“Sergeant,” he said tonelessly, raised a hand, jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “on your way. Take both cars. Sirens. I’ll stay here. Report as soon as possible.”
MacDonald started out. Delaney caught up with him before he reached the hallway door, took his arm.
“In the outside toilet,” he whispered, “in the cabinet under the sink. A pile of clean white towels. Take a handful with you.”
The sergeant nodded, and was gone.
The Captain came back into the middle of the room. He began to dictate orders to the two radiomen and the two telephone men.
“To Bulldog Two, remain on station and assist.”
“To Bulldog Three, take Danny Boy. Extreme caution.” Both cars cut in to answer; the waiting men heard more shots, curses, shouts.
“To downtown Communications. Operation Lombard top priority. Four cars New York entrance to George Washington Bridge. Detain black Chevy Corvette. Give them license number, description of Danny Boy. Extreme caution. Armed and dangerous.”
“You and you. Take a squad. Up to George Washington Bridge. Siren and flasher. Grab a handful of those photos of Danny Boy and distribute them.”
“To Communications. Officer in need of assistance. Ambulance. Urgent. Give address of Castle.”
“To Deputy Inspector Thorsen: ‘He’s running. Will keep you informed. Delaney.’”
“To Assault-Homicide Division. Crime in progress at Castle. Give address. Urgent. Please assist Operation Lombard.”
“To Bulldog Ten. Recall to Barbara with car.”
“To Bulldog One. Seal Danny Boy’s apartment in White House. Twenty-one H. No one in, no one out.”
“To Stryker. Seal Danny Boy’s office. No one in, no one out.”
“You and you, down to the Factory to help Stryker. Take Ten-0’s car when he arrives.”
“To Special Operations. Urgently need three heavy cars. Six men with vests, shotguns, gas grenades, subs, the works. Three snipers, completely equipped, one in each car. Up here as soon as possible. Oh yes…cars equipped with light bars, if possible.”
“You and you, pick up the Mortons, at the Erotica on Madison Avenue, for questioning.”
“You, pick up Mrs. Cleek at the Factory. You, pick up the owner of The Parrot on Third Avenue. You, pick up Charles Lipsky, doorman at the White House. Hold all of them for questioning.”
“To Communications. All-precinct alert. Give description of car and Danny Boy. Photos to come. Wanted for multiple homicide. Extreme caution. Dangerous and armed. Inform chief inspector.”
Delaney paused, drew a deep breath, looked about dazedly. The room was emptying out now as he pointed at men, gave orders, and they hitched up their guns, donned coats and hats, started out.
The radio crackled.
“Barbara from Searcher One.”
“Got you, Searcher One.”
“MacDonald. Outside the Castle. Fernandez down and bleeding badly. Tiger One down. Unconscious. At least a broken leg. Bulldog Three gone after Danny Boy. Bulldog Two and Searcher Two blocking off the street. Send assistance. Am now entering Castle.”
Delaney heard, began speaking again.
“To Communications. Repeat urgent ambulance. Two officers wounded.”
“To Assault-Homicide Division. Repeat urgent assistance needed. Two officers wounded.”
“Sir, Deputy Inspector Thorsen is on the line,” one of the telephone operators interrupted.
“Tell him two officers wounded. I’ll get back to him. Recall guard on Monica Gilbert and get men and car over here. Recall taps on Danny Boy’s phone and Monica Gilbert’s phone. Tell them to remove all equipment, clean up, no sign.”
“Barbara from Searcher One.”
“Come in, Searcher One.”
“MacDonald here. We have one homicide: female, white, black hair, early thirties, five-four or five, a hundred and ten, slender, skull crushed, answering description of the Princess. White, male boy, about twelve, naked and hysterical, answering description of Anthony Montfort. One white male, six-three or four, about one-sixty or sixty- five, unconscious, answering description of houseman Valenter, broken nose, facial injuries, bad breathing. Need two ambulances and doctors. Fernandez is alive but still bleeding. We can’t stop it. Ambulance? Soon, please. Tiger One had broken right leg, arm, bruises, scrapes. Ambulances and doctors, please.”
Delaney took a deep breath, started again.
“To Communications. Second repeat urgent ambulance. One homicide victim, four serious injuries, one hysteria victim. Need two ambulances and doctors soonest.”
“To Assault-Homicide. Second repeat urgent assistance. Anything on those cars Communications sent to block the George Washington Bridge?”
“Cars in position, sir. No sign of Danny Boy.”
“Our men there with photos?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“Anything from Bulldog Three?”
“Can’t raise them, sir.”
“Keep trying.”
Blankenship came over to the Captain, looking down at a wooden board with a spring clamp at the top. He had been making notes. Delaney noted the man’s hands were trembling slightly but his voice was steady.
“Want a recap, sir?” he asked softly.
“A tally?” Delaney said thankfully. “I could use that. What have we got left?”
“One car, unmarked, and four men. But the recalls should be here soon, and Lieutenant Dorfman next door sent over two men in uniform to stand by. He also says he’s holding a squad car outside the precinct house in case we need it. The three cars from Special Operations are on the way.”
“No sign of Danny Boy at the Bridge, sir. Traffic beginning to back up.”
“What?” the other radio operator said sharply. “Louder. Louder! I’m not making you.”
Then they heard the hoarse, agonized whisper:
“Barbara…Bulldog Three…cracked up…lost him…”
“Where?” Delaney roared into the mike. “God damn you, stay on your feet? Where are you? Where did you lose him?”
“…north…Broadway…Broadway…Ninety-fifth…hurt…”
“You and you,” Delaney said, pointing. “Take the car outside. Over to Broadway and Ninety-fifth. Report in as soon as possible. You, get on to Communications. Nearest cars and ambulance. Officers injured in accident. Son of a bitch!”
“Barbara from Searcher One.”
“Got you, Searcher One.”
“MacDonald. One ambulance here. Fernandez is all right. Lost a lot of blood but he’s going to make it. The doc gave him a shot. Thanks for the towels. Another ambulance pulling up. Cars from Assault-Homicide. Mobile lab…”
“Hold it a minute, sergeant.” Delaney turned to the other radio operator. “Did you check the cars on the Bridge?”
“Yes, sir. The photos got there, but no sign of Danny Boy.” Delaney turned back to the first radio. “Go on, sergeant.”
“Things are getting sorted out. Fernandez and Tiger One (what the hell
