Sudden Prey

the combination dial on the middle safe, but Martin stopped him, made him recite the combination, and ordered Sandy to open it. He pressed his pistol to the back of the man’s neck: “If anything happens—if there’s a bang or a siren, or a phone line, you’ll be dead.”
    “There’s nothing,” Frank said.
    Martin said to LaChaise, “He’s probably got a hand piece stashed behind something down here, where he can get it quick. Keep your gun pointed at him.” And to Frank, he said, “I’m sorry about this, but you know what our problem is.”
    Sandy finished the combination, grasped the handle on the safe, turned her head away and tugged. The safe door opened easily; Martin said, “All right.” Sandy almost didn’t hear him: she’d seen the obsolete black dial telephone on the gun bench.
    “You got him?” Martin asked LaChaise.
    LaChaise moved a little sideways to Frank, and kept the gun pointed at his ear. Martin brushed past Sandy, reached into the safe and took out an AR-15. “All right,” he said, finding the custom selector switch. He quickly field-stripped it, found nothing wrong, put it together. There were three guns in the safe, and two dozen boxes of ammo. Martin took it all, stuffing the ammo boxes in his coat pockets until they were full, handing the rest to Sandy.
    “And the vests,” Martin said.
    “Over in the corner closet,” Frank said.
    Martin walked across the basement to a closet with a sliding door, pushed it back, found a row of Kevlar vests in plastic sacks. He selected two of them, then glanced at Sandy, and took a third.
    “I’m really sorry about this,” Martin said. He handed the vests to Sandy, put his gun on Frank and prodded him toward the stairs. LaChaise went up ahead of them, so they could keep the white-haired man covered around corners.
    Sandy fumbled one of the boxes of ammo, then another one. They hit the floor, and shells spewed out. “Oh, shit,” she said.
    “Goddamnit,” Martin growled. “Get those . . .”
    Sandy stooped, and began picking up the cartridges, stuffing them into her pockets, as the men climbed the stairs.
    When they reached the top, and had started down the hall, Sandy darted to the telephone and dialed 911. The operator answered a second later, and she said, “This is Sandy Darling calling for Chief Davenport. We’re here buying guns. They’re gonna attack someplace. I’ll leave the phone off the hook and try to keep them here . . .”
    She placed the phone sideways across the top of the receiver and hurried up the stairs after LaChaise and Martin.

20
    LUCAS AND DEL were waking up with day-old Danish and plastic foam cups of fake cappuccino when Dispatch called.
    “Woman called for you and identified herself as Sandy Darling,” the dispatcher said without preamble, excitement under her steady voice. “Said they were buying guns and they’re gonna attack something, but she didn’t say what or when. She left the phone off the hook. We’ve got Minnetonka started that way, but they’ve got almost nobody around: it’ll be a few minutes.”
    “Well, Jesus . . .” Lucas jumped up and grabbed his coat as he spoke into the phone: “How long ago did she call?”
    “Thirty-five seconds.”
    “Warn Minnetonka about the guns. Don’t let some guy be a hero, just seal off the streets around the address and bring in a team, or whatever they do out there . . . If they need aid, get Lester and see if we can ship some of our ERU guys out, or maybe Hennepin County guys.”
    “Marie is doing that now, most of it. Are you going?”
    “Yeah. Gimme the address . . .”
    He scribbled it down and said, “Direct us in there: we’ll be on the air in one minute.”
    He slammed the phone down and Del said, “What?” and Lucas said, “Darling called. She said they’re buying guns and she left the phone off the hook.” They were already running down the hallway.
     
     
     
    LA CHAISE AND MARTIN had rolled the rifles under their coats, and when Sandy came up from the basement, Martin asked, “Get it all?”
    “I got most of it,” she said, rattling the shells in her pockets. She felt herself flushing, and thought, Oh my God; Martin would figure it out. She said, “There’s a lot more ammo down there. I think we missed most of it . . .”
    “Forget it,” Martin said. He turned away and said to Frank, “Here.” He handed the white-haired man a wad of cash.
    “This is not exactly a purchase,” Frank said, tightly.
    “Take the