Vertical Run (37 page)

“And you know what I’ll do? I’ll wait until the peak of rush hour. Then I’ll put a chair through a window and take a high dive. Maybe I’ll go out a ten story window. Maybe a forty story window. It doesn’t matter which, because when I hit the concrete my blood will be all over the place. Did you take a look at the street after poor Bernie Levy jumped, Myna? It will be the same with me.”

“Myna, I don’t have to remind you of the penalty for refusing a direct order, do I?”

“You heard what your boss said about my blood awhile back, didn’t you? It’s full of germs or viruses or whatever hellbrew I’m infested with. Anyone who ingests it gets the disease. Think about it, Myna, think of how far Bernie’s blood spattered. Think of how many people will get my blood in their mouths and up their noses if I go out a window during rush hour.”

“Do your duty, Myna, call …”

Myna cut Ransome off. “What’s my alternative? I’m dead if you jump. I’m dead if they bomb us. And I’m dead if I let you walk out of here ’cause your germs will kill everyone in the world.”

“I don’t walk. That’s the deal.”

Myna didn’t answer. After a moment’s silence, Ransome laughed softly. “I want to hear this. Oh yes indeedy, I do. Tell me, Mr. Elliot, just what do you have in mind? Surely you don’t believe that, at this late hour, you have thought of a
new
solution to this little predicament of ours?”

“I have. Do you want to hear it?”

Ransome snorted. “Speak on.”

“First, I want to ask Myna something. Myna, do you
know what your friend Robin, my friend Ransome, has done? What kind of a little treat he left for me in Bernard Levy’s office?”

“Uh …”

“How about you, Parrot? Did you ever get up there and take a looksee?”

“No. I was two floors down on reserve duty. Why do you ask?”

“Tell them, Ransome. You were so damned proud of it, so go ahead and tell them.”

Dave heard a hiss and a snap. Ransome’s cigarettes and lighter had survived the explosion. “I see no reason to do that, Mr. Elliot. Nor does someone like me take orders from someone like you.”

“Fine. I’ll do it for you. Parrot, Myna, the rest of you, what your boss did was cut off some heads and stick them on poles.” Dave paused for effect. “Women’s heads.”

Someone, Dave didn’t know who, muttered an obscenity of disbelief.

Ransome’s voice hardened, not by much, but perceptibly. “You’ve made a mistake, Mr. Elliot. More than one. If you’d looked closely, you would have observed …”

“That you were holding Marge Cohen hostage? Well, you aren’t. I’ve found her, and I freed her, and she’s been a long time out of here.”

Ransome whispered, “Son. Of. A. Bitch.”

“Okay, let’s get down to brass tacks.” Dave was speaking through his teeth, working hard to control his voice. “I want you men to know that your boss has been staking out women’s heads. You got that, people? Do you read me loud and clear? Do you understand what your sick twisted bastard of a C.O. has been doing in his spare time? Let me say it one more time—your boss has been beheading women.”

“Psychological warfare. Approved practices …”

“Can it, Ransome. That’s just an excuse. Men, he wants you to believe that the reason why he did it was to freak me out. I was in ’Nam. You men know that. And while I
was there somebody did the same thing to some Vietnamese women—took their heads off. I freaked then, so your boss figured that I’d freak now. That’s the reason Ransome wants to give you. But it’s not the only reason. It’s not the real reason. The real reason, the reason why he did it …”

“At ease, Elliot. Who gave you a license to practice psychiatry?”

“… is because he likes …”

“Lieutenant Elliot betrayed his own men and his own C.O.”

“…” Dave gasped.

“That’s what he did in ’Nam. He ratted on his commander. Turned him in. Sent him in front of a general court-martial, him and five of his own men. You can’t believe him. You can’t trust a word he says. He’s a Judas.”

“Right.” Dave, his knuckles white, squeezed the radio as tightly as he could. “Right you are, Ransome. And I’m willing to bet that at least one of your men—maybe more than one—will do the same.” Dave lowered his voice and continued earnestly. “One of you men
will
turn in Ransome. You’ll do it because it’s the right thing to do, or you’ll do it because you can’t sleep at night, or you’ll do it because you know that if anyone in authority ever finds out what happened here, then you’ll be in just as much shit as your boss is. And that, my friends, will be very deep shit indeed.”

