Calmly, he clubbed Bulldog in the head with the gun and got to his feet. “Knock that gat away from you,” Henson commanded Davis.
He hesitated, but knew from his fetal position on the floor, he couldn’t bring his body around to shoot Henson before the explorer pumped slugs into him. Davis swept his hand, skidding the revolver across the floorboards.
“You better get his neck stitched close or he surely dies,” Henson warned Bulldog.
The taller man held a hand to his neck, blood soaking his upper shirt. Pleadingly, he glared at his partner.
“You’re gonna swing for this, Henson,” Bulldog promised.
“We’ll see.”
Davis removed a shard of porcelain stuck in his cheek, momentarily examining the piece with a disinterested air. Otherwise he remained still.
“Don’ worry, I’ll take care of your boss,” Henson said. “Skedaddle.”
Having no choice, Bulldog got his arm under his partner to support him and started toward the door. But as he did so, he shoved the wounded Jeff at Henson, which caused him to try and duck. He wasn’t successful and the two went over.
“Goddamn slippery nigra,” Bulldog hollered, jumping on Henson. The two grappled. Jeff groaned on the floor. Davis ran out the door to the hallway, then down to the street.
Henson leveraged a knee into Bulldog’s chest and, moving his head sideways, took a glancing blow on his jaw from the government man. He swatted him again several times about the head with the business end of the gun. He sagged, and Henson got him off and was on his feet. Henson closed the door, keeping his gun on Bulldog who sat up on the floor. Blood clotted his hair.
“He’s right, you’ll hang for this, Henson.” Jeff rolled onto his back.
“Yeah? You think the other members of this council will reward you for trying to sneak one past them? Trying to make a naked grab for a thing they feel entitled to ‘cause they were born with silver spoons in their mouths?”
Bulldog glared at him. “You gonna bore us to death with a lecture?”
Henson knew that even though this was an underhanded operation, to linger here was not in his best interest. Bulldog or Jeff could concoct any kind of story that would bring G-men or cops down on him with a vengeance once he got Jeff to the hospital. He was desirous of sweating this chump to find out what Davis was up to, and he best be quick about it.
“How come Davis has a bee in his bonnet to get the rock now? Keep in mind, you sonofabitch, the longer you take to come across, the less chance your partner has of staying alive.”
Jeff murmured. “We’re not sure. But we know a few years ago, Davis was a backer of Tesla. The egghead is always going on about his ideas in articles and what not. Anyways, Davis got a hold of some kind of blueprint Tesla had tried to sell the War Department.” He looked over at Bulldog who also spoke.
“From what we’ve pieced together, Davis had his own white coats working on this blueprint for some time. Apparently he’s ready to test this thing.”
Henson understood it had to be Tesla’s damn electro ray device. With the Daughter who knew how many thousands of those could be powered?
“Get the fuck out of here,” he growled.
The two left Henson standing in the middle of the room. For the first time in a long time, cold worked its way through his body.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Officer Cole Rodgers stepped out of the Rexall drugstore carrying a grocery bag of several items, including a tub of Vaseline and hairpins. He was proud to be able to provide for his two ladies. He was in civilian clothes, and had treated himself to an egg crème at the soda fountain. On he walked, happy to have the day—or at least part of it—off. He had to report in for the swing shift later, but for now he had his apartment to himself. Cora and her sister had taken Irene shopping. She’d told him with a kiss that, as long as he left the windows open, he could smoke a cigar while he listened to music, or whatever he wanted to do to relax.
Crossing the street at an angle, he approached his building. He shifted the bag to his other hand and dug his keys out of his pocket. He got the door open and stepped inside the cool and inviting foyer. Heading toward the stairs, there was a stir in his peripheral vision and, turning, a man with a handkerchief tied over the lower half of his face was there, a .45 pointed at his head. He’d left his own upstairs atop his uniform.
“It’s Kingdom Come time, cop,” announced the man.
Rodgers instinctively closed his eyes, wishing he could see his wife and child one more time, if only to say his goodbyes. There was a loud retort as he prayed there was an afterlife. When he didn’t feel a burning sensation or a breeze blowing through the hole in his face, he opened his eyes.
“Matt?”
“Hey, Cole,” Matthew Henson said, a length of pipe in his hand. The
