lunch when he passed Doris in the corridor.
‘Oh good, I was looking for you,’ she said. ‘I’m going to give this to Capparel. I’ve made you a copy. It’s my report on the students I spoke to yesterday.’
‘So what came out of it?’
‘Not much, although a lot of them knew about that underground room. They hid down there to smoke – marijuana, most likely. The gunman’s body has been identified, and it’s who we thought, Michael Simmons. One of the kids recognised him by what he was wearing.’
‘Anything else?’
‘That’s all for now.’
Lamar nodded gloomily. Things were not moving along as quickly as he would have liked.
Doris invited him to join her for lunch, and the two of them went down to eat a bowl of pasta at the little restaurant across the road. Lamar talked about the investigation. Doris talked about her date the previous night. Each was engrossed in their own subject.
They left the restaurant at around one o’clock. Lamar was about to cross the road when his cell phone rang. It was Gavensoort.
‘Lieutenant, I’ve got something for you.’
‘What is it?’
‘Come right away – this is big.’
‘Well, tell me then!’
‘I’m telling you, come over here and I’ll show you. I think you’ll be pleased …’
Lamar hung up, shaking his head.
The first snowflakes began to fall.
6
The snow had been falling for ten minutes, getting steadily heavier. Huge flakes filled the Manhattan skyline.
Lamar Gallineo’s car cleared a path through the fleecy white curtain, before slipping into the underground parking garage of an enormous building.
The lieutenant made his way upstairs, where he was met by Professor Gavensoort, wearing another of the bow ties from his legendary collection.
Without any preamble, Gavensoort tugged Lamar’s sleeve and led him through a maze of corridors to a door covered in danger signs and notices warning that ‘Unauthorised entry is forbidden’. Opening it, they entered a pristine shooting gallery. Gavensoort disappeared into the adjoining gun room and emerged carrying a Desert Eagle. He handed the hefty pistol to Lamar.
‘There you go, Lieutenant.’
‘Um, what—’
‘Go ahead, take it. Be careful, though, it’s loaded.’
Lamar did as he was asked, taking the gun in his hands, while Gavensoort went in search of ear protectors and safety goggles.
‘I want you to fire a few bullets at the target back there,’ Gavensoort instructed, putting his ear protectors on.
Lamar gave up trying to fathom what was going on. He adjusted his ear protectors and got in position. He had never fired a weapon as powerful as this before. He pulled the trigger.
The gun lifted up in his hand, spitting out a spray of fire and making an unholy racket. Lamar could feel the impact of the shot right up to his shoulder. His ears were ringing even with the ear protectors.
He hadn’t hit the target, though it was only thirty feet away. He tried again.
Four more bullets spewed from the barrel.
Three hit the white cardboard, two of them in the stomach of the imaginary assailant. Lamar had done better than usual, and he knew he’d been lucky.
Lamar only realised Gavensoort was clapping when he turned round to return the weapon.
‘Not bad!’ the professor joked. ‘So, what do you make of the Desert Eagle?’
‘It’s pretty powerful.’
Gavensoort pointed his finger straight at the detective.
‘Exactly! Just pulling once on the trigger has a huge impact, doesn’t it?’
Lamar nodded.
‘Come with me.’
Gavensoort led him into his office, two doors down the hall. He pointed out a little plastic box on his desk.
Lamar picked it up to inspect its contents. Inside was a tiny scrunched-up piece of fabric, no bigger than the nib of a pen.
‘I found that caught in the trigger slot.’
‘Of which gun?’ asked the detective.
‘The Desert Eagle used in yesterday’s massacre.’
‘So have you worked out what it is?’
Gavensoort stroked his beard, a
‘Oh good, I was looking for you,’ she said. ‘I’m going to give this to Capparel. I’ve made you a copy. It’s my report on the students I spoke to yesterday.’
‘So what came out of it?’
‘Not much, although a lot of them knew about that underground room. They hid down there to smoke – marijuana, most likely. The gunman’s body has been identified, and it’s who we thought, Michael Simmons. One of the kids recognised him by what he was wearing.’
‘Anything else?’
‘That’s all for now.’
Lamar nodded gloomily. Things were not moving along as quickly as he would have liked.
Doris invited him to join her for lunch, and the two of them went down to eat a bowl of pasta at the little restaurant across the road. Lamar talked about the investigation. Doris talked about her date the previous night. Each was engrossed in their own subject.
They left the restaurant at around one o’clock. Lamar was about to cross the road when his cell phone rang. It was Gavensoort.
‘Lieutenant, I’ve got something for you.’
‘What is it?’
‘Come right away – this is big.’
‘Well, tell me then!’
‘I’m telling you, come over here and I’ll show you. I think you’ll be pleased …’
Lamar hung up, shaking his head.
The first snowflakes began to fall.
6
The snow had been falling for ten minutes, getting steadily heavier. Huge flakes filled the Manhattan skyline.
Lamar Gallineo’s car cleared a path through the fleecy white curtain, before slipping into the underground parking garage of an enormous building.
The lieutenant made his way upstairs, where he was met by Professor Gavensoort, wearing another of the bow ties from his legendary collection.
Without any preamble, Gavensoort tugged Lamar’s sleeve and led him through a maze of corridors to a door covered in danger signs and notices warning that ‘Unauthorised entry is forbidden’. Opening it, they entered a pristine shooting gallery. Gavensoort disappeared into the adjoining gun room and emerged carrying a Desert Eagle. He handed the hefty pistol to Lamar.
‘There you go, Lieutenant.’
‘Um, what—’
‘Go ahead, take it. Be careful, though, it’s loaded.’
Lamar did as he was asked, taking the gun in his hands, while Gavensoort went in search of ear protectors and safety goggles.
‘I want you to fire a few bullets at the target back there,’ Gavensoort instructed, putting his ear protectors on.
Lamar gave up trying to fathom what was going on. He adjusted his ear protectors and got in position. He had never fired a weapon as powerful as this before. He pulled the trigger.
The gun lifted up in his hand, spitting out a spray of fire and making an unholy racket. Lamar could feel the impact of the shot right up to his shoulder. His ears were ringing even with the ear protectors.
He hadn’t hit the target, though it was only thirty feet away. He tried again.
Four more bullets spewed from the barrel.
Three hit the white cardboard, two of them in the stomach of the imaginary assailant. Lamar had done better than usual, and he knew he’d been lucky.
Lamar only realised Gavensoort was clapping when he turned round to return the weapon.
‘Not bad!’ the professor joked. ‘So, what do you make of the Desert Eagle?’
‘It’s pretty powerful.’
Gavensoort pointed his finger straight at the detective.
‘Exactly! Just pulling once on the trigger has a huge impact, doesn’t it?’
Lamar nodded.
‘Come with me.’
Gavensoort led him into his office, two doors down the hall. He pointed out a little plastic box on his desk.
Lamar picked it up to inspect its contents. Inside was a tiny scrunched-up piece of fabric, no bigger than the nib of a pen.
‘I found that caught in the trigger slot.’
‘Of which gun?’ asked the detective.
‘The Desert Eagle used in yesterday’s massacre.’
‘So have you worked out what it is?’
Gavensoort stroked his beard, a
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