Ransome snorted. “Drivel. I have authorization …”

“To decapitate women, to mutilate women? Hey, you men, if Ransome has those kinds of orders, I’d want to see them in writing. I mean, if I were you …”

“You men are covered. I’m the senior officer here, fully accountable, and …”

Dave shot back, “It’s the senior officer who gets off with a suspended sentence. The grunts are the ones who hang. That’s the way it always has been, and that’s the way it always will be. I never met a combat soldier who didn’t know that, Ransome.”

“Mr. Elliot, I have had enough of you. Myna, I have ordered you to call headquarters. Now make it so.”

“Don’t, Myna. Listen to my offer. It’s either that or you die.”

The radio went silent. Seconds ticked off. Dave’s hands were sweating. He didn’t dare set down the radio to wipe them dry.

Finally, Myna spoke. “Go ahead, sir. I mean, I think we ought to hear your deal. I mean if no one has any objections.”

“You disappoint me, Myna,” Ransome whispered. “Let me remind you that if he had wanted to make a deal, he could have done so any time this morning.”

You’ve got him on the run, pal
.

Dave snapped, “Partridge, do you believe that? You’ve been closest to Ransome. Come on, Partridge, tell us, tell your buddies, what would have happened if I tried to deal.”

Ransome’s tones rose, although only slightly. “At ease, Partridge! I’ll handle this. As every one of you men know, if Mr. Elliot had been the least bit accommodating, if he had shown any sign of being willing to cooperate, if he’d behaved maturely as we have every right to expect …”

Partridge interrupted. “You would have blown his heart out.”

Ransome’s voice broke. “Partridge, goddamn you, trooper! And Myna, I gave you a fucking order, and you’d fucking well better obey it!”

Dave held his voice level. It wasn’t easy. “My deal is simple. All I want is Ransome. You give him to me, let me have him for a couple of minutes of quality time, and when I’m through …”

“Liar! Goddamned sniveling ratfuck liar!”

“When I’m through with what I have to do—the same thing any one of you would do—then I put away the guns, and turn myself in.”

“This is bullshit! Bullshit! Don’t listen to it!”

Dave forced himself to sound weary and resigned.
“The elevators were probably wrecked by the explosion, Myna. I’ll corne down these stairs, the north stairs. No guns. No tricks. Hands in the air. Then it’s up to you. You want to grease me, fine. I guess I’m a dead man anyway. You want to call headquarters, that’s fine too. Whatever you want, that’s what you do. I don’t care. All I care about is sharing a few intimate moments with your boss.”

“You prick! You think these men are so stupid …”

Another voice cut Ransome off. It was Partridge, speaking quietly. “How do you get him? He’s up here. You’re down there.”

“I’m on my way back to Bernie Levy’s office. I’ll be there in a minute. There’s rope. Cable actually. It’s on the north side of the roof. Tie Ransome up and lower him down to Levy’s window—the one that’s broken open. But first get his clothes off. I want him buck naked.”

Ransome snarled, “Why, Mr. Elliot, I never knew you felt
that
way about me.”

Dave ignored him. “Partridge,
Myna?
Have I got a deal?”

There was silence at the other end of the radio link. Dave held his breath. Now it all hinged on loyalty. How loyal were Ransome’s men to their leader? How much did they love him; how secure was the bond? There was a steadfastness in some soldiers’ souls that was more than mere obedience. If the man they followed was the right kind of man, nothing could break their bond to him. They would die first.

But the officer to whom they pledged their faithfulness had to earn it. Dave didn’t think Ransome had.

Neither did Partridge.

“You got it.” There was a military crispness to Partridge’s voice. Dave knew he was telling the truth.

Ransome roared, “GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF OF ME I’LL SEE YOU IN FRONT OF A FIRING SQUAD YOU PUSSY CUNT DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE TOUCH ME MOTHERFUCKER OR I’LL NAIL YOUR COCK TO THE …”

Dave heard grunting and muffled obscenity. Ransome’s radio made a sound like crumpled cellophane.

“Partridge,” Dave asked, “Partridge, are you there?”

“Here, Mr. Elliot. Where are you?”

“Almost in Levy’s office. I’m in the hallway now.”

“We’re ready to lower him down.”

“Wait a minute, Partridge. What size shoes does he wear?”

“Twelve, I’d say. Wide. Twelve B or C.”

Dave stepped into Bernie’s office. Carnage and meaningless horror, the stuff of every war in history. Best to ignore it. Ignoring it was the only way a soldier could stay sane.

