Page 81 of No Safe Place

“What are you going to do on the roof?” Travers wanted to know.

“Set the structure ablaze, forcing the suspects to exit the premises,” Shaw said matter-of-factly.

“Are you out of your freaking mind?” said Garner, leaning in and giving Shaw a hard-edged glare.

“You can’t burn down the Beckford Tool Factory. It’s a historic landmark!” he yelled.

“He’s right,” said Travers. “It’s the reason this whole area exists. Be like burning down the Empire State Building.”

Shaw didn’t debate. Didn’t even answer. He just shoved Garner and Travers out of his way left and right. Garner flew back so hard against the side of the cherry picker, it knocked his big hat off.

Then Shaw climbed aboard the cherry picker.

“Where is the operator of this thing? Get up here now! Let’s go!”

70

Rumbling slowly out of the parking lot at the rail of the elevated boom platform a moment later with the fire axe on his shoulder, Shaw drank in the awed looks from the local cops.

This is glory, Shaw thought. Actual glory. I am Ben-Hur on his glorious chariot being borne to the battle. Stand aside!

“Can’t this thing go any faster?” Shaw said to the operator, some Hispanic cop who looked like he was still in high school.

“This is it, sir,” the kid said from the control console as they turtle crawled, finally turning onto South Street.

Passing the grocery store, he gave a thumbs-up to Doug propped in a sniper’s position up on its roof.

Doug wasn’t messing around, Shaw noticed. He was pointing the big barrel of a Barrett, an actual fifty-caliber Barrett, at the upper windows of the brick factory.

Shaw smiled. Doug had his orders. They all did.

Shoot to kill, kill, kill.

“Okay, Doug,” Shaw called into his mic as they turned onto State Street.

“Get everyone into position now.”

“Roger,” Doug called.

As Shaw watched, first a half dozen and then ten cop cars screeched down Route 4 and Depot Street to surround the entire north half of the factory. He watched the cops stop and open their doors and crouch down beside them, holding long guns.

“Okay, wait, wait,” Shaw called into the mic as they got closer.

The platform finally arrived at the parking lot beside the wrecked restaurant.

“Okay, covering fire. Now, now, now.”

First there were a few pops and then Shaw smiled again as they all opened up at once from behind the hoods of the cruisers.

The cops letting it rip was something to see all right. And hear, Shaw thought as a full-on symphony of blasting shotguns and rat-a-tat-tatting AR15s filled his ears. Added to this Hollywood blockbuster soundtrack soon came the sound effect of the factory’s twenty front-facing windows all simultaneously getting shattered into bits by flying lead.

In fact, the entire front facade seemed to shatter and shudder as windowpanes imploded and bricks were obliterated in puffs of red dust. Bullets ripped off the window headers and exploded the jambs. Under this withering barrage, a waterfall of brick fragments and glass shards and wood splinters began dropping down into the parking lot.

Shaw smiled some more as he thought of the cocky cop inside. He was in there, no doubt sucking the floor, probably pissing himself, as the place got filled with an unrelenting fusillade of lead.

Or had he already taken several bullets to the head? Shaw wondered. He certainly hoped so.

King of the castle? They were tearing a hole into the wall of this little castle, weren’t they? he thought as he watched the glorious destruction.

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