fewer pieces of electronic equipment, and less open floor space. Lined around the walls were framed photographs of groups of men standing in front of fire engines, some horse-drawn.
Chambers moved to the left of the door and sensed Parker moving to the right. This was the part he liked, moving fast and moving sure, moving like the pieces of a clock. Let somebody else make the plans; all Chambers wanted was to know his own part in it.
Parker was saying, “You don’t have to raise your hands, you aren’t armed. You, what’s your name?”
“Dee Deegan.”
“First name.”
“George.”
“And you?”
“Johanson, William Johanson.”
“They call you Bill or Will?”
“Uh, Bill.”
“All right, Bill, George, just pay attention.”
While Parker gave them the spiel, using their first names a lot, telling them how nothing would happen to them if they didn’t try nothing stupid, Chambers moved around and pulled a chair out from a desk with his foot and sat down. He kept the rifle level, hoping one of these bastards would make a run for it or something; he’d do just like Parker said, he’d gun him down in a second. But he knew neither of them would try anything; both paunchy geeks in their fifties, scared so bad they had to change their drawers.
Chambers wasn’t so sure about Parker. He was supposed to be sharp and cool and efficient and all that, but Chambers wasn’t so sure. What was all this crap about the first names? Who cared what kind of first names these stupes had? It was a waste of time.
When Parker was done, Grofield and Phillips came up and hogtied the one named Johanson William Johanson, tieing wrists and ankles and gagging him. Then Parker said to the other one, “How many men on tonight?”
“Fuh four.”
“Including you two?”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry. S-s-six.”
“All right, George, just relax. Nobody’s going to hurt you. Where are the other four?”
“Down the hall. They’re asleep, mister.”
“We’ll wake them easy. Which room?”
“Last two on the left.”
“Thanks, George.” Parker turned his head and spoke to Chambers. “We’ll let you know when it’s clear.”
“Sure thing.”
Parker and the others went out to tie and gag the other four sleeping beauties, and Chambers said, sarcastically, “Okay, now, George, just sit right down there. Right there where you were.”
George sat down.
“What kind of card game was that, George?”
“Gin.”
“Gin. Is that right? You got any of that other kind of gin here, George? You know the kind I mean?”
“No, we don’t. I’m sorry, we don’t have anything like that.”
“That’s a real pity, George.” Chambers grabbed the bottom of his hood, just under his chin, and flapped it, to get some air inside. “This is a real nice firehouse you got here, George,” he said.
“What are you people going to do?”
“Oh, now, don’t go asking questions. Remember what happened to that curious cat.”
Chambers stretched, and then set the rifle down on the desktop beside him, where it was handy. He said, “You know what you’re supposed to do, you get any kind of call, right?”
“Yes. I know.”
“Good boy, George. I sure do wish you had some of that other kind of gin.”
“I’m sorry. How how long is this going to be? I mean, before you let us go.”
“Curiosity, George.”
“But what if there’s a fire?”
“Why, we’ll just toast marshmallows, George.” Chambers laughed, and stuck a hand up under his hood to wipe the sweat from his face.
Parker stuck his head in and said, “Clear. We’re moving on now.”
“Have a good time, y’all.”
“We’ll keep you posted. By phone.”
Parker went out again.
