Sudden prey

SANDY GOT INTERESTED IN THE DISGUISES.

She got LaChaise to sit on a stool in the bathroom, ran her fingers through his thick, stiff hair. ''Can't just layer over your natural color, 'cause it's too dark,'' she said, half to herself. She got the bleach and LaChaise said, ''You sure about this?''

''I see it done all the time, up at Pearl's,'' she said, and she started working the bleach in. When she was done with his hair she said, ''The bleach might be too harsh for your face… maybe you oughta shave.''

''Try it,'' he said. She worked it in; the fumes were bad, but LaChaise, eyes closed, sat it out.

When she was finished, bleach had turned LaChaise's normally dark hair and beard to a thin, watery yellow, the color of corn silk. The delicate color contrasted oddly with the harsh contours of his face. ''Holy shit, I look like some kind of fag,'' he said, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. ''Maybe I oughta leave it like this.''

''Too weird,'' Martin said. ''You want people to look away from you, not stare at you.''

They did the color next, and when he looked again, La-Chaise was impressed. With the gray beard, he looked as though he might be seventy. ''Get your back humped, nobody'll give you a second look,'' Martin said.

LaChaise looked at Sandy: ''You done really good,'' he said.

Sandy had been enjoying herself: now it went away, and under her breath, as she turned way, she said, ''Fuck you.''

LaChaise said to Martin, ''Your turn.''

ANDERSON HAD PHOTOS OF BILL MARTIN. ''WE'LL PUT them out at the afternoon press conference,'' he said. ''We've got a line on his truck and license tag, and we're putting that on the street right now.''

''All right-have you seen Stadic?''

''Yeah, he was through here. We sent him home. I think he's kind of messed up.''

''He's never shot anyone before,'' Lucas said. He yawnedand said, ''He saved my bacon this morning… Jesus, I got to get some sleep.''

''Go get it,'' Anderson said. ''There's nothing going on… what happened with Weather and Jennifer?'' ''Jen should be okay-they've got armed security at the station, and the kids are gone. But I want to find a couple of cops who'll stick by Weather on an off-duty basis. I'll pay them. She's getting bitchy, she won't stay put.''

''You should have got her some knitting stuff,'' Anderson said. ''You know, so she'd have something to do over there at the hotel.''

''I don't think…'' Lucas started. Then he looked at Anderson, whose face was resolutely stuck in neutral.

''I just don't want them hurt, that's all,'' Lucas said.

''Yeah, I know, you don't want them to take the risks you're taking… as much fun as they are.''

Lucas looked sideways at him: ''Whose side are you on?''

Anderson shrugged. ''Theirs.''

''A traitor to his sex,'' Lucas said, and he yawned again. ''Listen, I'm gonna grab a few hours. If you need me, I'm at home.''

''We'll call,'' Anderson said.

Lucas said, ''Goddamn women.''

LACHAISE STARTED LAUGHING WHEN HE SAW MARTIN, and made Martin link arms with him and shuffle around the apartment. Martin joined in, almost as though he'd stepped outside his dour personality.

''Don't quite look old,'' Sandy said. ''You look old, but you move young.''

''We need some practice,'' LaChaise said. And then, a spark in his eyes, ''Let's go on out to this big fuckin' mall. What do they call it-the Mall of America?''

Sandy was appalled by the idea: ''Dick, you're nuts.''

His smile vanished. ''You never fuckin' say that,'' he said.

She shut up: Dick, she thought, was losing it. Play to him, look for a chance.

Try not to be in the way when the shooting started.

MARTIN TOOK THE TRUCK, AND SANDY AND LACHAISE followed behind in the

Continental. Martin left the truck in a neighborhood north of the airport. He patted it once, like he might a horse, looked it over, then got in the

Continental.

''Makes you want to cry,'' LaChaise said.

''Damn good truck,'' Martin said, looking back at it as they drove away. ''You know, it was perfect, mechanically. New engine, new tranny-new about everything.

I could go anyplace, and nobody'd give it a second look. Good thing, too, when you're dealing guns.''

''Where're we going?'' Sandy asked, still behind the wheel.

''The mall,'' LaChaise said.

''We oughta take care of some business first,'' Martin said.

''Yeah? What's that?''

Martin had a map of the downtown area. ''I want to go look up the hospital where they're taking these people… Hennepin General. Then I want to go over to this other one, where Davenport's old lady works. Just a recon, to see where it is.''

''All right,'' LaChaise said. ''I'm just glad to be out.''

The first hospital, as it turned out, was only six or eight blocks from Harp's apartment. There were cop cars parked by the entrances.

''That'd be tough,'' Martin said.

''But we could get to it on foot, if we had to,'' LaChaise said. ''If that big storm comes in…''

The other hospital was farther away, but easy to get to- straight down Eleventh to Washington, right, a couple of naturalturns, across the river and up the hill past a building that looked like it had been built from beer cans-and there it was.

No cop cars.

''This one would be simpler,'' Martin said.

''But it's big,'' said LaChaise. ''Finding her could be a problem-even knowing for sure that she's in there could be a problem.''

''We could work it out,'' Martin said.

Sandy drove, listening; she was shocked by the coolness of the discussion.

They'd done robberies, she was sure: Candy and Georgie hadn't started on their own. Still, she was reluctantly impressed by the cool appraisal of the targets.

''Now: out to this mall,'' LaChaise said. He stretched out in back, favoring his side. The wound was tightening up. ''Feel like I'm being held together by banjo strings,'' he grumbled. But he sat up as they approached the mall.

''Looks like Uncle Scrooge's money bin,'' he said.

''You ain't far wrong,'' Martin said.

Sandy found a parking spot in the ramp, and they went inside. The mall was packed, but nobody gave them a second look. And LaChaise was fascinated.

''Goddamnedest thing I ever seen,'' LaChaise said, as they stopped outside the

Camp Snoopy amusement park. A gangbanger dragged by, looked them over-two old guys with beards and long black coats. They looked like cartoons. The gang-banger smirked, kept going.

LaChaise took them on a circuit of the mall, browsing through the stores, checking out the women, dragging Sandy along.

''We gotta get out of here,'' Sandy said, after the first circuit.

''We just got here,'' LaChaise said, enjoying himself.

''Dick, please…''

''Tell you what, let's catch a movie.''

''We can see a movie back at the apartment, he's got HBO. Please.''

''Then let's get a pizza, or something. God, is that cinnamon rolls I smell?''

The gang-banger went by again, this time from the other direction-they'd both made a circuit of the second level- but this time, after he passed, he turned and followed them.

There was something not quite right here, the banger thought. There was something wrong with the old guys, and the blond was nervous. Her nervousness gave the whole trio a sense of vulnerability. The feel of vulnerability brought him in, like a mosquito to bare flesh. Victims…

There may have been ten thousand people in the mall, but there were also dead spots. One of them was next to an automatic teller machine. The banger watched as the trio bought cinnamon rolls and Cokes, then sat on a bench next to the