Moe frog-marched Martin from the workshop, a gun against his ribs. Durdon stuck his gun under Dorothy’s armpit and said, “On your feet, Granny.”
She stood slowly. “I suppose even a sociopath like you had a grandmother once. And unless she was as horrifying as you are, she would be disgusted to hear you talk to me like that.”
He hit her. “What is this, a TV talk show? First the detective bitch and now you? Shut up and move.”
“That’s the Metargon spirit, Durdon,” I said heartily. “It’s where old Edward Breen started all those years ago, bringing Nazi collaborators into the country, then murdering them and burying them in his basement. No wonder Cordell likes you so much.”
“You can say what you want; it doesn’t matter.” Durdon refused to be provoked. “Mr. Breen already covered that issue with the police. They know it was that loser Dzornen who buried the woman.”
“Cordell told them that, but that doesn’t make it true. We’ll find what happened to Gertrud Memler when we get Martina’s German journals translated.”
“Get Warshawski out of here,” Curly said to Durdon. “She’s stalling until the other woman gets back here with a cop. Don’t argue with her.”
“You take them,” Durdon said. “I’ll bring up the rear with Granny. Gun’s at the base of her neck, girls, so move along double-quick if you don’t want her dead at your feet.”
Curly took Alison’s free arm. He pulled her forward so hard that she stumbled. My feet got tangled in hers and I almost fell. He kept us moving fast, his gun in Alison’s neck.
Martin and Moe were at the top of the stairs.
“Martin?” Judy’s scratchy voice came down to us. “What have they done to you? Did this man hit you? Why did you do that to my baby?”
“Oh, get out of the way, you dried-up drug-fucked cunt,” Moe said.
She was outlined in the doorway above them, swaying. “You don’t talk to me like that and you don’t hurt my baby,” she rasped.
She suddenly grabbed a mop from the brackets at the top of the stairs and shoved it at Moe’s head. He jumped out of the way, but he lost his hold on Martin, and stumbled backward on the stairs.
I felt Curly move his gun away from Alison. I grabbed her hand below our cuffs and dragged her up the stairs. “Move!” I yelled, as she hesitated.
Moe recovered his footing. He lunged for me just as Curly shot up the stairs at us. Moe bellowed in pain and fell heavily in front of us.
I yanked on Alison, got her over Moe and out the door at the top of the stairs. Judy had collapsed, clutching the mop. Martin was bending over her, not sure what to do.
“Martin, pick her up, carry her outside,” I ordered.
“But Dorothy?” Alison quavered.
“Meg’s gone for help,” I said. “If we split up, they won’t shoot her: they’ll have to explain it to the sheriff. Go, go, go!”
I wrenched Alison out of the doorway and slammed the basement door on the agents. Martin collected his mother and followed us out the back door.
52
VIRTUAL REALITY
WE’D BEEN with Tinney’s police force for an hour, stuck in separate interrogation rooms, telling our many different stories, when Cordell Breen arrived. He’d flown in on Metargon’s Gulfstream with enough lawyers to start a good-sized firm right on the spot. He also had with him the Chicago-area Director of Homeland Security, a brisk woman named Zeta Molanu.
When Molanu and Breen arrived, the Tinney police chief, Duke Barrow, brought us all into his office to sort out who was going where with whom. Barrow had grown up with Meg Ferguson. He cut off one of Breen’s lawyers mid-sentence to order a patrol officer to take Meg home with Lily and Dorothy.
“I’m going to have an officer spend the night at your place, so don’t worry, just get some sleep,” Barrow assured Meg.
“These women are making accusations against two federal agents,” Zeta Molanu objected. “You can’t release them.”
“This isn’t a courtroom, Ms. Molanu,” the chief said. “You can complain about it for weeks in front of a judge, if you want. I’m just a cop trying to decide who gets arrested and who gets to sleep in her own bed after being beat up this afternoon.”
It was thanks to Meg knowing Chief Barrow that we’d made our ultimate escape. While Martin was struggling across the yard with Judy in his arms, Curly and Durdon had roared out of the kitchen, firing at us. Before they managed to hit us, the patrol cars Meg had summoned pulled up.
One squad car took Judy Binder to the Tinney hospital, with Martin sitting in the backseat with her. When a unit went inside to collect Moe and Dorothy, they saw that Moe was bleeding from the shoulder. They called an ambulance for Moe, but sent Alison, Dorothy and me into the police station along with Curly and Durdon.
Molanu told Barrow that he didn’t have any authority to arrest Homeland Security agents. “If my agents have gone beyond the scope of their orders, we’ll deal with that as a matter of internal discipline.”