“I’m sorry?”
“You’re under suspension, Oz, only serving police officers are allowed on the scene. Get out of here. Now.”
“Listen, I’m starting to understand Tomás Gomez. He knows what he’s doing.”
O’Rourke looked over Bob’s shoulder, pointed at Bob and made a signal.
“Listen to me, O’Rourke. Gomez has a plan. He has to be takennow!”
O’Rourke licked his lips. “That will be all, thank you, Oz.”
He felt a heavy hand on each shoulder. Turned. Two sturdy uniformed officers were standing behind him.
“Come on, Detective, we’ve got orders to escort you out of here.”
Bob looked past them, saw Hanson standing a few yards behind with a mocking grin on his lips. Felt that rushing start up. Saw Kay spread her arms in exasperation. Told himself he mustn’t lose control. Not now.
“I’m leaving,” said Bob, and tried to push away the hands clutching his shoulders.
They stayed where they were, just as heavy.
“We’ll escort you,” one of the two said curtly. Bob guessed by the looks on their faces that they weren’t interested in discussing it. He bunched and then opened both his hands. Breathed regularly and counted.
“Take him now,” Bob managed to say in a low voice to O’Rourke before one of the two uniforms dragged him almost off-balance and he was led from the scene.
“There’s no need to hold me,” Bob said as they crossed the skyway to the neighboring building.
Still they kept hold of him, one on each arm.
Think before you speak, think before you act. Tell yourself you can control your anger.
They didn’t let go of him until they reached the other side, and Bob realized that he’d managed it. He really had surprised himself by proving that he didn’thaveto go berserk every time. It was just a pity there was no one he could share it with.
What looked like people from a TV news team came hurrying in their direction. In the lead was a female reporter holding a microphone, with two men behind her, one carrying a camera with KSTP-TV on it. They disappeared onto the skyway leading to the Track Plaza building.
“We’ve got orders to arrest you if you try to come back,” one of the officers said. “Got that?”
“Got it,” said Bob, who was trying to keep track of where the reporter had gone.
The two officers left, and Bob pulled down the sleeves of his cashmere coat and straightened his tie as he looked around. Met a couple of curious stares but did his best to ignore them. Dignity—what the hell does a man need with dignity? This was obviously the floor for places to eat. And drink. Directly in front of him was a flashy sports bar with giant screens all showing the same baseball game. He had a quick think. Then he took out a loop from his coat pocket, took out the ID card, fastened it to the loop and hung it around his neck.
“What’ll it be, sir?” said the bartender as Bob approached the counter.
“Switch to KSTP,” he said.
The bartender laughed. “Fat chance.Can’t you see the Timberwolves are playing?”
“Fat chance? Can’t you see this card? It means you do what I damn well tell you to do.”
The bartender peered at the ID. Shrugged, pressed a switch behind the counter that at once gave rise to a unison groan from the watching customers. That fell silent the next moment.
“…Track Plaza where police are hunting the suspect whoshot and killed a man at Southdale Center earlier this afternoon. There is a heavy police presence at the scene.” While the news anchor talked, pictures showed the police cars at Nicollet Mall and Bob caught a glimpse of Kay and him heading for the entrance. The view went split screen, with the studio anchor on one half and the female reporter Bob had just seen on the other.
“What’s happening now, Shirley?”
“Right now we’re standing on a skyway because everyone has been told to stay away from the place where the suspect may emerge. There are reports that he’s armed, but none of the police are willing to talk to us. But I’ll do my best to get an interview, Rick.”
“Thanks, Shirley. We’ll be back with more on this story after the weather.”
