The Last Day

FORTY

Todd went to his truck and returned holding two cell phones. “I have these for you to use. They're encrypted, so Gene and I can call you and you can call us without worrying about being monitored. The numbers are on the labels on the backs. When this is over, you can go back to using your lines. These'll work with your chargers.”

Ward and Natasha took the cell phones and looked at the numbers on the backs of the units.

Gene came into the room and said, “What other brand of shit are we going to step into?”

Ward was thinking about Alice Palmer. The girl could certainly add gasoline to the fire that appeared to be no more than coals, and if she went to the federal prosecutor, he might use her as additional proof of Ward's sexual interest in youngsters. Ward was about to mention her to Gene when Natasha did. “Todd, tell Gene about Alice Palmer,” she said. “And the missing car.”

“Who?” Gene asked.

“I'll let Todd tell you,” Ward said.

After Todd ran it all down, he played the tape of his conversation with Alice for Gene. The lawyer shook his head and said, “For pity's sake, can it get any worse? You should have told me this earlier, a lot earlier.”

“Isn't that the truth,” Natasha said. She was staring out the window.

“I figured Todd could handle it. So far he's batting a thousand.”

“It's under control,” Todd added evenly.

Natasha said, “I guess that hole out there explains why I felt like I was being watched. Sunday I thought I saw something move out there in the shadows. Jesus, I thought it was an animal.”

“Do you have a gun in the house?” Todd asked.

“Of course not.” Natasha was incredulous. “Why would we own a gun?”

“Well,” Todd said, “whatever was out in that hole is the best reason I can think of.”

“Ward? With a gun!” Gene said, laughing out loud. “I doubt he knows which end the bullets come out of.”

“That much I know,” Ward said.

The gun Todd took out of his briefcase was a black steel shortbarreled revolver.

“This is a five- shot, thirty- eight-caliber Smith and Wesson,” he said. “This is how it works. Pay attention.” He pushed forward the textured button on the side of the weapon and held the gun so his new students could see what he was doing as he spoke. “You hold this and push on this side of the cylinder and it swings open.” He rotated the gun so they could see that it was empty before he placed five red plastic bullets on the counter, rounded tips pointing up. With measured slowness, Todd took them one by one and placed each into an empty chamber until all were inserted, then closed the cylinder.

“I want you to practice loading and unloading this gun until you can do it fast. The gun will not go off unless the cylinder is closed and the trigger is pulled. The hammer can be cocked manually or just squeeze the trigger and it fires double action.”

Todd opened the gun, ejected the dummy bullets into his hand, laid them on the counter, and closed the cylinder.

“You can safely practice loading and dry- firing with the dummies.” He reloaded the gun rapidly. “It isn't good for a hammer to fall on an empty chamber.”

“Why is that?” Ward asked.

“In the old days revolver firing pins could break if they didn't strike a primer. The new pins on revolvers are stronger, but every machine has an infinite number of movements before it fails,” Todd said. “No sense tempting the laws of metallurgy.” He pointed the gun at the refrigerator and pulled the trigger once, then again.

He handed it to Ward butt first.

Ward looked down the barrel.

“It doesn't have much in the way of sights,” Todd said.

“How do you line them up then?” Ward asked.

“Don't need to, close in. This has a short barrel, so for all intents and purposes the sights are useless. Just point it like you'd point your finger at something you're looking at and your brain will aim it for you. Natasha, load it and point at the stove.”

Ward handed it to Natasha, who held the gun as though it were a dead rat. Gracelessly she managed to open the cylinder, load the plastic bullets, and close it.

Todd smiled. “Don't put your finger in the trigger guard until you are going to squeeze it. As soon as you decide to use it, point and squeeze like you're making a tight fist. Firmly and slowly, because the gun will go off target if you jerk it. If you imagine that you're aiming at a saucer your enemy is wearing on his chest you'll hit vital organs-heart or lungs. I don't expect that I have to tell you where the vital organs are, Doctor.”

“I don't intend to fire it.”

“Don't extend the gun. Keep it close to your body. If you point the gun at someone, fire immediately Anyone who knows what he's doing can take it from you and use it against you.”

“I would never shoot a person,” Natasha said with certainty.

“Okay. Then aim to hit something directly behind him and let the bullet find its own path.”

“It would go through him,” Leslie said.

“If that's the path the bullet has to take, so be it. Natasha, if your target gets the gun, he'll probably use it on you and Ward. Could you kill to save your husband's life or your own?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding as she met Ward's eyes. “I would kill to save him. But I'm a doctor. ‘First, do no harm.’ ”

“You're a living woman first,” Todd said, smiling. “After you shoot the son of a bitch, as a wife protecting yourself and your husband, you can give him CPR as a doctor until the paramedics arrive.”

Ward laughed nervously.

Natasha didn't.

“Again. You will only point the gun at someone you have decided to shoot,” Todd said, seriously. “Do not hesitate. A man who knows what he's doing can move thirty feet in less than two seconds. A decision to fire through the trigger pull takes an average of three. It's longer if you are a civilian. If that man has a knife he can bat the gun aside and kill you before you can squeeze the trigger. So make the decision when you raise the gun and fire then.”

“I'll keep the gun,” Ward said.

“That would probably be best,” Natasha said. “I'd be thinking about all the gunshot wounds I've tried to repair. The damage it would do.”

“Regardless, you should familiarize yourself with the weapon. Just in case.”

Natasha pointed the Smith at the stove, closing her eyes; when she pulled the trigger, she jerked visibly at the snap. Natasha handed the gun to Ward, and he did the same thing. He play- fired the gun, killing the windows, the refrigerator, the Mixmaster, the fridge, the stove, and Mr. Coffee. By the end of the session, Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson were not quite old friends, but they were acquaintances.