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CRANKYBLANCA
CHAPTER NINE: "Shot Trying to Escape"
RBB [voiceover]: It was a meeting, and I hate meetings. I hate sitting there, feeling the chair digging into my back. I hate looking around the table trying to keep track of who's awake, who's bored, and who's surreptitiously doing the crossword puzzle while pretending to take notes. I hate having to keep all the balls in the air. But there it was. Crankyland's premier hangout -- Cranky's Cafe Americain -- was under siege and we had to get all the players together to try to save it and catch those behind the threat.
As I stared around the table, I tried once again to figure out just what the hell Crankyland was, and I gave it up yet again. It was a private operation, or so the presence of Jason Cranky and Hans would suggest. It was a polity with its own government -- hell, HairHead had contrived to get himself elected President of Crankyland a long time ago, and JYD had always insisted that he was its king, and if there was a government that was what was responsible for the police represented by JYD and zeppo, the D.A. represented by Roy Foltrigg, and the medical examiner represented by Rochelle. And then there was that odd way in which Crankyland was some sort of cybercommunity -- hence people like Philm Phan, Wulfgar, Princess, and yours truly.
It made my head hurt to think about it, so I decided to stop thinking about it. I adjourned the meeting, and people got up and started kibitzing in small groups. I moved from group to group, exchanging a word here and a handshake there and realizing that it all added up to nothing. We had a few leads, but nothing more, and meanwhile our killer was free to kill again. I had had Hans and Jason redouble security at Cranky's, but I didn't think it would do any good. Meanwhile, Doc Rochelle was talking on the phone and looking grim.
RBB: What's up, Doc?
DOC ROCHELLE: You wascally wabbit, this business is killing me; I could use a stiff drink.
RBB: Right. What's up?
DOC ROCHELLE: I got confirmation from the lab. The fingerprints don't match. It's not Bulworth; it seems to be Fisty McGee, as you said.
JYD: What was that?
RBB: It was McGee, not Bulworth. If I were you...
JYD: But you're not me, and don't make cracks about your mirrors being grateful.
DOC ROCHELLE: Cracks? Your pun causes me pane.
RBB: I was saying, if I were you, I'd put out an APB on Bulworth right now.
JYD: Already done.
RBB [voiceover]: I thanked them and moved on. Princess saw my face. She walked over, took me by the arm, and steered me into a corner.
PRINCESS OF PMS: Richard, what's wrong?
RBB: This case is what's wrong. He has us over a barrel, and he'll keep knocking people off till he's done.
PRINCESS OF PMS: You know that if he keeps killing he won't stop.
RBB: Tell me more.
PRINCESS OF PMS: It's something we researched a year or so ago. Killers keep killing, and they increase their liking for it, their sense of power with each person they kill. It becomes addictive.
RBB: So he won't stop even after killing twelve?
PRINCESS OF PMS: Probably not. He may think so now, he may think the killings are just part of his plan to achieve his larger goal, but trust me -- he'll get hooked.
RBB: Where's zeppo?
PRINCESS OF PMS: He went out to round up the usual suspects.
RBB: I see. I must admit, I'm looking forward to seeing them brought in.
PRINCESS OF PMS: Maybe. I have a bad feeling, Richard.
RBB: Why?
PRINCESS OF PMS: You get them too, right? Well, now it's my turn.
RBB [voiceover]: I nodded and squeezed her shoulder. She had a point.
The meeting was showing signs of breaking up anyway. Hans was on the phone to Badtz Maru, who agreed to come in the next day and pitch in trying to decipher the cyberghost that Hans had found. I took the phone for a few minutes. Badtz Maru used to be a troll; then he showed two talents nobody expected -- a thoroughly professional aptitude for computer issues and an equally professional, though slightly creepy, gift for writing and story-telling. I was pleased; he had gone from being a pain in the butt to becoming one of Crankyland's success stories. And he did it all himself.
The place was starting to look the way my old coffee shop used to look when the A.A. chapter invaded after its morning meeting. So I slammed my fist on the table a few times to get people's attention and adjourned the meeting for keeps. People started heading to the exit, and it was at that moment that all hell broke loose.
I heard it almost without realizing what I heard. It sounded like a cross between a string of firecrackers and a buzz saw. Then I heard screams and the sound of breaking glass, and I dragged Princess down to the floor and shielded her from whatever was coming through the facade of the Cafe. I'd done this once before, in a sidewalk cafe in New York City back in the Namagomi-chan case. Then I'd saved the woman's life; of course, it turned out not to be for keeps, but I tried not to think about that.
