Blow Out
Page 29
“Yes, we know.”
“And I went out from there, out the side door that’s next to the information desk. There’s lots of construction going on, and it looked like an unfinished Hollywood set out there, what with the piles of raw wood, the row of Porta Potties, temporary construction buildings, all covered with a sprinkling of white. It was pretty, but cold, real cold. Not much wind, which was good. I lit up. Ah—you can’t imagine how deep I sucked it in, the taste got me over my anger at Glyna.” He paused, and Savich imagined he was remembering the feeling of drawing that smoke deep into his lungs.
“I was standing there, leaning my shoulder against the wall, thinking about stuff, you know? My son is in law school, but he’s having some trouble with it, and the fight with Glyna—then I heard something, something I shouldn’t have heard. We’re trained, you know, to tell sounds apart, to know which ones are the usual sounds of the building or the wind, which ones shouldn’t be there, even the sound of someone or something brushing against all that marble. I swear I can hear someone running a finger over the marble, you get real sensitive to stuff like that. Anyway, I was reaching for my gun as I turned, and something crashed down on my head. I was gone, Agent Savich. Just gone. I don’t even remember hitting the ground. I woke up here with a nurse leaning over me.”
“That’s excellent, Officer Biggs. Now, relax and think back again. You’re smoking, thinking about your son. Then you hear something. What is it exactly?”
“Like someone was there, behind one of the temporary buildings, real close, not more than a half dozen feet away. I remember thinking, now what the hell is that? I even called out, ‘Who’s there?’ ”
“The sound was only six feet away?”
“Not more than ten feet, that’s for sure. You saw the construction there, right? Nearly right against the building. Yeah, real close.”
“How long was it after you heard the noise that you were struck on the head?”
“Not more than a couple of seconds. Like I said, I turned really fast when I heard it, came right to attention, you know? Drew my gun and everything. And just when I turned, I got smashed on the back of my head.”
Sherlock said, “Do you think there were two people there, Officer Biggs? One to distract you, make you turn toward the noise, the other person behind you?”
The man’s eyes closed again. Savich said, “That’s right, try to feel it again, try to remember exactly what you were thinking, hearing. Okay, you’re standing there, Officer Biggs, you’re alert, you’re listening. You’re at attention.”
In a defeated voice filled with despair, Officer Biggs whispered, “Now that I really concentrate on it, I think it was one guy, Agent Savich. Maybe he tossed something to make me look in one direction, to distract me.”
Sherlock stroked her fingers down to close them over his hand.
“I think I would have felt it if there’d been two of them—I’ve got real good instincts for stuff like that, real sharp senses. But he still got me, still laid me flat.”
“Thank you, Officer Biggs. We’ll be speaking to you again, but not until you’re feeling better. You rest. You’ve given us excellent information.”
“Did Marshal Halpern know anything? What does she think of all this?”
Sherlock said, “She hopes that you’re better soon. She asked us to tell you she’ll be coming to see you shortly. Special Agent Frank Halley is speaking with her now. She’ll let you know if she has any other ideas about this.”
“She’s been a good boss, doesn’t take grief from any of the guards. I hope she doesn’t fire my ass.”
Sherlock nodded to the guard stationed outside Officer Biggs’s room. She said as they walked down the quiet hospital corridor, “He’ll have to live with this for the rest of his life.”
“Yes. And I’ll bet you he’ll never smoke another cigarette.”
They passed Glyna Biggs in the waiting room, nodded to her, tried to look reassuring, and continued on their way.
“Now,” Savich said, “it’s back to headquarters. I have no doubt that Agent Frank Halley will be ready to take my head off for being assigned over him on this.”
They left the huge complex, heads down against the blowing snow, and walked to the parking lot. Once in his Porsche, Savich turned the heater on high. Sherlock said, as she pulled off her gloves, “Frank will get over it. It’s what Director Mueller wants.” She grinned, patted his arm. “I’ll tell him that we’re the best. Then you can invite him to the gym.”
