Cat's Cradle Read Online Free PDF Page A

unbelievers among the deputies.
    Dan described Jimmy and told his men, “Find him. When you find him, not if, when, don’t try to take him alone. Call for help. I mean that. I don’t want any hotdogs lone-wolfing it this night. And for God’s sake, don’t touch him. Repeating that: Don’t touch him. Just call in his location and stand back, keeping an eye on him. Move out!”
    When the deputies had gone, Dan sat in the room housing the hospital’s radio equipment. He would monitor from there. He looked up as boot-heels echoed hollow in the hall. Sergeant Scott Langway of the Virginia Highway Patrol stepped into the room.
    “Dan,” the patrolman said. “I got here as soon as I could. Big pileup east of here, right on the county line. Nobody seriously hurt, but traffic was backed up for two miles. What’s going on?”
    “I’ll let Doctor Ramsey brief you.”
    Doctor Ramsey brought the patrolman up-to-date, speaking quickly, but leaving nothing out. When he had finished, the highway cop stood very still for a full ten count. He looked at Dan, then at Quinn.
    “Is either of you putting me on?” he asked.
    “It’s no joke, Scott,” Dan said.
    “I want to see this man.”
    “Come with me,” Quinn said.
    Dan had no desire to view the mummy-looking man again. He used that time to call his wife. Her days married to a field agent with the FBI had stayed with her. She asked no questions. Just said she’d put a plate of food in the fridge for him to have when he got home.
    “Stay safe,” she said, then hung up.
    Dan sat down at a table and looked at the paper cup of cold coffee in front of him. He tried very hard not to think of the horrible possibilities of this . . . this situation. Tried, but failed.
    And as every cop with any time behind a badge at all has thought at one time or another, Dan thought: Why me? Why here? Why on my beat? Why?
    And as always, there was no satisfying answer.
    * * *
    Jimmy came awake to cold numbing fear and white hot pain. He looked at his mangled arm. Blood seeped past the tightly bound stump. The severed arm, from the elbow down, lay on the ground, a shriveled ugly thing. It made Jimmy want to puke just looking at the thing. He couldn’t believe he’d actually had the courage to do it.
    But now what? And what in God’s name had he dreamed?
    He sat up. He was weak, but not as weak as he thought he’d be. His arm-what was left of it—hurt like hell; but it was bearable. He looked up as headlights swept the parking area of the mine site. The car crunched over gravel and slid to a halt.
    “Freeze!” the voice shouted from behind the blazing headlights. “Don’t move.”
    Jimmy raised his bloody stump. “It’s okay, now,” he called. “I cut it off.”
    “Jumpin’ Jesus!” the deputy said. He fumbled for his mike, found it, dropped it out of shaky fingers, and picked it up again and called in. His voice broke. He hated, it that his voice was so shaky. He couldn’t help that. God, the nut case had whacked off his own arm. The young deputy felt like tossing his supper.
    “Stay right there,” Dan instructed his deputy. “I’m on my way.”
    In less than five minutes, a half dozen cars and one ambulance ground to a halt in the gravel of the parking lot. In one of the cars, behind the wheel, sat a still-badly shaken Sergeant Langway of the VHP. He had viewed the dead engineer. In a lot of ways, he wished he had not.
    Masked, gloved men approached Jimmy, sitting on the gravel, his back to a pickup.
    “Did I do the right thing, Doc?” Jimmy asked, his voice just audible. He was in shock, and losing ground.
    The now flat-topped mountain loomed dark behind the men.
    “I’m sure you did, son,” Quinn said, his voice slightly muffled behind his mask. He looked at the dead, shriveled arm and hand on the gravel. “Get that,” he told a medic. “And be careful.”
    Dan’s radio began squawking metallically. Dan stilled the tinny sounds.
    “All units to tach,” the