It went on and on, and I was beginning to think that whatever it was might cut right through the support structure of the entire building and bring it down on top of us. But then, without warning, it stopped. I heard the squeal of protesting tires as someone gunned an engine, the roar of a powerful automobile rocketing away and then shrieking as it turned a tight corner, and then the low growl of its motor dying away, like a Siberian tiger that was leaving an eaten kill in search of fresher game.
Muffled weeping came from the front room of the cafe, along with moans and the sound of glass falling to the floor and tables and chairs being righted. I cautiously stood up, half-noticing that Princess had also gotten off the floor. I felt her hand brushing glass from my hair and then timidly touching my forehead. I touched it in the same place and found traces of blood on my fingertips. Damn. I hated that.
RBB: Check everybody out. I want to hope we all were lucky, but I don't like to put my faith in luck.
RBB [voiceover]: It was an unholy mess. Philm Phan and the two cops were unhurt. Doc Rochelle looked a bit woozy from having been thrown down too hard, but otherwise was undamaged. HairHead had stopped a slug with his shoulder; he was swearing, white-faced, between gritted teeth as Wulfgar dressed the wound. The big Scot himself was bleeding from a few cuts on his head, but was otherwise undamaged. Roy was lying all too still, and I sprinted towards him, wincing as I heard glass crunching under my feet. He was out cold, because a light fixture had been dislodged by a bullet and conked him on the back of the skull, but he was simply unconscious -- not concussed and not otherwise in danger. A glass of water hurled into his face brought him around, spluttering and coughing.
Jason Cranky was lying there, with two bullets in him; Hans was supporting him, oblivious of the graze wound on his left temple.
RBB: JYD! Rochelle!
RBB [voiceover]: JYD had been a paramedic before he became a cop; his old training and instincts kicked in, and he shoved me aside in his efforts to deal with Jason's injuries. Doc Rochelle, once she saw someone down, snapped into full alertness and was right behind JYD, crouching down beside Jason and probing the wound with delicate fingers.
DOC ROCHELLE: They're not serious, but they're bleeding too much for my liking. Get some tablecloths or napkins.
RBB [voiceover]: Princess rushed to comply. I decided to check out the front room. It was a mess. It had been a quiet night, thanks in part to Hans's decision to close down the forums during the meeting. Only a few waiters and musicians were there, and they were mostly OK. I noticed a few with injuries from flying glass, and two down with slugs in them. Chica was tending to one, doing all the right CPR things, and I went to work on the other one. In the corner, someone -- I wasn't sure who -- was frantically dialing 911 and bellowing into a phone, demanding ambulances and paramedics and cops. Good -- that was something I wouldn't have to do. Then I heard Princess scream.
PRINCESS OF PMS: Oh, my God! Richard, come here!
RBB [voiceover]: I sprinted towards her. She was standing in the wrecked doorway of the cafe, staring out at a world of horror. Lieutenant zeppo and his uniformed squad had been hard at work rounding up the trolls, and the trolls had taken the brunt of the weapons fire. It was like the old newspaper photos I'd seen of the Saint Valentine's Day Massacre in Chicago. X-MAN was in really bad shape; he'd nearly been cut in half, but he was still twitching feebly and cursing between sobs. grundle apparently had thought that carrying both volumes of THE WEALTH OF NATIONS under his coat would protect him; it hadn't, and all he'd managed to do was to get the books torn to ribbons and himself too. He was gasping for breath. I grabbed a tablecloth from inside the cafe and rolled it into a makeshift pillow for his head, trying to make him comfortable. When I gently slid it under his head, he opened his eyes and somehow managed to focus on me.
grundle: Richard B. Bernstein?
RBB: Yes. Relax. Hang on. The ambulances are on their way.
grundle: No government ambulance. The profit motive ... will make ... medical care ... better....
RBB: I won't argue with you now.
grundle: You're a liberal ... and you don't care about anything ... but ... big government.
RBB [voiceover]: I ignored him and looked around. More bad news, more of the smell of fear and the stench of death. T-p had stopped three bullets in vital spots and they'd stopped him. Bolischoy Tavieda looked like Rasputin once Prince Yusupov and his pals had gotten done with him, but, unlike the mad monk, he wasn't still alive. Mr Wonderful was screaming for his mother, but it didn't matter; with the extent of his wounds, there was no way that his mother would have recognized him, and there was no way that he'd live till she got there. In a moment, he stopped thrashing, and died in a welter of his own blood. I felt sick, but I fought my nausea down.
