'Goddamn you,' came the clear, hard tones of Connie Longacre, 'you get out of my way, Harry Debaugh, or I will sic such a crew of lawyers on you, you will wish you had never ever set foot on this planet from whatever coward's rocket ship you arrived on.'
And with that, she stepped around the door, the sheriff and two deputies in pursuit, but unable to stand against her force of will.
Connie was beautiful. She had blond hair and soft skin and a nose like an ax blade. She could have used more chin, and eyes of blue or green instead of sea gray, and she could have dressed more like the woman she was instead of in jeans and boots and a sweater, but she was still such a heartbreaking vision Sam almost started to cry.
'Connie, for God's sakes, get out of here. This is?'
'Sam, I tried to stop her.'
'Mrs. Longacre, this is a crime scene, and you are not authorized.'
'Ma'am, your husband?'
'You shut up, all of you. I've heard enough. You run away, you little man, and pray I can help Sam or my husband, Ranee, will be very angry.'
'Sam, I?' began the sheriff.
'Sam, what is all this nonsense?'
'Connie, please, this thing could go off at any moment.'
'Mrs. Longacre, won't you please come this way and?'
'Don't you touch me!' she screamed, and the two deputies jerked backward. The sheriff yielded, then surrendered.
'All right, Sam,' she said approaching as steadily as a three-masted schooner under nine sheets and a full breeze, 'what the hell have we got going on here?'
'Connie, I cannot?'
'I am not going to go sit in the car, Sam, while you blow up, so you had better tell me what to do and tell me now!' connie cut slowly, with perfect concentration. The surgical shears were sharp, and she cut in smooth strokes, unfaltering, unperturbed, unhurried, as if she'd worked with bombs her entire life. She had most of the back end of the box off now.
'What do you see?'
'Just a second.'
With a deft snip, the scissors closed their last. She set them down gingerly, then with her pale and elegant but steady hands, removed the rear of the box.
The smell of Cosmoline immediately flooded the room.
'How disgusting,' she said.
'It's government gun grease.'
'There seems to be wads of paper or something.'
'Can you get them out so you can see?'
'I can try. How are you doing, darling?'
'I'm fine. Never been better. I may start to dance any second I'm so happy.'
'There, there, darling. We'll have a nice martini when this is over, and then touch fingers and go back to our happy marriages.'
'Connie, for God's sakes?'
'All right, I'm pulling it out, just wait.'
Using the scissors' tips as pincers, she eased out a wad of crumpled newspaper, then another, and then another.
'Now I can see our boy,' she reported.
'And?'
'Hmmm. Yes, yes, what a naughty boy he is, too. He's about eight inches tall with a set of stubby little fins at the end of a shaft at his got! torn. His body is egg-shaped, greenish, with striations around the middle. The end is conical, but there's some kind of gizmo there, a sort of pipe coming out of it. I can't see for sure, but it looks like a nest of wires at the top.'
'Can you see if any of those wires leads out of the box, through a hole or something?'
'It's too dark, darling. Do you have a flashlight or anything?'
'Yeah, right here, in my pocket, I'll just put this down and get it.'
'Sam, don't be a smart aleck, even if you're about to be turned into Swiss cheese.'
'There's a flashlight somewhere, but oh, Christ, I don't know where it is. Get a lamp.'
'Mary will be so upset.'
But Connie went to an end table, seized a lamp from it, and ripped off its shade. Carefully holding it so the cord ran free, she brought it over to the package on the dining room table and snapped it on. The harsh, shadeless light made Sam flinch, and he did not need to flinch, for he almost let the ribbon go.
But Connie was peering in intently at what the light revealed.
'It does appear there's a cord tied neatly through the ring at the tip of the pipe, and a taut line runs up to the box and?' she lifted her eyes to follow the cord?'and, yes, darling, it does seem to be stoutly attached to the ribbon you are holding so tightly.'
'All right. This is what you have to do. You have to reach in there and very delicately unscrew the fuse from the warhead.'
'I don't know if I can get my hands in there. It's very tight. If I bump, the thing may go off, right?'
'I can't think of anything else. I've got a fairly firm grip for now.'
But that was a lie. Even as he spoke it seemed the fire in his fingers rose another ten degrees. Connie's presence let him block the agonies that assailed him, but now that magic was wearing off.
' Oh, where are those goddamn Army boys?'
'Just like an army. There's never one around when you need it.'
'Connie, this isn't going to work. We aren't going to make it.'
'Sam, we are going to make it. Tell me what to do and stop wasting your breath.'
'Connie, I?'
His fingers twitched. It felt like he was hanging off a ledge on their strength alone, and now, one by one, they were dying.
'Connie, please go.'
'Could we block it?'
'What?'
'Block it. The striker will fall, but if it strikes something else, then there won't be a boom, isn't that right?'
'Can you see in there? Is there a gap?'
Connie held the blazing bulb close again, and looked carefully.
'There should be a hole where they removed a safety pin as part of the arming process.'
'Yes, I see.'
'Listen, these things are made of cheap pan metal. They're not well made at all. Maybe with something you could scrape around the edge of that hole, enlarge it enough to get something in there to grind away at the hole and enlarge it enough to get something in there.'
Connie didn't say a word. She opened the surgical shears, inserted the point ever so delicately into the tiny opening for the safety pin.
'You've got a good grip.'
'Yes, ma'am.'
Not quite true. But as good as he could manage, given the pain in his hand.
'So long, been good to know you,' said Connie, and Sam felt the subtle change in the string when a kind of pressure was applied somewhere far down the system.
He looked at her. Her eyes were wide, and the harsh light illuminated the beauty of her face like a lamp on a statue in Italy. Her face was completely focused, completely calm. She wasn't even breathing hard.
He yearned to kiss her.
