“You goddammed asshole, you—”
The grip on my arms loosened. I broke free. I kicked hard against the kneecap, rolled to the ground, rolled toward Dornick. Elton had seized his legs. Dornick was flailing about, trying to get an angle where he could shoot Elton and not hit himself. He was stronger than the homeless man, but all that meant was that as he thrashed about he dragged Elton with him.
I gave a primitive yell, smashed my hand into his forearm, and seized the gun. A moment later, the embankment was awash in blue.
48
UP AGAINST THE WALL . . . ALL OF YOU!
A POLICE LAUNCH HAD ARRIVED, BUT IT TOOK US ALL A few minutes to realize that. Two of Dornick’s banditti tried to run off, but the launch turned its spotlight on the shore. A couple of cops pulled out rifles and ordered the men to stop where they were. Dornick was doubled over on the ground, but he shouted for help:
“Officer down! Officer down!” he cried. “Get that bitch before she escapes. She grabbed my weapon.”
“He’s a liar,” Elton cried in a high-pitched gabble. “Vic, she was here with her girl. They were hiding from this man here. He’s a psycho. We seen plenty like him in Vietnam, rogue soldiers who start shooting their own men. He’da killed Vic if I hadn’t tackled him. And he broke my house in little pieces, just for nothing but to make me feel bad.”
“You look her up,” Dornick said. “She already murdered one cop this week. She’s out for revenge on the whole police force.”
Men in Kevlar vests jumped ashore. They covered all of us with their assault rifles and herded us onto the launch. I was shaking so badly, I almost fell into the river. The cops hoisted me over the side of the launch, and left me under guard while they went back for Dornick’s wounded thug.
Petra was sitting in the stern, wrapped in a gray police blanket. In some dim part of my exhausted mind, I felt relief at knowing she was safe. But mostly I wanted to lie down on the deck and sleep.
Once we were all on board, Dornick had the gall to try to pretend I had held him hostage—him and his three banditti—and forced them to the river, where I proposed shooting them, just as I had shot Larry Alito.
“That’s not true, Mr. Dornick.” Petra called out from the stern. “You know you tried to kill me and Vic. I don’t even know how she escaped, except I guess she’s more resourceful than you.”
That made me smile. The cops wouldn’t let me go over to Petra, so I blew her a kiss.
In the meantime, though, the river police had looked me up and found Bobby’s outstanding warrant on me. They cuffed me, and told me I had the right to remain silent, but as we rode downriver I kept repeating Bobby’s cellphone number and telling them to call Bobby before they booked me and left Dornick free to flee their jurisdiction. Petra’s insistence that it was Dornick who’d been threatening us made them decide to give me at least enough of the benefit of the doubt to call Bobby, who ordered them to bring all of us in.
At the Grand Avenue Landing station, they transferred us from the launch to a paddy wagon. It was one of the old beat-up ones, without springs or shocks. Dornick was beside himself with rage. Him, the head of Mountain Hawk Security, a twenty-year veteran, in the wagon with common criminals.
“I’m not a common criminal, Mr. Dornick,” Petra said. “And neither is Vic. And Elton sure isn’t. So please be quiet.”
Elton was having the toughest time of all of us, being crammed in with so many people. He was sweating, and his teeth chattered. And each time we hit a pothole, he seemed to think it was a grenade, and he’d try to hit the floor but was held to the seat by his handcuffs. “That one was close. Charlie’s closing in. Move your big feet,” he muttered.
“Elton. We’re in Chicago. It’s Vic. You saved my life.” I leaned as close to him as I could in my handcuffs. “Mine and Petra’s. We’ll get your house repaired. Hold on for another hour. We’re going to make it.”
“That’s right, Elton. You’re the best. It’s Petra—your girl Petra—remember?” my cousin chimed in.
Elton stopped mumbling to himself long enough to say, “You’re a good girl, Petra. We’ll get out of here alive, you trust me for that one.”
Dornick said, “Trust you, you drunken rat? Shut up! I’ll deal with you later.”
“George, you’re the rat in this van, and you are finally going to go into that big old rattrap where you belong. You know how much fun they’re going to have with you in Stateville when they learn you’re the man who tortured Johnny Merton’s boys? I do hope your will is up-to-date.”
Dornick lunged across the seat at me, but the cops riding with us held him back.
Petra huddled next to me on the narrow seat. Under her police blanket, she was still wet from the river. I clasped her hands with my own cuffed ones.