Grantville Gazette 37

'Help is available,' John replied, then turned to Cora. 'Cora, we know what happened, we know how to fix it, and we know how to prevent it from happening again. Jonas will write a complete report, and write a checklist for you for how to maintain the machine so that it is safe to use. We're convinced this was a true accident, another incident of Murphy's imp sneaking in when we weren't looking. Do you have any questions?'

'No, I don't think so. We can go back to making espresso then?' Cora asked.

'As soon as we fix the machine, and you have the checklist Jonas is going to write,' Clarence said.

'Good!' Cora said.

John looked at the board. 'We have only one other report tonight, and I propose we take a break first, then we'll pass the floor to Doris McIntire and Chelsea Parker from the State Library . . . again.'

****

'Everyone ready?' John looked around. 'Okay, then. Doris, Chelsea, you have the floor.'

Neither of them stood. Chelsea looked at Doris and said; 'This one's on me, I think. One of my guards, and I'm not bothering with who just now-we've already dealt with that internally-but one of the guards opened the front door of the school and the door into the library this morning at six. He was alone, which is against policy, and he had not had a check in from the guard detailed to do the outside walk-around before opening the door. As you all know from the last time, that's part of the procedure. The outside walk-around should finish, come in the employee door, check with the duty guard, and then the duty guard, with a second watcher, is supposed to open the outer doors and then the inner.'

Chelsea took a deep breath. 'Yesterday morning, neither of those things happened. The duty guard, who will not be guarding anything for the foreseeable future, skipped those steps, and at six o'clock, simply unlocked the inner door, went through it to the front door of the school, unlocked that, and just walked back to the ready room. He had no partner, and so no one stayed at the front desk. I offer no excuses. We had the policies in place, but they were not followed.' She looked at Doris. 'I can't tell any more, I wasn't there.'

Doris patted Chelsea's hand. 'I was there. I will never understand them, but I was there. I was coming out to the front desk. Apparently, the guard had already opened the door and there was no one at the security desk, so I didn't know the door was unlocked. I was thinking about Brother Johann's plan to try using the high school history classes to each sort a box of loose papers from the overflow storage.' She took a deep breath. 'I had my head down, and had just reached the front desk when I heard the school's front door bang open. Moments later, the library door burst open and that . . .' Doris hesitated. '. . . that person ran in carrying a bag. The bag was oil stained, and he was shouting. I'm still not sure what he was shouting. I'm honestly not certain of the language, but the hate seemed clear enough. It's the first time I've had to do this, the guards are supposed to check every bag and box that comes into the library, but I really didn't doubt that I was right. He sort of spun back as though he was going to fling the bag into the stacks. So, I pulled the front-desk gun and shot him.'

Doris looked down, then she looked up and around the room. 'The bag fell back and I grabbed it and threw it out the door toward the front doors. It burst into flames when it hit, so I knew I was right, but I will never, ever, understand why these people want to burn us out. They come from all over, you know. They seem to think that burning the library will undo us being here. You can't burn ideas. Are they stupid?'

Chelsea took over. 'After the first shot, three guards and two librarians responded. The invader was down, and the high school staff responded to the fire at the front door. It was out within two minutes, from the ready hoses. We have no information on who the arsonist was. He had no documents on him at all, and Doris had put three hollow points, center of mass. After that, it was the usual clean up.'

Simon Jones spoke, 'Chelsea, how many does that make now?'

'Five we've had to shoot in the last four years. The security guards capture a bomb or flammables about once a month through the regular checks. The walk-around finds someone trying to break into the school or something occasionally,' Chelsea said. 'It's a much harder job than I expected when I took it.'

Doris spoke, sounding tired. 'Being a librarian in Grantville is sure different now. Who would have thought that librarian certification required monthly range time?'

The group spent a half-hour asking questions, double-checking the procedures and considering what could be done differently. Despite the trouble it caused, the conclusion the group reached was to fall back to the 'missile silo paradigm' and to require two keys to open the library's front door, each passed hand-to-hand from one duty guard to the next, so that no one could ever open the library alone again. Several people noted that in both the library and the coffee shop cases, the problem could be prevented by a change in procedure. The final conclusion was that once again the checklist stands as one of the most useful tools against the imp of the perverse.

John Grover stood. 'Doris, the Grantville Society of Saint Philip of the Screwdriver offers you our formal thanks. You are welcome here any time, even if you haven't shot an idiot. Cora, thank you, too. Your participation will help prevent other workers from being hurt or even killed by small boilers again. And so, for both of you, I have our thanks, and this talisman . . .' John handed each of the women a small, yellow-handled phillips screwdriver. 'In the hopes that it will help you to keep Murphy's imp before you, and joy and humor in your hearts.'

The room echoed with, 'Amen.'

A man in overalls opened a bag by his seat and removed two jars and a paint brush, then went to the last banner. Soon it sported two more imps crushed under the cross of Saint Philip's Screwdriver.

Some time later, after everyone else was gone, Nick looked around the room, knowing that the catering staff from the Gardens would soon have the tables down and the room cleared. He stared up into the eyes of the image of Saint Philip. 'Of course, I buy the beer. I can't think of anything better to do with the money.' He removed his rosary from his belt, and left the parish hall, heading for the church. 'But I'm still a priest.'

****

Equal Rights, Part Two

Jack Carroll and Edith Wild

The Thuringen Gardens

Yakov Chekhov was mopping up a spilled drink when the crowd suddenly went quiet, and heads started turning toward the television behind the bar. He began to make out the announcer's words, and then saw the pictures.

Satan's balls! That's her! If they catch one of those English pricks, they'll get the other one, and they'll both talk! Could be any minute!

He shoved the mop and bucket into the janitor's closet, slipped out through the kitchen, and around to the street.

He took a fast look around without turning his head-no police in sight, and the next tram to Schwarza was only half a block away. He jumped aboard with nothing but the clothes on his back and the cash in his pocket. At the end of the line he started walking. Once clear of the town, he got off the roads and headed for Saxony.

One thing was for certain, the next nom de guerre he picked wouldn't be anything like the last one, it wouldn't even be Russian.

July 11, the second day

At two in the morning the call came in by CB that the Garbage Guys had spotted Olivia Villareal's pickup truck in the bushes off a dirt lane near the in-town end of Murphy's Run. It was Marvin Tipton's shift to coordinate the search, and he rousted Officer Erika Fleischer out of bed to bring Pluto to the scene. Pluto couldn't catch a scent of Olivia outside the truck. He picked up something, but couldn't follow it far; he wasn't a tracker. Marvin asked a mounted volunteer to ride out to the count's stables, to see if the jaegers there had a dog that could help. Meanwhile, he phoned over to Leanna's place, to ask Carlos to come look at the truck and see if he could see anything that didn't belong.

****

Olivia woke up freezing in what could only be the middle of the night, and managed to sit up, still sore as hell. The lamp was lit. By its light she could see a bowl of bloody water beside the mat.