Princess was picking her way through the carnage. At first, it made no sense to me, but then I heard her over the sobbing of the waiters and the moans of the trolls.
PRINCESS OF PMS: Lieutenant zeppo? Are you all right?
RBB [voiceover]: Suddenly, she stopped then ran forward. zeppo was propped up against the police wagon. He'd taken two bullets in the legs, but he was otherwise OK.
zeppo: I'll dance again, Princess, don't worry.
PRINCESS OF PMS: I'm just glad you're OK.
zeppo: Prof, are you there?
RBB: I'm with grundle. He's hanging on -- as stubborn as ever.
zeppo: We were getting the trolls together, to put them into the wagon, when X-MAN tried to make a break for it. He ran into the middle of the street, screaming and waving his hands. A minivan rolled by -- we thought that it was somehow X-MAN's escape vehicle, and we drew our weapons, but then the side door opened and someone started shooting with a MAC-10. The bastard cut X-MAN down where he stood and then swept through the other trolls. I'm amazed that I'm the only cop with bullets in me.
RBB: Amazing, all right.
RBB [voiceover]: I didn't have the heart to tell him that two uniformed officers were down, and it was not looking too good for either one. TAKFABP had one in the left lung that had just missed the heart, and Fat_Ed had been gutshot.
After what seemed like an eternity, the ambulances arrived, and in a moment the area was swarming with medics and stretcher-bearers. It was smooth and efficient, and I couldn't resist pointing those facts out to grundle. All he could do was whisper, "Unh unh, Richard, you're wrong and I'm right." Par for the course, yet much as he exasperated me, I wanted him to stay on this side of the veil separating the living from the dead.
I don't remember much about the cleanup after the shootings, and I don't want to. The next thing I remember clearly is standing there, with Princess's arm around my shoulders, as the last ambulance pulled away. I felt sick; I felt tired; and I was angry -- too damn angry for my liking. Three dead, at least three more on the critical list, and I'd lost count of those who merely had been wounded. Suddenly Chica appeared in the shattered doorway, her face pale but resolute.
CHICA: Professor? There's a telephone call for you.
RBB [voiceover]: With foreboding I trudged forward, Princess at my heels. Chica led me to the maitre d's desk. Eamon was sitting there, behind the desk, a blanket draped around his shoulders and his head down between his knees as Doc Rochelle was tending to him. He was just experiencing shock. I felt sorry for him, but banished him from my mind as I saw the receiver waiting for me to pick it up. I picked it up, my knuckles white with tension. As I fought ot master myself, I scribbled a note to Princess -- "Trace this call." She nodded and got on her cellular phone out of earshot and got to work with the phone company.
RBB [phone]: Bernstein here.
CRANKY KILLER [phone]: Ah, Professor, how good of you to answer my little call. I am aware that you were busy just now, so I waited until the worst was over.
RBB [voiceover]: It was the same damn voice.
RBB: You goddamned fucking bastard....
CRANKY KILLER [phone]: Temper, temper, Richard. We would not want to have a stroke, would we?
RBB: You cold-blooded -- do you know what you did here?
CRANKY KILLER [phone]: It was so dull at the cafe that I figured you'd want a little excitement.
RBB: At least three dead, and you call that excitement?
CRANKY KILLER [phone]: Ah, but Richard, I'm just getting started. I have great plans, you see. I am ready to bring Cranky's Cafe Americain -- indeed, all of Crankyland -- down around the arrogant ears of Jason Cranky and his excuse for a hacker, Hans.
RBB: Why, goddamnit? WHY?
CRANKY KILLER [phone]: You already know the answer, Richard. Because I can....
RBB [voiceover]: With a final demonic chuckle, he hung up. I stood there, bellowing uselessly into the receiver, till Princess gently removed it from my grip.
PRINCESS OF PMS: No good, Richard. He had it routed through at least three false leads. He's too damn good at what he does.
RBB: We have to stop him.
PRINCESS OF PMS: I know.
RBB [voiceover]: I was shaking uncontrollably and she took me in her arms. We held each other, just seeking the comfort of each other's arms as the madness of the night unfolded around us.
[...to be continued...]
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