minute. Anybody want to come along?’’
‘‘The what?’’ George hadn’t spent much time in the Winnebago.
We all were sort of committed to do something. I kept thinking about what Roger had said about guilt building up in Herman Stritch, and how he was about to understand that it was all over. Maybe. But the killing of Rumsford had to have done something in that house.
‘‘The what?’’ asked George, again. A1 answered him this time.
‘‘I think we’re going to go get Herman,’’ he said. ‘‘Looks like we are.’’
So we all continued walking down the lane. Me, Hester, A1, and George. Right by the junk pile. Right past the shed. Right past the TAC people. Right toward Rumsford’s body. Nobody said a word, but the breathing was getting a bit harder as we got closer to the house.
Finally, as we were just about to Rumsford’s body, George said, in a perfectly conversational tone of voice, ‘‘I certainly hope you know what you’re doing…’’
A voice cried out from the house. ‘‘Halt! Stop right there!’’
We’d caught them napping.
We stopped. ‘‘You guys stay here,’’ I said. ‘‘Anything happens, take ’em out.’’
‘‘Oh, right,’’ said Hester. ‘‘Like, we huff and puff?’’
I grinned at her. ‘‘Sounds like a plan.’’ I turned back toward the house. ‘‘Herman!’’ I yelled. ‘‘I’m coming onto the porch!’’ I looked at Hester. ‘‘Come with me, and just play along. You’re an insurance agent.’’
‘‘What? Carl, what? What insurance agent are you talking about?’’
We walked past Rumsford’s body, and I glanced at it. He’d fallen on his right side, and there was a very large bloodstain on the ground. Heart must have kept beating for a little while, I thought. Lot of blood. Damn. ‘‘Surprised me, too,’’ I muttered, as I passed him.
The gray paint on the porch steps was chipped pretty badly. Just as my foot touched the bottom step, Herman’s voice said, ‘‘Stop there, Carl.’’ He sounded pretty calm, but there was an edge to him. Good.
‘‘Shit’s gonna stop right now, Herman,’’ I said, pleasantly surprised by the steadiness of my voice. ‘‘I’ve had it.’’
Silence.
‘‘I’m coming up further, Herman. What I got to say, I don’t want to shout.’’
‘‘Put your gun down.’’
I’d forgotten about my damn gun. At least, it was pretty obvious to Herman, in its holster. That was good.
‘‘Sure, Herman. If you put yours down.’’ I took another step, and stopped. ‘‘You stay here,’’ I said softly to Hester. ‘‘Don’t forget you’re an insurance agent.’’
‘‘Watch what I’m doing,’’ I said to Herman. ‘‘You do the same.’’ I unsnapped my holster and pulled out my. 40 caliber Smith amp; Wesson. I pointed it upward, and pressed the magazine release. The magazine slid out the bottom, and I took it in my left hand, and sat it carefully on the floor of the porch. Then, with the gun still in my right hand, I pulled the slide back with my left and caught the ejected cartridge with the same hand. Plucked it right out of the air. I love to do that. I then placed the gun on the porch floor, locked in the open position. I picked up the magazine, replaced the ejected cartridge, and put it back on the porch. I straightened up. ‘‘Shove your magazine through the door, Herman.’’
I could barely see movement through the screen. It was very bright outside, and the house was very dark. But a moment later a. 30 caliber carbine magazine slipped through the screen door.
‘‘There’s more people with guns behind me,’’ said Herman.
‘‘Me too, Herman.’’ I couldn’t resist a white lie. ‘‘With a couple of armored vehicles due in about an hour.’’
It was awfully quiet.
‘‘You hear me okay in there?’’ I asked Herman, in a normal tone of voice.
‘‘Yeah.’’
‘‘Okay, Herman. Listen real good. I’ve had it. You understand me?’’
‘‘Yeah.’’
‘‘So this is what’s gonna happen, Herman. You come out onto the porch now. Then your people in the house. One at a time. You got that?’’
‘‘I got it, but I ain’t gonna do it. I don’t want no more of your tricks.’’
‘‘Yeah, you are, Herman. You’re gonna do it, and there ain’t no tricks. I’m just tellin’ you to do this to clear us of all liability. I gotta clear the liability before our insurance will let us take the house with maximum force. The armored vehicles. You understand?’’
Silence.
‘‘Our insurance carrier is Lloyds of London. They know all about dealing with the IRA and all that. They know we gotta do what we gotta do. They know that if you don’t come out now, we’re comin’ in. You understand what I’m saying, Herman?’’
Silence.
‘‘The lady standing back here is the Lloyds representative for Iowa. She’s listening to this pretty close. You see that, Herman?’’
There was some hesitation, then: ‘‘Yeah.’’
‘‘Good. And I’m sure you understand what I just said. So, in fifteen seconds, the same amount of time the SAS gave the terrorists in London, you come out or we take out everybody in the house. Legal. No lawsuit. ’Cause I warned you.’’
I turned around toward Hester. ‘‘Is that enough, lady?’’
‘‘Uh, just a moment,’’ said Hester. She looked at her watch. ‘‘The time will start in twenty seconds,’’ she said.
‘‘Okay, ma’am,’’ I said. I turned back toward the door, and was startled to see it opening. Herman stuck his head out.
‘‘We’ll give up, but I can only answer for my family.’’ He spoke rapidly, nervously. That was good.
‘‘Is that all right with Lloyds?’’ I asked Hester, without turning.
‘‘Acceptable,’’ she said tersely.
‘‘Come on,’’ said Herman. ‘‘It’s over.’’
Herman, his wife, his two sons, and a daughter-in-law slowly emerged from the dark interior of the house, and came onto the porch. All lightly dressed in dark clothes, looking hot, sweaty, and very nervous. None of them appeared armed, and this was no time to get bogged down in details. ‘‘Okay, folks,’’ I said to the Stritches, as briskly as I could manage. ‘‘If you’ll go over to those two men, they’ll take you safely back to the lines. Do what they tell you, and you’ll be fine. And, please, don’t step on my gun, there…’’
Even though they weren’t quite sure what the hell was going on, Al and George were up to the occasion. They acted more like considerate tour guides than cops, as they ushered Herman Stritch and family back toward the line of officers. I did notice that only Mrs. Stritch looked down as they passed Rumsford’s body. I reached down and picked up my gun, and puffed up my cheeks, and blew out a whole lungful of air. Neither Hester nor I said a word. I inserted the single round back into the magazine, and quietly pushed it into the gun. I grinned at Hester, and she smiled back.
Our little moment of joy was interrupted by the sound of the back door slamming. Other forces were leaving the fort. Well, he’d said he was only responsible for his family. Hopefully, they’d be gathered up by the officers on the hill, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath.
‘‘Three, Comm?’’ I said into my walkie-talkie.
‘‘Three?’’
‘‘Comm, we have possible suspects leaving the farmhouse, probably going west. Notify the officers on the back side of the property.’’ I said this as Hester and I headed around the corner of the house. By the time I got to the backyard, Hester was ahead of me, and ducking. As she hit the ground, I ducked too, more or less out of respect for her judgment. I just caught a glimpse of a camouflaged man disappearing into the corn, and a tall figure in a camouflage battle dress, complete with turkey netting over his face, swinging what looked for the world like an FN/FAL rifle toward us.
‘‘Ten-four, Three.’’
