every chance you get. You acknowledge their individuality that way, you suggest that you accept their personal worth, and they become less afraid that you're going to hurt or kill them.
The clerk said, 'Walter.'
'What do they call you? Walt? Wally?'
'Just Walter.' He sounded depressed by the fact.
Grofield said, 'Okay, Walter. How many more employees are in the store?'
'Four.'
'Just seven of you tonight? How come?'
'We always have just seven,' Walter said. 'We're the regular night crew.'
'Okay. What are the first names of the other four?'
'Hal and Pete and Andy and Trig.'
'Trig?'
'It's a nickname. He's Anthony Trigometrino.'
'Okay. Where are they? All four out by the shelves?'
'No, Trig's in the stockroom. The others are out front.'
'And where's the stockroom?'
Walter made a vague gesture in the general direction of Hughes. 'Through that door… down there.'
'Okay, Walter. You and I are going to walk down there, and you're going to stick your head through the doorway and ask Trig to come out here for a minute. Got that?'
Walter nodded. 'I'll do it.'
'You won't say anything dumb.'
'No, sir,' Walter said. His nervousness was increasing again.
Grofield didn't want anybody getting over-emotional. He didn't like to do that to people unnecessarily, in the first place, and in the second place a calm person tended to cause less trouble. He said, 'Walter, I'm sorry if I make you nervous. There's nothing I can do about the gun and the mask. But you know all we care about is the cash in the safe, right?'
Walter nodded.
'And you know we'd rather not have the police looking for us for shooting somebody.'
'I guess so,' Walter said.
'Take my word for it, Walter. We'll make this whole thing as easy as we can for everybody. Now, let's go down to the door there.'
'All right,' Walter said. He seemed somewhat calmer.
They went down by the door. Hughes was masked now, and carrying a Smith & Wesson Centennial.38 with a grip safety; a bar on the back of the grip had to be depressed before the revolver could be fired.
Hughes stepped two quick paces back from his post beside the doorway and whispered. 'There's somebody in the next room. I think it's just one.'
'That's Trig,' Grofield whispered. 'Walter's going to call him out now. Go ahead, Walter. Tell him to come out here for a minute, and then step back and leave the doorway clear. Got it?'
'Yes,' Walter said. He was matter-of-fact, and he'd dropped the 'sir,' which was good. It meant he wasn't afraid of being killed any more.
Grofield and Hughes stood beside the wall, Grofield in front because the machine gun was more persuasive to look at than a small revolver, and Walter went over and stood in the doorway. He called, 'Trig?' A voice called something back, and Walter said, 'Come on out here a minute, will you?'
Grofield could make out what the voice said this time:
Trig came through the doorway still grousing, and was a full two strides into the room before he noticed Grofield and Hughes and the guns. He'd started griping at Walter, saying, 'How do you expect me to get my-' Then he stopped dead, mouth and feet, and stared at the gun.
Grofield said, 'Keep walking, Trig. Don't do anything excitable.'
Trig was heavyset, medium height, and very hairy. He looked to be in his late twenties, and wore black slacks and a white T-shirt. No apron. His arms were thick and hairy, and he had initials tattooed on the left upper arm: AT-VC. He had a heavy sullen face, with thick blue beard shadow. He was the kind who does excitable things and louses everybody up and gets himself killed.
The idea was to keep things moving. Grofield said, 'Walter, walk on over to the corner over there, by the other door. Trig, walk on out to the truck. Go on out by Red and Tommy.'
The idea behind moving Walter away was to leave Trig the only one not standing next to a wall. Completely alone in the middle of the concrete floor, Trig looked this way and that, his shoulder muscles bunching but his brain unable to decide where or how he should jump. And as he continued to look around, to see Hughes behind Grofield, to see Barnes with another machine gun at the entrance to the truck, to see Tommy and Red already trussed up and sitting on the truck floor, Trig's tensed shoulders slowly lowered, his half-clenched fists
