Silent Prey

into the telephone. She picked it up on the second ring. “I’m at Lacey’s place . . . .”
    “How’d you get . . . ?”
    “I lied. And the Robin Hoods just walked in, we’re watching them across the street. So it’s O’Dell . . . .”
    “Can’t be. He hasn’t touched a phone.”
    “What?”
    “I’m with him now. In his office.”
    “Shit . . .”
    Across the street, the Robin Hoods had turned and had started back toward Lacey’s. One drew a pistol while the other dropped a long-handled sledge from beneath his jacket.
    “Get me backup . . .” Lucas said. “Jesus—they’re going in. Get me backup now. ”
    Lucas dropped the phone back on the hook. “Let’s go,” he said. “Get on my arm, really drag on it, like we had a few too many.”
    They went out the door and Lucas, hat tipped down, wrapped an arm around Fell’s shoulder and put his face close to hers. The two cops paused just before they passed the windows in front of Lacey’s, looked around one more time, saw Lucas and Fell fifty feet away. Lucas pushed Fell into a building front with one hip, groped at a breast with his free hand. She pushed him away, and the two cops went to the door.
    They were running now.
    The cop with the hammer stopped, pivoted, swinging his hip like a golfer. Backswing and drive, the hammer flashing overhead.
    The hammerhead hit the door just at the handle and it exploded inward, glass breaking, wood splintering.
    The cop with the gun and the cast went through; the other dropped the hammer and drew his pistol. Then he went in, crouched, focused, straight ahead.
    “Go,” said Lucas. His .45 was in his hand, and he was at the door in three seconds. Through the door. The twocops were inside, their pistols pointing up an open stairway, and Lucas dropped in the doorway, screaming, “Police, freeze.”
    “We’re cops, we’re cops . . . .” The cop nearest Lucas kept his gun pointed at the stairs.
    “Drop the piece, drop, drop it, God damn it, or I’ll blow your fuckin’ ass off, drop it . . . .”
    “We’re cops, you asshole . . . .” The heavyset cop was half turned toward him, his gun still pointed up the stairs. The pistol was black with a smooth, plastic look about it, a high-capacity Glock 9mm. This guy wasn’t using the issue crap from the department.
    “Drop it . . .”
    Fell came in behind, her gun out, searching for a target, Lucas feeling the black barrel of the cut-off Colt .38 next to his ear.
    “Drop it,” Lucas screamed again.
    The slat-thin cop, who was closest to the door, dropped his weapon, and Lucas focused on the other, who was still looking uncertainly up the stairs. The disarmed cop said, “Jesus, you asshole, we’re plainclothes for Bekker . . . .”
    Lucas ignored him, focused on the other gun: “Said drop the fuckin’ weapon, jerkweed; you assholes beat the shit out of me, and I’m not in the mood to argue. I’ll fuckin’ pull the trigger on you right now . . . .”
    The cop stooped and laid his gun on the floor, glanced at his partner. “Listen . . .”
    “Shut up.” Lucas looked at Fell. “Keep your gun up, Bekker’s here somewhere.”
    “Lucas, Jesus . . .” Fell said, but she kept the gun up.
    Lucas motioned the two cops to a steam radiator, tossed them a set of handcuffs. “I want to hear them click,” he said.
    “You motherfucker, I oughta fuckin’ pull your face off,” the heavy one said.
    “I’d kill you if you tried,” Lucas said simply. “Cuffs.”
    “Motherfucker . . .” But the two cuffed themselves to the radiator pipe. Lucas looked up the stairs.
    “Now what?” asked Fell.
    “Backup’s on the way, should be here.” He kept the .45 pointed at the chained cops.
    “You’re fuckin’ up,” said the thick cop.
    “Tell that to O’Dell,” Lucas said.
    “What?” the cop said. He frowned, puzzled.
    Lucas shifted around behind him, his .45 pointed at the guy’s ear. “I’m going for your ID, don’t fuckin’ move . . . .” He slipped his hand inside the cop’s coat pocket and came out with a badge case. “Now you,” he said to the other one.
    When he had both IDs, he stepped back and flipped them open. “Clemson,” he said. “A sergeant, and Jeese . . .” Lucas looked at the man with the cast, Clemson, and said, “That’s what you yelled—you yelled ‘Jeese.’ You thought he left you behind, running off like that. I thought you yelled