The Kiwi Target

head struck first; her knees unlocked, and she slid to the floor.
    Constable Harkness was walking down the rearmost aisle when he sensed an abrupt change in the atmosphere of the store. It was too quiet. Then there was a hard crash, as though someone had taken a severe fall. He began to run to the front of the store as a piercing half-scream was abruptly cut off.
    As the register area came into his view a swift burst of new energy filled his body, and although the hold-up man was big, that made no difference to him at all. “Halt!” he yelled, and lunged.
    On the check-out counter there were three of the stiff rubber sticks used to mark the spaces between orders. The bandit seized one of them and whipped it through the air. It caught Harkness on the side of his jaw and neck and sank into the flesh with deadly force. Harkness went down; the can of peaches he had been holding in his right hand slipped from his fingers.
    The robber paid him no more attention. With swift movements he filled a paper bag with the money in the register. He dumped the coin drawer into it and then grabbed the larger bills that had been out of sight underneath. The woman who had been checking out started to cry for help; with a half-sneer he threw her aside so viciously, she slid almost five feet toward the first of the display counters.
    Ignoring the swimming pain in his head, Harkness tried to get to his feet: he was down but not out. The robber grabbed the paper sack of money and vaulted the counter, coming toward Harkness with two swift strides. As he shifted his weight onto his left foot, Harkness knew that a viciously hard, focused kick was coming. He stayed bent over, seized the can of peaches, and flung it with all the force he could muster directly into the bandit’s face.
    It failed to stop him. The woman shopper who had been thrown to the floor was back on her feet seconds after the robber had run out of the door. She quickly found the telephone behind the counter and dialed the emergency number. As soon as it was answered, she began to tell what had happened.
    The officer in the communications room cut her off to ask the exact location. As soon as she gave him the name of the market, he whirled and shouted just loud enough to be heard clearly by the other three men on duty in the room, “Strong-arm robbery; constable down.” He gave the location, then went back to the caller.
    “We’re coming, ma’am,” he said. “Please tell me the rest.”
    The courageous woman was still giving him the details when the first back-up unit arrived at the scene. By the time a doctor arrived at the market, three more constables were on hand. Less than two minutes later, the inspector in command of the shift came to take personal charge. An ambulance was in front of the door, waiting for the doctor’s instructions.
    The check-out girl was the worst hurt; the doctor was giving her his full attention. Meanwhile the ambulance attendants were doing what they could for Constable Harkness and for the lady who had been thrown to the floor. The inspector took quick statements from the officers on hand. He wanted very much to talk to Harkness, but being a compassionate man, he waited until the doctor could attend him first.
    The other witness, a Mrs. Enid Wilks, seemed so upset by the police presence that she was hardly able to talk. Unknown to the inspector, she still had the incriminating packet of soup mix in her purse, and with all of the policemen about, there was no chance at all for her to get rid of it. The constable who tried to take her statement was gentle with her and most considerate, but all he could elicit was a complete denial that she had seen anything at all. Despite her age, the constable refused to believe that, but the more he tried to win her over, the more terrified she seemed to become.
    The doctor called the ambulance attendants and had them take the girl clerk away. He had done his best to stabilize her, but he needed some skull X-rays before he could proceed further.
    As soon as she had been loaded onto a gurney, he turned to Constable Harkness. There was already a bad swelling on his neck. He sat with his back propped up against the end of a display counter, holding his side in obvious agony. The inspector evaluated his condition and used the land-line telephone to summon another ambulance. It was urgent that Constable Harkness tell what he knew of the robbery, but the doctor waved the policeman away. “He’s in too