Time Bomb Read Online Free PDF Page A

until they’re sure they’ve got the big picture. Bud’s on his way downtown right now to give a formal statement. If we’re all lucky, things’ll clear up soon after that.” To Ahlward: “Bud, soon as you get the green light vis-à-vis informational flow, make sure these good folks get anything they want. Immediately. Understood?”
    “You bet,” said Ahlward.
    Latch nodded. Ahlward returned to the group.
    “Thank God for Bud,” said Latch, loud enough for the group to hear. Someone patted Ahlward on the back. The redheaded man appeared unmoved. Standing with the others but not one of them. A distant look had settled on his face—Zen placid, as if he’d projected himself to another place, another time. Not a hint that he’d spent his lunch hour shooting someone to death.
    “Okay, my friends,” said Latch, taking a step backward. “It’s been a long day that shows no sign of ending. Dr. Overstreet, if you need anything, bypass the red tape and come straight to me. I mean it. Let’s get things on an even keel, once and for all. Dr. Delaware, sounds like the kids are in good hands, but you, too, feel free to get in touch if there’s anything I can do.”
    He reached into his jacket, removed some business cards from a leather holder, and gave them to us. A two-handed grasp of Linda’s hand, then mine, and he was gone.
    Linda crumpled the card. Her face had tightened.
    I said, “What’s the matter?”
    “Suddenly he’s Mr. Helpful,” she said, “but last spring, when the kids were being put through hell, I tried to get his help. Ocean Heights is part of his district, even though I’m sure he didn’t get too many votes here. I thought because of his reputation, all the civil rights stuff he used to be into, he’d come down, talk to the kids, show them someone with power was on their side. If for no other reason than to use it for public relations. I must have called his office half a dozen times. Not even a return call.”
    “He came down today. To square off against Massengil.”
    “Some kind of ulterior motive, no doubt. They’re all the same.” She blushed. “Listen to me. You must think I’m a foursquare ballbuster.”
    “You might very well be,” I said, “but I’d have to study you under more optimal circumstances in order to be able to come to a conclusion vis-à-vis that issue.”
    She opened her mouth, then broke into laughter. The cop down the hall pretended not to hear.
     
    The classroom was large and bright and filled with an unaccustomed silence. Only the rain broke the quiet, sloshing against the windows in an insistent car-wash rhythm. Twenty pairs of eyes stared back at me.
    I said, “I’m the kind of doctor who doesn’t give shots. I don’t look in kids’ eyes or ears, either.” Pause. “What I do is
talk
with kids and
play
with them. You guys like to play, don’t you?”
    A few blinks.
    “What kinds of games do you like to play?”
    Silence.
    “How about ball? Any of you like to play ball?”
    Nods.
    “Handball?”
    An Asian boy with a soup-bowl haircut said, “Base-ball.”
    “Baseball,” I said. “What position do you play?”
    “Pitch. Soccer and football and basketball too.”
    “Jumpin’ rope” said a girl.
    “Pizza Party,” said the Asian boy.
    “That’s a board game,” explained the teacher. A stylish black woman in her forties, she’d relinquished her desk to me with eagerness, pulled a chair into a corner, and sat, hands folded, like a punished student. “We have that here in class. We have lots of board games, don’t we, class?”
    “I like to be mushrooms,” said the Asian boy.
    “Peppers,” said another boy, small-boned, with long, wavy hair. “Hot peppers.
Muy caliente!”
    Giggles.
    I said, “Okay. What other board games do you like to play?”
    “Checkers.”
    “Chutes and Ladders!”
    “Checkers!”
    “I already said that!”
    “Chinese
checkers!”
    “
You
Chinese”
    “No way.