the move slightly cumbersome—heard Stevenson say, “Well, there certainly is a lot of money tonight. A full house, eh? A fitting close for the old building. The new one just won’t seem like home, will it? Here, let me—”
Garrison had seen neither Keegan nor Parker yet, and was standing in the doorway, waiting for Stevenson to tell him what he wanted. He was about Stevenson’s age, forty-something, but was leaner and harder, with a deeply lined face. Stevenson was trying to reach behind him to shut the door.
Garrison moved reluctantly, saying, “What is it, Mr. Stevenson?” The voice was carefully neutral, but in its very neutrality, betrayed the contempt Garrison felt. So he was going to be another Dockery, and potentially more trouble.
Stevenson, in shutting the door, started to lose his balance because of his nervousness, and had to cling to Garrison’s right arm; that was perfect, and an unexpected bonus. Stevenson said, gasping suddenly, “There are men with guns— Don’t do anything, for the love of God!”
“What?” Garrison backed into the closed door, trying to push Stevenson away.
“Lieutenant Garrison, don’t!”
Parker called, “It’s okay, Dan!”
Garrison, confused for a second by the sound of his own first name, stopped struggling with Stevenson and looked around, still seeing no one. “What the hell is this?”
Parker had the automatic pointed at Garrison’s chest. He called, “RG, back up! Back up to your left.”
Stevenson hurriedly backed away, babbling as he went: “I don’t want anybody killed! I promised there’d be full cooperation! We’re insured, it’s all right, they’re only after the money—”
Garrison came a quick step in from the door. His hand was near his holstered revolver, but not quite touching it. He saw Keegan suddenly, and tensed, frowning. Parker said, “Over here, Dan, here’s where the gun is.” Garrison looked quickly toward the voice, and now he saw Parker and the gun. He made no move, but his expression got more grim.
Keegan, still watching through the mirror, said, “They’re getting interested.” Meaning one or more of the people in the other room had seen Stevenson’s odd moves and were beginning to wonder.
Parker said, “Dan, lie down on your face. Don’t make me shoot your kneecap. I could set off a bomb in here tonight, nobody’d hear it anywhere outside. Get down.”
“You’re not going to—”
“We don’t have time, Dan. Down or I shoot, and I mean now.”
Stevenson, backed up against the front of the desk and leaning backward against it for support, cried, “For God’s sake, do it! It isn’t worth getting killed over!”
“You’ll pay,” Garrison said grimly, and got slowly down onto the floor.
Parker lifted the phone up to his ear again. “Beau?” 37 “Who is this, dammit?”
Keegan said, “The woman’s talking to him. About the scene in here.”
Parker said, “Beau, I want to tell you Dan Garrison is lying on his face in RG Stevenson’s office, and two men have guns pointed at him. If you do anything hasty or stupid, they’ll kill Dan and then rise up and kill you through the glass. You look at RG now, and he’ll nod to tell you what I’m saying is true. Nod, RG.”
Parker looked up, and saw Stevenson’s head lower and raise; a mechanical move, as though he were a newly completed robot trying the motion for the first time.
Keegan said, “Hand over!”
“Get your hand off the mouthpiece, Beau! Don’t wake Hal up, you’ll just make trouble. Now turn your back to RG’s office. Keep the phone up to your face, and put your other hand on top of your head. Leave it there.”
Keegan said, “He’s done it.”
Keeping an eye on Garrison, who was prone with his head arched up so he could see what was going on, Parker got his feet under him and stood. “Move to the left, RG,” he said, and when Stevenson moved leftward, Parker had an unobstructed view of the room.
Everybody in there knew by now that something was wrong. Pressbury—a man about Dockery’s age, but more gone to seed—was on his feet now and walking toward Lavenstein, a worried frown on his face. The three male clerks were all still at their desks, but none of them were working. All were looking at Lavenstein, who was facing them and not saying anything. The woman clerk— hers was the front desk, the one with the phone—was standing beside Lavenstein, looking this way. Parker saw her see him and clutch at Lavenstein’s side; in the earpiece of the phone he could faintly hear her saying something to Lavenstein and then Lavenstein’s irritable voice, loud and clear, saying, “I know, I know.”
To Keegan, Parker said, “Take Dan.” Into the phone he said, “Beau, tell Hal to stand where he is. Go on, tell him.”
“Stop there, Hal. They’ve got guns on us, stop there.”
“Tell him to put his hands on his head.”
“They say to put your hands on your head. Better do it, I guess.”
“Tell him to turn left.”
“They say turn left.”
“Tell him to back up until he’s against the door.” Which would be the nearer door.
“They say you should back up against the door.”
“Tell the clerks to go over and sit on the sofa. The woman, too.”
“They want you people to go sit on the sofa.” The woman’s voice yammered; her expression through the glass
