More shots blasted out as Millard's men opened fire on the intruders. Luckily, the bouncers were armed with pocket pistols, but there was still way too much lead flying around to suit Longarm. He saw an expensively gowned woman go spinning off her feet as a stray bullet struck her in the shoulder. As she fell, she screamed thinly and clutched at the sudden bloodstain on her dress.
Men jostled Longarm roughly from both sides. He realized he had to get out of this press of terrified people if he intended to do anything about the situation. Though he knew it would make him a better target for anybody who wanted to take a potshot at him, he slapped his free hand on the bar top and vaulted onto the hardwood. His boots thudded on the mahogany as he ran nimbly along the bar toward the front of the room, bringing him closer to the marauders in derby hats.
The aim of the intruders seemed to be to wreak as much havoc as possible. While some of them were fighting with Millard's bouncers, others were overturning gaming tables and smashing light fixtures. A couple of them grabbed one of the women and literally ripped the clothes off her body, leaving her naked and screaming. Others who wielded clubs and blackjacks waded into the Brass Pelican's patrons, battering several men to the floor. Longarm stopped and snapped a shot at one of the raiders, who was about to bring a hobnailed boot down on the skull of a man who had been knocked off his feet. The stomping would have almost surely been fatal had not Longarm's bullet caught the man in the body and sent him to the floor.
The shot brought return fire, and Longarm crouched as slugs whipped around his head. He triggered twice more and saw one of the gunmen go down. The ebb and flow of the riot sent a knot of people surging between Longarm and the men who were shooting at him, and he used the momentary respite to lunge farther along the bar.
More gunshots from the rear of the club made him throw a glance over his shoulder. He bit back a curse as he saw that more of the masked men were pouring into the place from the back rooms, where they had undoubtedly gained entrance through an alley door. The patrons and employees of the Brass Pelican were caught in a cross fire now.
Millard still stood near the end of the bar. He had traded the sawed-off shotgun for a bung-starter, and he used it to slash at the heads of any of the intruders who came within arm's reach. However, he didn't see the two men who were coming up behind him, guns poised to ambush him.
'Millard!' bellowed Longarm, his voice cutting through the chaos of the attack. 'Get down!'
Millard's eyes widened as he saw Longarm twisting back toward him. Longarm threw himself flat on the bar as Millard ducked. That gave Longarm a clear shot at the men who were trying to kill the club owner. He triggered twice, the explosions coming so close together they almost sounded like one blast. The two intruders rocked back as Longarm's bullets thudded into their chests.
That was all Longarm had time to see, because in the next instant hands grabbed him and pulled him off the bar. He felt himself falling and reached out desperately, knowing that if he tumbled all the way to the floor, he would probably never get up again. His fingers snagged the vest of the man who had jerked him off the bar. His fall broken, Longarm lashed his empty Colt across the face of his opponent and felt the man's nose pulp under the blow. Warm blood spurted across the back of Longarm's hand.
He got his feet underneath him and struck again, clubbing at the man's head with the gun. The intruder's derby kept the blow from landing with full force, but it was still powerful enough to make the man's eyes roll up in their sockets as he went limp in Longarm's grasp. Longarm let go of him and let him fall.
He turned, looking for another opponent, and saw a knobby fist coming straight at his face. There was no time to avoid it completely, but he moved his head aside enough so that the blow only grazed him and knocked him back against the bar. He was grateful for the solid hardwood, which kept him from falling. He was able to block the next punch and strike back, reversing the Colt in his hand and using the butt to hammer the face of his attacker. The man stumbled backward, moaning, and was lost in the mob.
The booming of shotguns and the shrilling of whistles assaulted Longarm's ears. He looked toward the entrance and saw blue-uniformed figures bulling their way inside. The New Orleans police had finally arrived. At the sight of the police, the masked men broke off their wave of death and destruction and headed for the back door of the club. No one was left to stop their flight. Millard's bouncers were all down, and none of the Brass Pelican's patrons wanted to interfere. They were concerned only with saving their own skins.
There was nothing Longarm could do either. Too many people surrounded him on all sides. The best he could manage was to holster his gun and wait to see what would happen.
And look for Annie and Paul Clement while he was waiting. Concern for their safety gnawed at him.
The sounds of battle died away. The intruders had made good their escape. But they had left carnage and devastation behind them. Several women still sobbed softly, caught in the grip of fear. Men cursed bitterly and did some sobbing of their own.
Millard shoved several men aside and shouldered his way roughly through the crowd to confront one of the policemen. The badge-toter was as burly as Millard himself, and he had a bulldog face and a thick graying mustache. Millard glowered at him and said loudly, 'Damn it, Denton, you and your boys sure as hell took your time about getting here!'
The officer was just as angry and stubborn as Millard. 'You can't expect us to come into this hellhole you call Gallatin Street with any less than a full squad!' he blazed back at the club owner. 'When the report of trouble came in, I rounded up my men and got here as soon as I could.'
Millard waved an arm at the wreckage around him. Not soon enough to keep Royale's men from busting in here and ruining my place! They killed Luther, damn it, and who knows who else is dead!'
Longarm turned his back on Millard and the policeman called Denton. He pushed his way through the crowd toward the roulette table where he had last seen Annie and her brother. As he came up to the table, he saw that one leg of it had been broken, so that it tilted sharply down to the floor on one corner. Longarm didn't care about that. What mattered to him was that he saw Annie and Clement standing on the other side of the busted table. Both of them were pale and shaken, but other than that, they appeared to be all right.
Annie cried, 'Custis!' when she saw him, and Longarm made his way through the crowd to her side. She clutched at his arm, and he said over the hubbub, 'Are you hurt?'
She shook her head. 'No, Paul and I are fine. How about you?'
'Knocked around a mite, but I'll be fine.'
'That is what happened to us too, M'sieu Parker,' said Clement as he slid a protective arm around Annie's shoulders. 'Annie was very frightened.'
'You got any idea who those fellas were?' asked Longarm. 'I heard the name Royale a couple of times. I guess