“And I went out from there, out the side door that’s next to the information desk. There’s lots of construction going on, and it looked like an unfinished Hollywood set out there, what with the piles of raw wood, the row of Porta Potties, temporary construction buildings, all covered with a sprinkling of white. It was pretty, but cold, real cold. Not much wind, which was good. I lit up. Ah—you can’t imagine how deep I sucked it in, the taste got me over my anger at Glyna.” He paused, and Savich imagined he was remembering the feeling of drawing that smoke deep into his lungs.
“I was standing there, leaning my shoulder against the wall, thinking about stuff, you know? My son is in law school, but he’s having some trouble with it, and the fight with Glyna—then I heard something, something I shouldn’t have heard. We’re trained, you know, to tell sounds apart, to know which ones are the usual sounds of the building or the wind, which ones shouldn’t be there, even the sound of someone or something brushing against all that marble. I swear I can hear someone running a finger over the marble, you get real sensitive to stuff like that. Anyway, I was reaching for my gun as I turned, and something crashed down on my head. I was gone, Agent Savich. Just gone. I don’t even remember hitting the ground. I woke up here with a nurse leaning over me.”
“That’s excellent, Officer Biggs. Now, relax and think back again. You’re smoking, thinking about your son. Then you hear something. What is it exactly?”
“Like someone was there, behind one of the temporary buildings, real close, not more than a half dozen feet away. I remember thinking, now what the hell is that? I even called out, ‘Who’s there?’ ”
“The sound was only six feet away?”
“Not more than ten feet, that’s for sure. You saw the construction there, right? Nearly right against the building. Yeah, real close.”
“How long was it after you heard the noise that you were struck on the head?”
“Not more than a couple of seconds. Like I said, I turned really fast when I heard it, came right to attention, you know? Drew my gun and everything. And just when I turned, I got smashed on the back of my head.”
Sherlock said, “Do you think there were two people there, Officer Biggs? One to distract you, make you turn toward the noise, the other person behind you?”
The man’s eyes closed again. Savich said, “That’s right, try to feel it again, try to remember exactly what you were thinking, hearing. Okay, you’re standing there, Officer Biggs, you’re alert, you’re listening. You’re at attention.”
In a defeated voice filled with despair, Officer Biggs whispered, “Now that I really concentrate on it, I think it was one guy, Agent Savich. Maybe he tossed something to make me look in one direction, to distract me.”
Sherlock stroked her fingers down to close them over his hand.
“I think I would have felt it if there’d been two of them—I’ve got real good instincts for stuff like that, real sharp senses. But he still got me, still laid me flat.”
“Thank you, Officer Biggs. We’ll be speaking to you again, but not until you’re feeling better. You rest. You’ve given us excellent information.”
“Did Marshal Halpern know anything? What does she think of all this?”
Sherlock said, “She hopes that you’re better soon. She asked us to tell you she’ll be coming to see you shortly. Special Agent Frank Halley is speaking with her now. She’ll let you know if she has any other ideas about this.”
“She’s been a good boss, doesn’t take grief from any of the guards. I hope she doesn’t fire my ass.”
Sherlock nodded to the guard stationed outside Officer Biggs’s room. She said as they walked down the quiet hospital corridor, “He’ll have to live with this for the rest of his life.”
“Yes. And I’ll bet you he’ll never smoke another cigarette.”
They passed Glyna Biggs in the waiting room, nodded to her, tried to look reassuring, and continued on their way.
“Now,” Savich said, “it’s back to headquarters. I have no doubt that Agent Frank Halley will be ready to take my head off for being assigned over him on this.”
They left the huge complex, heads down against the blowing snow, and walked to the parking lot. Once in his Porsche, Savich turned the heater on high. Sherlock said, as she pulled off her gloves, “Frank will get over it. It’s what Director Mueller wants.” She grinned, patted his arm. “I’ll tell him that we’re the best. Then you can invite him to the gym.”
