Sudden prey

TWENTY-ONE

THE WHOLE DAY DRAGGED, THE HOURS SQUEEZING BY: every cop in the department was on the street: there were rumors that the local gangs were filling up the

Chicago-bound buses, just to get out of the pressure.

Lucas had run out of ideas, and spent half the day at the hospital, with dwindling expectations.

Night came, but no LaChaise…

THE HOSPITAL WAS QUIET, DARK. NURSES PADDED around in running shoes, answering calls from individual rooms, pushing pills. Lucas, Del and a narcotics cop named

McKinney hung out in an office just off the main lobby. There was no telling where LaChaise and Martin would try to crack the place-if they tried at all-but from the lobby, they could move quickly to either end of the building.

''Unless they come in by parachute,'' McKinney said.

''That'd be good,'' Del said. ''You see that movie?''

''Yeah… actually, there've been a couple of them. There was that one where the guy jumps out of the plane without a'chute, you see that one? Grabs the guy in midair?''

''What's-his-name was in it, the kid, you know, the Excellent Adventure guy,''

Lucas said.

''Yeah, I saw that,'' said McKinney. ''That's what got me jumpin'.''

''Hey, you jump? Far out…''

They talked about skydiving until they wore it out, then Lucas went back down the hall and crawled into an empty bed. Del sat up with McKinney; when first light came, he put his gun away and went to sit with Cheryl until she woke.

''YOU WANT ME TO DRIVE?'' MARTIN ASKED SANDY.

''No, I'm okay,'' she said.

''Watch your speed. We don't want to attract no cops,'' Martin said.

''Maybe we should of stopped in Des Moines,'' LaChaise said. ''This is a long fuckin' way.''

LaChaise had spent the trip in the backseat. Whenever they passed a highway patrolman-they'd seen three-he sprawled out of sight.

''Yeah, well, we're almost there,'' Martin said. ''See that glow out there? Way off, straight ahead? That's Kansas City.''

They'd made the decision late in the afternoon, LaChaise and Martin, and just after dark, LaChaise had walked back to the bedroom and said, ''Get your stuff ready.''

Sandy sat up. ''Where're we going?''

''Mexico.''

''Mexico? Dick, are you serious?'' She felt a quick beat of hope. If they made it out of town, they'd have some room. And someplace along the road, they'd forget about her for a while, and she'd walk away. A dusty little restaurant someplace, a small town out on the desert… she'd wait until they started eating, then she'd tell them she had to go to the ladies'room and then she'd walk out, leave a note on the car seat, hide until they were gone.

It was all there, in her mind's eye: and when they were gone-long gone-she'd turn herself in. Work it out.

A possibility.

But now Dick was complaining that they'd come too far? What was all that about?

She thought about it, a sinking feeling, and finally asked, ''Why is Kansas City too far, Dick?'' He didn't answer immediately. ''Dick?''

''Because we don't want to drive in the daytime,'' Martin said. He looked at his watch. ''It'll be light in another hour. We've got to find a motel.''

Martin spotted an all-night supermarket on the outskirts of the city, and told

Sandy to take the off ramp. LaChaise waited in the car with Sandy until Martin returned: he'd bought two loaves of bread, a couple of pounds of sandwich meat, and two big bars of dark green auto mechanic's soap.

''What's the soap for?'' Sandy asked, peering into the bag.

''Whittlin','' Martin said, grinning at her.

LaChaise rented a room in a chain motel called the Red Roof Inn. LaChaise went in because he'd shaved just before they left the Cities, and Sandy had given him a neat trim. Wearing one of Harp's suits with a silk tie, he looked like a

Republican. He paid cash for the room, two days, said he was alone, and asked that the maid be told not to wake him up.

''Been traveling all night,'' he said.

''No problem,'' said the woman behind the desk.

The room was on the back side of the motel, with two double beds and a TV. They slept, restlessly, until two o'clock, when Martin got up and ordered a pizza,

Coke and coffee from a local pizza place. The stuff was delivered, no questions, and they ate silently. At four, with the sun slipping down in the west, they went back out to the car.