“Perfect. Leave his shoes on. Nothing else. Not even his socks. Only his shoes. You got that, Partridge?”

“I read you, Mr. Elliot.”

“Call me Dave.”

“He’s on his way down … Mr. Elliot.”

Dave walked to the window and tugged back the canvas. He looked up. Ransome’s body had just been put over the edge of the parapet. He was naked, white, and his muscularity was, in some brutal way, beautiful. Even at the distance, Dave could see that his torso bore a network of twisting scars.

The man’s won a Purple Heart. Maybe more than one
.

Ransome had recovered his self-control. He no longer screamed, he no longer swore. His voice was calm, flat, modulated only by his faint Appalachian accent. “I am very disappointed in you men. You are not handling this situation with the responsibility one expects of skilled professionals. However, there is still time …”

Dave pressed the radio’s transmit button. “Partridge, I don’t want him lowered all the way. I’ll tell you when to stop. And see if you can jog him left a little, so I can reach him.”

“Roger, Mr. Elliot.”

“… still time to turn this situation around. You people know me. You know that I’m a fair-minded man. I’m prepared to forget about this unfortunate deviation from
duty. Otherwise, what you are doing will be called mutiny. I want you men …”

Ransome twisted in his descent. His body scraped against the building’s pitted granite facing. He left a streak of abraded skin against the stone. Dave flinched. Ransome didn’t.

“… to think about mutiny. And, I want you to think about your duty. I have every confidence, men, that if you think about your duty, you will do the appropriate and intelligent thing.”

Dave snapped on the radio. “Partridge, about another five feet and then stop.”

“I read you.”

Partridge and the men on the roof had not been gentle with Ransome. His ankles were fastened tight with cable. His circulation had been cut, and his legs were turning an ugly purple. Higher, his arms were locked behind his back. The cable was wound so taut about his midriff that flesh bulged out between the strands. Ransome had to be in pain, but, of course, he didn’t show it. Men like Ransome never did.

Dave stepped back from the window. Ransome’s shoed feet appeared. Then his bare calves. “Hold it,” Dave said.

“Holding.”

Ransome chuckled. “You’ve got it wrong, Mr. Elliot. They’ll have to let me down another foot or two before you’ll be able to suck my cock.”

Dave ignored him. He reached out into the air, took Ransome’s left foot, and unfastened the shoelaces.

“What is it, Mr. Elliot, do you think I’m hiding a .50 caliber machine gun in there?”

Dave slipped off Ransome’s right shoe, and slid it onto his own foot. It was a perfect fit, the same as the left shoe.

Ransome laughed as if enjoying a private joke. “Well, goodie for you. You’ve spent all day pretending to be the kind of man who could fill my shoes. Now, you think you’ve made your case. But you haven’t.”

Dave bent over and tied the laces.

“While you’re relishing your little
temporary
moment of triumph, let me advise you that if you think you’re embarrassing me, you’ve got it wrong. And if you think you can break me, you’re wrong about that too.”

Dave straightened. He leaned out the window, taking one of Ransome’s calves in his hand. He spoke into the radio. “Partridge, did you hear Ransome’s explanation of my situation?”

Partridge sounded a little perplexed. “Yes, sir. Why do you ask?”

“All of it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All about the three phases of the disease. First in the blood, then in the bodily fluids, and then in the respiratory system?”

“Yes, sir. I am aware of that.”

“And you’re sure you understood it all?”

“I am, sir.”

“And you know I’m in the second phase? That the disease can be communicated through my blood, urine, and saliva? And the business about drinking out of the same glass, and love bites, and kissing, and all of that?”

“Absolutely affirmative, sir. Now can you tell me why you’re asking these questions?”

“Sure,” Dave said. “Or better yet, just look over the side, and watch.”

David Elliot looked up into his enemy’s face. He no longer hated the man. He felt, if anything, some small sympathy for him.

Ransome glared back.

Dave smiled. Curiously enough, it was a sincere smile, warm and not unfriendly.

Ransome’s eyes burned with almost palpable hatred. “Are you ready to get it on now, Elliot. Come on, man, come on. I can hardly wait to see what kind of twisted shit is on your mind.”

Dave’s smile widened. He lifted his voice, making sure that the men on the roof could hear him. “What’s on my
mind, pal? Kisses are on my mind. That’s all. Just kisses and little love bites.”

As David Elliot lowered Marge Cohen out of a shattered second story window, above him, distant but quite clear, he heard Ransome insane with terror and keening in the night.