretty fresh. We've had this off-and-on snow and the guys say the tracks are crisp.''
''Might have come and gone,'' a uniformed cop said.
''The question is, do we call ahead? Or do we just take the place?''
Lucas shrugged and grinned at him. ''You da man.''
''Yeah, right,'' the plainclothes cop said sourly. Then, ''Fuck it. He's a firearms dealer, so he could have all kinds of shit in there… If we go bustin' in, we could have a fight. If we call ahead, what can they do? Can't get out.''
He was thinking out loud. One of the Hennepin cops said,''He can't flush the evidence down the toilet.''
''Huh. All right. Let's call.''
FRANK WINTER CAME OUT OF THE HOUSE WITH HIS hands over his head, and stood that way in the driveway, until an armored cop directed him down the middle of the street to a blocking car. Winter said on the phone that LaChaise, Martin and
Darling had been there-had left only fifteen minutes earlier-but the house was now empty. When he got to the blocking car, where Lucas and Del were waiting with a group of uniformed cops, one of the uniforms turned Winter around and patted him down.
''He's wearing a vest,'' one of the cops said.
''Why the vest?'' Del asked.
''In case one of you officers decided to shoot me,'' Winter said simply. ''The woman called you in, didn't she?''
''What woman?''
''The one with Martin and his friend,'' Winter said. Then, ''Do I need a lawyer?''
''Better give him his rights,'' Lucas said, and one of the cops recited the code. ''You want one?''
''Yeah, I better,'' Winter said. ''I was sitting there, thinking about calling you, when you called me.''
''Why didn't you?'' Lucas asked.
''Because I figured Martin would kill me, or LaChaise.''
''What'd they get from you?'' Del asked.
''A couple of pistols, an accurized seven-mil-Magnum Model 70 and a box of handloads and a whole bunch of AR-15 ammo. Martin's an Armalite freak: he's always reworking them. I'd be careful. I'd bet they've got modified with them.''
''This Model 70,'' Lucas said. ''Got a scope?''
''Yeah. A Leupold Vari-X III in 3.5 10.''
''A sniper rifle.''
''A varminter,'' said Winter.
''Yeah, if elk are varmints,'' Lucas said.
AN ENTRY TEAM SWEPT THE HOUSE. THE BASEMENT WAS an arsenal, but, as one of the cops said cheerfully, ''Nothin' illegal about that.''
Lucas was looking at a Model 70, a gray synthetic-stocked Winchester. 300 Magnum with a Pentax scope. He turned the eyepiece down to two-power and sighted across the basement at a crosshairs target. Winter had opened the gun safes so the weapons could be inventoried, and they'd found fifty handguns, two dozen rifles and as many shotguns. Del was playing with a derringer, snapping it at a wall target, and Lucas was looking at the butt of the Model 70, when a plainclothes cop came halfway down the stairs and said, ''We're sending Winter downtown. You got anything else you want to ask him?''
''Naw. I kind of think he's telling the truth,'' Lucas said.
''So do I, but he should have called us,'' the cop said. He grinned and said,
''Now he claims he tried to call out, but his phone was screwed up and he was afraid to go out. Says he didn't know the phone was off the hook down here, just that it didn't work.''
''Not bad, if he sticks to it,'' Lucas said.
The cop said, ''We got guys walking the neighborhood, checking about the car.''
Winter had said LaChaise, Martin and Darling were in a big brown car, but he didn't notice what kind because he wasn't thinking about it. Maybe a Lincoln or a Buick. The cop went on, ''The media are swarming in.''