Now and then - By Robert B. Parker Page 0,59
it fi rst. Then more silence. Then maybe the hint of a latch being turned, a door being opened. Then silence again. Then, suddenly, a dim movement in the front hall. One man, carrying a handgun, dressed in black, his face blackened. He went to the front door and unlatched the safety bar and opened the door. Two more men came in. One had an Uzi. They too were all in black. The two men started silently up the front stairs. The first man, the man who had let them in, checked to see that the door was unlocked and then closed it and turned and started to follow the other two past me where I stood in the spare room. I stepped out behind him as he passed and brought the sawed-off baseball bat down on his gun hand. He yelped softly and the gun clattered on the front hall floor. The noise was shockingly loud. The men on the stairs turned. I grabbed my guy by the hair and yanked him into the spare room. The man with the Uzi sprayed the hallway with bullets. As soon as he stopped shooting, Hawk stepped out of Susan’s office and killed both men with the shotgun.
In the offi ce I had my man on the fl oor with my knee on his chest and the muzzle of the Browning pressed hard against the bridge of his nose. Hawk dropped the shotgun, took out his handgun, and went up the front stairs past the two dead men without making a sound.
On the floor in the spare room, my guy was perfectly still, disoriented, probably, from the suddenness of his situation. For several moments there was no sound. Then there was a rattle of gunfire from upstairs. Then there was nothing. Then there was the sound of footsteps on the front stairs, and Hawk’s voice.
“We got one too,” Hawk said.
67.
We found the van keys on one of the dead men.
Vinnie pulled the van up beside Susan’s house and we put the dead men in it, being careful about fingerprints. With Hawk behind him, Vinnie drove the van up to Porter Square and left it in the parking lot at the shopping center. Then he came back with Hawk.
It was approaching four in the morning. The lights were on in the house. The brightness seemed almost overpowering in contrast to the stark blackness before. My captive sat on the couch in the spare room. I sat in front of him with my handgun resting on my right thigh. Chollo was with the other captive in Susan’s offi ce.
Both the captives were younger than I had expected. Mine was barely more than a kid. Maybe twenty-two. He had a slim, athletic build, like he might be a good tennis player. His dark hair was shoulder length and his big dark eyes were terrifi ed. It had probably been a great adventure for him. And now it wasn’t.
Hawk and Vinnie came back from Porter Square. Hawk came into the spare room with me. Vinnie went to prowl the house, in case there was another attack. Which there wasn’t. Hawk sat down off to the side and looked at the kid with interest. I put my gun away. Neither of us spoke. The kid tried for the calm fatalism of a true terrorist. But he didn’t have it. He stared back at us for a while.
Then he said, “What are you going to do?”
Neither Hawk nor I spoke. Even in motionless repose, there was something electric about Hawk, a sense of barely contained kinesis. The kid’s attempt at stoicism kept breaking down into uneasy glances at him. The silence extended.
“I am a prisoner of war,” the kid said.
Hawk and I did not respond. The silence became increasingly palpable. The pressure became more dense. The kid’s face was very pale. He seemed to have some trouble swallowing.
“If you do not kill me,” he said, “I can tell you things.”
“Do,” I said.
“Excuse me, sir?”
His voice was thin and shaky. It sounded as if his mouth was very dry.
“Do tell us things,” I said.
“I . . . I will tell you whatever you wish,” he said.
“Who sent you here,” I said.
“Perry.”
“Perry who?” I said.
“I don’t know his last name, sir. We only use first names. He is a brother in arms. He is the leader of Last Hope.”
“You?” I said.
“I am Darren,” he said. “I am a member of Freedom’s Front Line.”
“Why did Perry send you?”
“We were to kill