Martin said, ''I'll drive.'' ''That's all right, I…''

''Get in the back and shut up,'' LaChaise said.

''What's going on?'' Sandy asked. LaChaise grabbed her by the jacket and jerked her forward, until his face was only an inch from hers: she could smell the cheese and onions from the pizza.

''Change of plans. Now get in the fuckin' car.''

She got in the car. ''Dick, what're you going to do? Dick… ?''

''We're gonna rob another goddamned credit union, is what we're gonna do,''

LaChaise said.

LUCAS WAS AT THE HOSPITAL BECAUSE HE COULDN'T think of any better place to be: they now hadn't heard from LaChaise for thirty-six hours. Del, Sloan, Sherrill came and went and returned. They were running out of conversational gambits, sitting in dark rooms, out of sight, waiting…

Lester called. ''Lucas: LaChaise, Martin and Darling just hit a credit union in

Kansas City. Not more than an hour ago-four twenty-five.''

''Kansas City?'' The news came like a punch, left him unsteady. ''Are they sure?''

''Yeah, they say there's no doubt. We're getting a videotape relayed through

TV3. The Kansas City cops gave it to everybody in sight.''

''How soon will you have the tape?''

''Ten or fifteen minutes, I guess. TV3's putting it on the air soon as they get it. We're gonna tape it off them.''

Lucas hung up and looked at Sherrill and Sloan: ''You ain't gonna believe it,'' he said.

THE ROBBERY WAS SMOOTH, PROFESSIONAL. MARTIN was in first with an AR-15. He was shouting the moment hecame through the door, leveling the rifle, pointing at people.

LaChaise pushed Sandy Darling through the door behind Martin, then vaulted up on the counter. There were only two customers in the place, and three people behind the counter. LaChaise looted the cash drawers, said something to one of the younger women, smacked her on the ass with the palm of his hand and crossed through the counter gate. The camera, taking in the whole office, showed Sandy

Darling pressed against the wall, her hands over her ears.

''They ain't no cherries,'' Del said. They were in homicide, fifteen guys and four women standing around a small TV.

''You've seen it before,'' Lucas said. ''It's the same goddamn robbery that we broke up, all over again.''

''Except for the grenade,'' Sherrill said.

As they were backing out the door, Martin gave a little speech. ''We want everybody into the manager's office, on the floor, behind the desk. We're gonna roll a hand grenade in here… now I don't want to scare anyone, 'cause they're nothing like you see in movies. There'll just be a little pop. You'll be fine if you're behind the desk…''

Martin held up what looked like a grenade, and the office staff and customers jammed into the manager's office, out of sight. Martin called, ''Here we go,'' and rolled the grenade into the room, and disappeared. The grenade turned out to be a hand-carved lump of green soap that didn't look too much like a grenade, when you looked at it close.

''No plates,'' Lucas grunted, watching. ''They didn't want anybody to run out and see the car and get the plates.''

''Darling didn't look too happy to be there. No gun, she looked scared, they had to push her in and out,'' Sloan said.

''They got eight grand,'' said somebody else.

''So he says to this chick,'' Lester began, and then corrected himself, ''… this woman, the teller, he says, 'You oughta make it to Acapulco sometime, honey.' ''

''Sounds like bullshit,'' said Del.

''I don't know,'' Lester said. ''He's the kind of guy who'd say something like that.'' He looked around the room: ''I wish we'd taken him here, goddamnit.''

LATE THAT NIGHT, SANDY SAT IN THE BACKSEAT, UNMOVING, wide awake, not quite believing it. The lights of Des Moines were fading in the rear window. They were headed back to Minneapolis, ahead of what the all-night stations were saying was a major storm coming up from the Southwest. Already blizzard conditions in

Nebraska.

They'd be in the Cities by dawn, back in the apartment. The whole thing had been a game, to loosen up the targets.

''A stroke of fuckin' genius,'' LaChaise said, pounding Martin on the back. ''I just wish we had someplace to spend the cash.''