|
Page 34.
Chapter 27.
 Somewhere in Raritania, Jeff heard sirens keening. The radio squawked. Then a woman dispatcher said: "Car D-79." McCarthy was driving the unmarked police car. "This is D-79."
Jeff was riding shotgun. Beering and Dusenbery were in the back seat.
"Be advised, D-79. I understand you have some passengers who may be sensitive? We have a report of Officers Down, a blue-and-white, two officers down on Elm Street, Signal 44, Signal 99, Signal 1, with units en route."
"Yeah?" McCarthy barked.
"Be advised, call in on a land phone. The Chief is on his way in right now." Jeff felt a tingle of alarm. He watched Beering's and Dusenbery's faces suddenly radiate puzzlement. McCarthy cruised into a gas station and called. When he came back his face was ashen. He got in, put a flasher on the roof, and sped out. "Your granddaughter," he said. "She's been in an accident."
Jeff looked quickly at Beering. The latter's face drained of all color. His eyes sank shut, his face went slack, and he looked as though he had been stabbed. McCarthy turned up the radio. The dispatcher was directing a number of police cars all at once. One could not hear their replies, only the dispatcher: "Unit 14, Signal 1. Unit 52, Signal 1. Unit 88, Signal 1. Unit 104, Signal 1. Unit 1, Signal 1."
"Unit 1 is the Chief," McCarthy explained. "Signal 1 means drop everything and proceed to. Signal 44 means cop in big trouble, all units respond. Signal 99 means hit it with lights and sirens, top speed." He picked up the radio speaker. "This is D-79, Signal 1."
"Roger D-79," the dispatcher continued without pause. "Unit 5, Signal 1..."
"She's called everyone out," McCarthy explained. "Then she wants to account for each unit..."
Jeff said: "Ask her for status on Lexa." He winced as he said it, realizing he had tipped his hand. But Beering seemed not to notice. "Ask if she is alive," Beering said.
The dispatcher answered McCarthy: "Roger, D-79. Subject is en route to Grace Hospital with paramedics. Subject has superficial injuries."
Beering opened his eyes. "Go to the hospital," he ordered.
The cityscape was full of wailing sirens. "All units," the dispatcher announced, changing tactics, "be on the lookout for a dirty gray van, license unknown at this time, may have one headlight out." The dispatcher began rerouting units away from the incident scene, fanning them out across the city. "Signal 11, Signal 19, Signal 23," she said, and McCarthy muttered in translation: "Suspect hit and run, officer attacked, vehicle to pursue."
They came to the garish lights outside the emergency room. Beering was out before McCarthy could fully stop the car.
Two radio news cars skidded to a halt nearby. Interns and nurses worked amid pandemonium while hospital guards tried to shield out rubberneckers.
Nobody stood in Albert Beering's way, for he owned the hospital. They found two battered looking policemen sitting on gurneys, wrapped in blankets and drinking orange juice from containers. Jeff followed as Beering approached his granddaughter. Lexa lay on a gurney and wore a neck brace. There was a swath of gauze and medical tape around the back of her neck. Beering embraced Lexa, and they whispered together. Jeff overheard: "...It was him, Grandfather. He looked just like the picture."
"There, there," Beering said, "everything will be okay now."
Lexa's eyes were big. "He had a chain in his hand. He was standing by the window. I think he wanted to kill us. When I got there, he chased me for two blocks."
"Everything will be okay now," Beering said.
"You don't understand. A man tried to kill me."
Beering said: "Now, now, my dear Lexa."
Lexa saw Max Dusenbery and rolled her eyes up. Then she saw Jeff, and looked shocked. It was a 'why do this on top of everything to me now?' look. Jeff hung back, not knowing what to say.
"Darling," Beering said, "everything is going to be all right now. You're just hysterical and I don't blame you."
Jeff stood by awkwardly, full of concern for Lexa, yet trying not to show it.
Lexa said: "I am not hysterical. I have made a decision and I might as well tell you right now." She motioned for her grandfather to bend close. She whispered something in his ear. Albert Beering nodded, excused himself, and pulled the curtain shut on himself and Lexa.
Jeff and Dusenbery exchanged glances, then watched as Beering's shadow bent close to listen to his granddaughter. His shadow remained bent over for a time. Then he slowly straightened up, nodding helplessly. The shadow of Lexa's arm was visible, raised in the air with stabbing finger. Albert Beering kept nodding. Her finger kept stabbing at him. His shoulders slumped, and his body language was one of defeat.
When Beering swept the curtain aside, his eyes had a glassy look, and his face betrayed an emotional tic. He told Jeff: "They're going to keep her overnight. There is nothing more for you tonight. McCarthy will take you home. Max, go with them. I will sit with Lexa for a while. I'll take a cab home."
|
