The Dreeson Incident(177)

The deadline had come and the deadline had gone. This was their fourth appearance at the licensing window over the past two weeks.



At the moment Christin was predicting that the person behind the counter, if that person ever took notice of their presence, would insist that they needed some other item which had unfortunately been omitted from the public notice published in the newspapers, that nobody had told them about on their prior appearances, and with which they would have to return another day. Which would mean that they would all have to pay a fine for being tardy and would not legally be allowed to ride for several days until they got the mess straightened out, at which time some incompetent clerk would not realize that it had been straightened out and send them a bill for a another fine, which would require another visit to the Department of Internal Affairs.



The person behind the counter, who this morning happened to be Arnold Bellamy's daughter Amy, waved from behind the barrier, cheerfully calling out to Missy that she would get to them in no time.



That was when someone down the hall started screaming. The five of them turned and ran, followed by Amy, who leapfrogged over the counter.



Consular Affairs. Christin had been last when they left the queue, but somehow she was first through the door. She took a running leap, landed with her arms around the man's neck like a spitting cat, and began to kick the backs of his knees and jam her knees into his kidneys while letting her full, if not very impressive, weight press against his windpipe.



Ron paused a moment in surprised admiration. When it came to plain old dirty fighting, of no particular style, Denise's mother was no slouch at all. She could probably open up a martial arts studio of sorts. Then he reached over her head, grabbed the man by his hair, and yanked backwards.





Missy thought of trying a tackle, but didn't. She had a feeling that she was too likely to get hit by Christin's flailing feet.



The man had a knife. Amy reached up and handed Denise a vase of dried flowers that was on top of the filing cabinet. Denise brought it down hard on that hand. The man yowled, turned, and ran out into the corridor, jerking away from Ron and bowling over the security guard who was running up the stairs.



Christin dropped off his back. "Damn," she said. "That guy is strong." She ran after him, Ron following.



Missy thought vaguely that she probably ought to chase him too. Instead, she dropped onto her knees. "Clara, are you all right?"



Clara Bachmeierin crawled out from under the desk. "Yes. I would not let him hurt my baby. I drop under the desk onto my hands and knees and scream and scream and scream."



"The scream was pretty impressive."



Christin came back saying, "He got away. But not for long or very far, I think. The security guard is calling the cops. What became of the knife?"



"Over here, Mom," Denise said. "That was Bryant Holloway. What is going on?"



Missy's automatic reaction to any question was to try to provide an answer. This was not the best orientation for a covert operative, as Don Francisco had concluded to his sorrow. In this instance, preoccupied with getting Clara back on her feet and making sure that she was in fact uninjured, she covered the essentials in four or five pungent, cogent sentences.



The only part that really interested Denise was Holloway's involvement in setting up the distraction at the hospital that drew the police away from the synagogue on March fourth.



Ron came back, following Christin. "Missy," he said. "That's, ah, privileged data."



"It's just us. And Clara knows anyway."



"There's going to be practically dozens of people here any minute. Uh . . ."



"I," Christin said, "am going to get back in line to get the drivers' licenses. Amy will go back and issue them. Right now. Denise and Minnie will come with me. And Amy will give me yours and Missy's as well as ours. It's an ill wind that blows nobody good. We weren't here, anyway."



"Ah," Amy started to protest. Then she decided it would be better to say, "Yes, ma'am."



So by the time the police arrived, those four were back at the other end of the corridor, inside another door. With Minnie writing up detailed notes concerning an event at which she had not been present, officially speaking.



And Clara was asking, "What about Lenore? If he comed—came—to hurt me, what about Lenore?"





"There isn't any answer," Missy said.



"Maybe he didn't come here," Ron said. "The garage door is open."



"That doesn't make any difference. Bryant and Lenore don't have a car. Not even bicycles. She walks everywhere and he uses fire department vehicles when they send him out of town."