And he could imagine the sort of damage a bomb like that would do when it went off. Not only would there be the force of the explosion to contend with, there would also be a virtual storm of shards of brick flying in all directions, as deadly effective as the splinters of steel shrapnel from an artillery shell. Anyone within probably ten yards or so was sure to be injured at the very least, and anyone close to the blast would surely be killed.
“I don’t know what you think you’re gonna accomplish with that thing, lady, but let me tell you something. If you think you can bluff me …”
“Bluff, lawman? I do not bluff, never,” the woman hissed.
One of the men said something to her, and she gave him a short, sneering answer. The man went pale.
“She will kill us all,” the third man, who was standing immediately beside her, yelped in a high-pitched, overly shrill voice. The man sounded scared half out of his britches. Not that Longarm could blame him. The woman was holding the brick so the end of the fuse hung mighty damn close to the flame of the lamp in her other hand. “Leave us, mister, please, or she will blow us all up.”
“Now that’s kinda funny when you think about it,” Longarm said. “You got no proper hostages so you think you can get me to back off by taking yourselves hostage? Bullshit. If you assholes wanta blow yourselves up, be my guests. Light that fuse an’ be damned for all I care.” He jammed the end of his cheroot between his teeth and glared at them.
Then Longarm’s eyes widened in complete and unfeigned surprise as the crazy female did just about the last thing in the world he ever would have expected.
The idiot did light the fuse.
And boldly, unflinchingly, held the bomb high so it could complete its destructive work with maximum efficiency.
Jesus, Longarm had time to think as he threw himself backward toward the doorway.
Chapter 39
Henry still looked sick. Not that Longarm could blame him. Who would have thought that much blood could come out of such few people? It was positively amazing.
And at that the damage hadn’t been nearly as bad as it might have been. Luckily only a few of the bombs on the worktable had gone off along with the one the young woman had deliberately exploded. Had all the explosive material in that cellar gone up, it would have brought the tenement down and probably half the other buildings in the block too.
As it was, there was one hell of a mess for the Denver police to clean up. And plenty of explanations that would have to be made later. At a more convenient time.
“Are you all right, Henry? You look kinda pale.”
Henry swallowed and shivered a little, but all he said was, “I’m fine.”
“You look like shit.”
“Thank you. May I say the same for you?” While Henry was pale and sickly-looking in the bright light of late morning, Longarm was still half covered with dust and grime thrown up in clouds by the explosion. He had not yet had time to change clothes or clean up. There had been a meeting to hold and briefings to be given.
But that was earlier. Now they were in a hansom cab on their way across town.
“You’d feel better if we stopped an’ got you something to eat,” Longarm said. “We got time if you want.”
The suggestion turned Henry a rather interesting shade of yellowish green. Henry had long since lost last night’s supper, and he had not been willing to replace it this morning with any breakfast, settling for a few sips of sweet tea while Longarm had filled up with a hearty breakfast earlier.
“No, thank you,” the clerk said.
“You’d feel better.”
“Longarm, you are well and truly pissing me off.”
“Sorry.” Longarm settled back on the worn upholstery of the public conveyance and smoked a cigar in silence the rest of the way.
The cab delivered them outside the hospital, and Henry paid the driver, then followed Longarm inside and up to the third floor.
There was a different guard sitting outside Billy’s door. “Sorry. No admittance, gents. The man inside is in protective custody,” the guard told them.
“Is that so?” Longarm asked with a smile. Then, not in any mood to suffer horseshit from the likes of this asshole, he inserted the muzzle of his Colt about a quarter inch into the guard’s left nostril.
The man’s eyes went wide, and Henry leaned down and relieved him of his revolver, then said, “We are United States deputy marshals here on official business. Who would you happen to be?”
“I, uh … I …”
“Speak up now. Don’t be shy.”
“I, um, I’m just doing what I was told. You know? Protective custody. Really.”
“Under whose protection?” Longarm asked, withdrawing the .44, but not very far.
“West Colorado Stockmen’s Association,” the unhappy guard told them.
“You have special law-enforcement powers under state law, is that right?” Henry asked. If so it was news to Longarm, but then he didn’t pay all that much attention to stuff that did not directly concern him.
“Uh, yeah, I guess so.”
