Terminal

I could see on his face that he really didn’t know, and that he never would. Sherm would never understand. How could you explain love to a guy like Sherm? Remember when I said that all the women wanted to fix him because he was broken, but that he didn’t want to be fixed? Well, this was part of it.

“You— you want to tell me why it was so dumb?”

His voice remained flat and emotionless.

“Because now they know, Tommy. Now they fucking know. They know that there’s only the three of us. They know that Carpet Dick is wounded. They know our names, our backgrounds, our . . . They know everything. It gives them a leg up on us. Gives them leverage. We’re fucked.”

“I’m sorry, Sherm. I was just sick of lying to her, man. I’m fucking sorry.”

“I know”— he shrugged—“but that doesn’t exactly help matters now, does it?”

“No, I guess it doesn’t.”

We sat in silence for a moment, then I tried again.

“What was the deal with those cities the negotiator read off to you? Tampa and San Francisco and shit? What was that about?”

“Nothing. Everything. Like I said, now they know. But that ain’t important right now. You still got the cell phone?”

“Yeah. It’s in my pocket.”

“Good. Give it to me.”

He held his free hand out to me. The other one remained on the gun. I fumbled in my pocket and pulled it out. My hands were slick with sweat.

“Thanks.” He studied it carefully. “Nice phone. One of those expensive kinds.”

With a sudden burst of rage, he threw it across the room. It smashed into the wall and fell to the floor, the casing cracked. I flinched, but managed to keep from jumping in my seat.

“I just want to know one thing, Tommy.”

“W-what?”

“Was it worth it? Talking to Michelle? Hearing her voice? Was it fucking worth it?”

I didn’t hesitate, but my voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

“Yeah. Yeah, Sherm, it was.”

“Okay then.”

He lifted his head, looked me in the eye and grinned.

“W-what now?”

His grin got wider.

“They’ll probably try to do some surveillance, see if they can verify the situation. Might try to get a camera inside, maybe one of those little robotic units or a pole scope or something. We’ve got fifteen minutes left. After that, all bets are off.”

“So what do we do?”

His demeanor changed again. Once more, his tone was light and friendly— just my buddy Sherm, who’d never pointed a gun at me in his life and who didn’t have a secret past that I knew nothing about.

“We go with my plan, dog. We have some fun. You still thirsty?”

“Uh, sure. Yeah, I could use a drink.”

“I’ll go get you one of those sodas, do a quick check, and make sure everything’s secure; and then we’ll start.”

“Start what?”

“The party, man. Let’s get this party started.”

With a wink, he grabbed his pistol and hopped off the desk. Turning his back to me, he walked out of the office and turned left down the hall.

Fifteen minutes. But if Sherm found out about Benjy or John or any of the other stuff, the shit could hit the fan long before then.

The dead cop’s .38 stared up at me with that one good eye.

I picked it up, tucked it underneath my shirt, and hurried for the vault.

SIXTEEN

John was sitting up and staring at Benjy in wide-eyed amazement. Both of them smiled at me as I rushed in. The others looked tense, except for Martha, who had her eyes tightly shut and her head bowed in prayer. I wondered what I’d missed. Things had changed, however subtly. Something was going on, something more than John’s miraculous recovery. I figured they must have overheard Sherm’s and my conversation.

John was breathless. “Tommy! Holy shit, you’re never gonna believe what’s happened. It’s incredible.”

“I know all about it,” I said, trying to quiet him. “But we got more important things to worry about right now.”

I had their attention.

“Listen up, all of you. Sherm’s going to be back here any second now. The cops know who we are. They know that it’s just the three of us holding you. My— my wife called them, after I talked to her.”

“Michelle?” John gasped. “She ratted us out?”

“She didn’t mean to, dog. She was just worried. Anyway, Sherm’s not acting real steady right now. He says that he’s going to surrender and let you guys go, but I don’t know if he means it. I’ve made up my mind— I’m going to get you out of here, but I need to find a way to talk to the cops and let them know I want to surrender. Any ideas?”

“I could fake another heart attack,” Roy suggested, glancing uneasily at the others, especially Dugan. At the time, I chalked it up to stress. Had I known . . .

“No.” I shook my head. “That won’t work. Sherm would probably just let you die in here. I found out that he didn’t ask for an ambulance for John, so I can’t see him getting one for you.”

Benjy slid backward, wiping John’s blood on his pants.

“Shit, I almost forgot. Benjy, come here. I need to tie your hands up again.”

Without a word, Benjy scurried back over to his mother.

“Come on, Benjy, don’t do this. You know I’m not gonna hurt you, buddy.” I looked around.

“Where the hell is the duct tape?”