The Door to December

boomed:
     'IT!'
     'COMING!'
     'HIDE!'
     'COMING!'
     The disconnected words exploding from the Sony were impossibly loud, delivered with considerably more volume than the speakers were capable of providing. Thunderous, volcanic. Wall-shaking. The speakers should have disintegrated or burned out as those tremendous bursts of sound smashed through them, but they continued to function. The radio vibrated against the counter.
     'LOOSE!'
     'COMING!'
     Each word crashed through Laura and seemed to pulverize more of her self-control. Panic and fear surged through her. The kitchen lights pulsed, dimmed. At the same time, the green glow that illuminated the radio dial became brighter, unnaturally bright, as if the Sony had acquired both a consciousness and a greedy thirst for electricity, as if it were drawing off all available power for itself. But that didn't make sense, because regardless of how much power the radio received, the dial was still equipped with a low-wattage bulb that couldn't produce this brilliant glow. Yet it did. As the ceiling lights grew dimmer still, dazzling emerald beams sprayed out through the Plexiglas panel on the front of the radio, painting Earl Benton's face, glinting off the chrome on the stove and refrigerator, imparting to the air a rippling murkiness: The room seemed to be underwater.
     '... RIPPING ...'
     '... APART ...'
     The air was freezing.
     '... TEARING ...'
     '... APART ...'
     Laura didn't understand that portion of the message — unless it was a threat of physical violence.
     The Sony was vibrating faster than the stones in a rattlesnake's rattle. Soon it would be bouncing across the counter.
     '... SPLITTING ... IN ... TWO ...'
    * * *
    Dan said, 'If I go public, Ted Gearvy probably will too. And maybe there's even someone else out there who's seen you at your worst, Ross. Maybe they'll come forward when we do. Maybe they'll have a conscience too.'
     Judging by the expression on Mondale's face, there evidently was someone else who could blow his career out of the water. He was no longer smug when he said, 'One cop never rats on another, damn it!'
     'Nonsense. If one of us is a killer, we don't protect him.'
     'I'm no killer,' Mondale said.
     'If one of us is a thief, we don't protect him.'
     'I've never stolen a goddamned dime.'
     'And if one of us is a coward who wants to be chief, we have to stop protecting him too, before he gets into the front office and plays fast and loose with other men's lives, the way some cowards do when they get enough power to be above the fight themselves.'
     'You take the goddamned cake! You're the snottiest, most self-satisfied son of a bitch I've ever seen.'
     'Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment.'
     'You know the code. It's us against them.'
     'Why, for heaven's sake, Ross, just a minute ago, you told me it was always every man for himself.'
     Irrationally trying to separate his own conduct at the Lakey house from the code of honor that he now so strenuously professed to embrace, Mondale could do no more than repeat himself: 'It's us against them, damn it!'
     Dan nodded. 'Yes, but when I say "us," I don't include you. You and I can't possibly belong to the same species.'
     'You'll destroy your own career,' Mondale said.
     'Maybe.'
     'Definitely. The Internal Affairs Division is gonna want to know why the hell you covered up this so-called dereliction of duty.'
     'Misguided allegiance to another man in uniform.'
     'That won't be good enough.'
     'We'll see.'
     'They'll have your ass for breakfast.'
     Dan said, 'You're the one who actively screwed up. My moral irresponsibility was a passive act, passive sin. They might suspend me for that, reprimand me. But they're not going to throw me off the force because of it.'
     'Maybe not. But you'll never get another promotion.'
     Dan shrugged. 'Doesn't matter. I've gone as far as I really care to. Ambition doesn't rule me, Ross, the way it does you.'
     'But ... no one'll trust you after you've done a thing like this.'
     'Sure they will.'
     'No, no. Not after you've ratted on another cop.'
     'If the cop was anyone but you, that might be true.'
     Mondale