“We were all inside by then, if you recall. Commissioner Troutman was in a fine mood. Laughing, pleased, eager to get started on his assignment. His wife saw someone in the crowd that she thought she recognized. She leaned forward to wave to whoever it was, and that was when the bomb was thrown in through the side window.”
“Yeah, I remember that much.”
“The fuse was short. There was no time for any of us to do anything. The bomb fell onto the floor at the back of the carriage and rolled under Mrs. Troutman’s skirts.”
“Jesus,” Longarm muttered.
“Really. It was ugly, I can tell you that. She was torn up pretty badly, or so I was told later. Not that I can personally attest to it, but I can certainly believe it. They said she took nearly all the blast.” Billy frowned again, obviously thinking that “they” had had much to say. And not all of it was necessarily true.
“But you, Boss, how’d you and the others survive?”
“Like I told you, Mrs. Troutman took most of the force of the explosion. They said the commissioner was badly injured but that he will recover. I was knocked out by the concussion of the blast, and I would assume the others were too. When I came to again I was downstairs in this hospital. I was covered in dried blood and had a headache. My ears were ringing, and for a couple days there I couldn’t hear very well, but that was about the extent of my injuries. There was no permanent harm done.”
“Did they say anything about the commissioner’s leg, Billy?”
“No. Why?”
“Because it was blown clean off, that’s why. I saw that myself. Saw one of the ambulance attendants pick it up an’ lay it on the stretcher they’d put his body on. An’ I woulda sworn, Billy, that the commissioner was already dead at that point, even though, of course, I didn’t walk right up an’ look at him. He just … had that empty, used-up look. You know what I mean.”
The U.S. marshal nodded. He too had seen more than his fair share of dead men.
Longarm grunted. “How’d they talk you into playing dead, Billy?”
“They said the bomb was thrown by a faction of renegade Ute Indians who were afraid the commissioner was going to rule against them in his recommendations to the president and Congress. They said the president himself asked that the public be told we all were dead so the renegades would think they succeeded and not make another attempt, perhaps a more successful one this time, to assassinate the special commissioner. They said the president asked for our cooperation with this to give Commissioner Troutman time to complete his assignment.”
“That’s what ‘they’ said, is it?” Longarm asked. Billy nodded.
“Boss, I think you and me and the rest of the boys need to be doing some real serious work here. There’s stuff going on that I can’t begin to figure out. But I damn sure intend to find out what it is.”
Chapter 26
“Doctor? Excuse me, Doctor. I just wanted you to know that I’m back on duty now. You can leave any time you want.” The guard smiled and ducked back out of the room.
Longarm, perched on the side of Billy’s hospital bed with a cheroot between his teeth, did not want to take any chances on the guard overhearing something he shouldn’t. Smooth as glass he shifted from being a deputy into his assumed identity as a doctor. “Well, Mr. Janus, I’ll leave you now. You seem to be doing just fine, however. There is nothing for you to worry about.” Longarm gave Billy a long, level look and repeated, “Nothing. Do you understand?”
“I do, Doctor. Thank you.”
Longarm stood, and the two rather formally shook hands, even though the door was closed between them and the guard outside. “I’ll stop by again real soon,” Doctor Long promised.
“I look forward to seeing you again.” Billy sounded like he meant that too. And no wonder, Longarm thought. Now that he knew the game wasn’t what it seemed to be, it would be mighty difficult for Billy to stay cooped up there like a sheep in the slaughterhouse. Which might well be an unpleasantly apt simile.
It had occurred to Longarm by now—and almost certainly must have crossed Billy’s mind too, or damned soon would—that whoever was behind this charade could not possibly hope to get away with it forever.
And it just could be that eventually “they”—whoever they were—would conclude that long-term secrecy demanded the elimination of anyone who would be in a position to dispute all the false claims that were so casually being thrown around.
It just could be that eventually Billy Vail, U.S. Attorney Terrell, and Commissioner Troutman would have to be eliminated in order to assure their silence.
Thinking about that, Longarm glanced quickly over his shoulder to assure himself that the door remained shut, then tugged at his watch chain. A sharp jerk broke the fragile link that had been soldered onto the butt of his hideout gun, freeing the .44 derringer from the chain. Without needing to explain, Longarm passed the little gun—as nasty in its bite as it was small in the hand—to Billy, and handed over as well the half-dozen loose rimfire cartridges that he had put in a pocket of the smock.
Not that Billy would necessarily need a firearm here in Denver’s finest hospital.
But a man never knew. Especially when neither of them had any idea what this shit was all about.
Billy tucked the derringer out of sight beneath the covers and nodded a silent thank-you.
“Goodbye, Mr. Janus.”
“Goodbye, Doctor.”
The guard was effusive in his thanks for the “doctor” who’d stood in for him with the patient. Without thinking about it, Longarm tried to touch the brim of his Stetson by way of acknowledgment, then realized a trifle too late that what he was wearing was not the familiar hat but the gadget with the magnifying glass attached. He covered the lapse by scratching his head, then muttered an absentminded goodbye to the guard before turning and ambling down the long, empty corridor, his attention appearing to center on the sheaf of papers he still carried.
