52
Kentucky Fried, October 2016
“Isn’t that that guy who was in here?” the customer said, gesturing with his beer glass toward the small, muted TV screen on the wall behind Liza. That was one of the things she’d change if she ever took over the place. Two big TV screens instead of one small one. But only for turning on when something was happening, something that brought people together. Super Bowl, presidential elections. Stuff like that.
She turned around to look.
It was KSTP-TV with a flashing BREAKING NEWS line above the picture.
A female reporter was talking to the camera. Behind her police cars were visible, and a big military-looking vehicle with SWAT in white lettering along the side. Then Liza saw the picture of a face in the upper-right corner of the screen. With the nameunder it: Bob Oz. MPD. With a trembling hand Liza grabbed the remote and turned up the sound.
“…went inside and persuaded the hostage taker to take him in exchange for the release of Jill Patterson and the two children. Bob Oz is now in there with the hostage taker who is believed to be the owner of the store. He is Mike Lunde, a fifty-eight-year-old widower.”
“So, Shirley, you’re able to confirm that the officer involved is the same Bob Oz you met briefly two days ago at Track Plaza.”
“That’s right, Rick. But in a completely different role here. Before Jill Patterson and the children were taken away from here with the mayor she had time to say how they will be eternally grateful to Detective Oz for his courage, and that they are praying he will survive the ordeal.”
Survive.Liza’s hands went to her mouth. She took deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. Breathe. And then she did something she hadn’t done for so long she couldn’t even remember when the last time was. She prayed.God, let him survive. I don’t ever have to see him again if that’s what you want in return. But dear God, don’t let him die.
—
Kay Myers ran crouching past the police cars outside the taxidermist’s store and didn’t straighten up until she was behind the big SWAT vehicle where Walker was standing. A few feet away Springer and O’Rourke seemed to be in the middle of a heated discussion.
“What’s going on?” Kay asked, panting to get her breath back.
“Springer wants SWAT to take Lunde out,” said Walker. “O’Rourke says that’ll put Oz’s life in danger.”
Kay turned toward the two men.
“No!” she screeched.
They stopped their discussion and turned to look at her.
“No, you mustn’t try to take Lunde out.”
“Thanks but we can get along without any interference from you, Myers,” Springer snorted. At least he remembered the “s” in her name this time.
“Shut up and listen,” said Kay. “Oz and Lunde know each other.”
“Kay, don’t…” Walker began—but it was too late to stop her and they both knew it.
“Lunde won’t kill Oz,” said Kay. “But you, Springer, you idiot, you just might do that.”
With a half laugh Springer shook his head. “According to our information Detective Oz is an unstable, alcoholic police officer who has been suspended for disobeying orders and is responsible for putting himself in this current situation. He has risked the lives of three innocent civilians, he’s no hero, he just wants to look like one. That’s understandable, given the fucked-up state of his own life. You say he and Lunde are friends, maybe that’s why he keeps sabotaging SWAT’s snipers by blocking their line of fire.”
Kay noticed the saliva spray from her own mouth and how some of it landed on Springer’s pin-striped jacket as she answered: “But can’t you get it through your thick head that Bob Oz is in a position to get Mike Lunde to hand himself over?”
“Superintendent, we don’t have time for this,” said Springer. “Can you talk to this Fury?”
Kay waited to feel Walker’s big hand land on her shoulder. But she didn’t. When she turned she saw Walker was looking directly at Springer.
“Why?” said Walker. “Sounds to me like she has a point.”
Springer glanced at O’Rourke as though looking for support.
“I don’t know who it was gave Bob Oz his nickname Kentucky Fried,” said O’Rourke. “All I know is Bob Oz just went inthere unarmed and got three hostages released. And I’m not willing to risk the life of a man like that. Not as long as only those two in there are in danger.”
“Let me give you the short version,” said Springer with a deep sigh, as though he were dealing with dull-witted children. “I’ve talked to my bosses and they tell me Lunde is someone who has murdered one decent citizen, Cody Karlstad, tried to kill one of Patterson’s bodyguards, and in the process traumatized Patterson’s family. Like any other terrorist, Lunde’s wet dream is to commit these evil deeds and get himself arrested so that every microphone in the media gets pushed into his face so he can broadcast his sick, political message to the nation. Now that is not necessarily something we want. Got that?”
