Page 107 of At Midnight Comes the Cry
The college-aged boys who had accompanied him hurried to reach him, identical stupefied looks on their faces.
“C’mon, you cowards!” Mr. Schlesinger jabbed the tip of his cane into the floor. “Do you want to live forever?”
“Opa!” one of the boys protested.
Russ gently turned the old man toward him, so they were face-to-face. “Sir.” Russ straightened into parade position. “As a fellow veteran, I thank you. But you’ve done your service. We’ll do ours.” He saluted—contrary to military etiquette, but the gesture drew the elderly man upright for a moment before he shakily returned the honor.
“Dad!” A well-dressed woman in her fifties hurried up. “Dad, what are you doing?” She shot a look at the boys.
“It’s not our fault, Mom!”
“We tried to stop him.”
“Your father still has a lot of fighting spirit.” Rabbi Jess smiled. “I can’t blame him for wanting to help get us out of here.”
The woman looked at them as if they were all wayward children. “Haven’t any of you considered the handicap entrance?”
There was a pause.
She shook her head. “Of course not. No one thinks of the handicap entrance. And it’s not well marked, either, more shame to the architects. Dad, stay here with the boys.” She shooed her way through the crowd, Clare and Russ and their crew trailing in her wake. “Here.” What had looked like another alcove flanking the stairways running up to the street and down to the museum was revealed as a narrow corridor. “You walk all the way down until you reach the elevator. It takes you up to Madison Avenue on the other side of the plaza.”
“It opens onto the plaza?” Russ, for the first time since they had arrived here, sounded hopeful.
“No, you walk out on the sidewalk. Let me draw you a map, it’s easier than trying to explain it.”
They followed her to one of the folding tables. She rummaged through her purse and pulled out a Sharpie, and began sketching right on the tablecloth. Russ bent over to follow along.
“See? Here.” She pointed. “And here.”
He straightened. Turned to Clare. His eyes were alight. “If we’re quiet and careful?” He actually smiled. “We can get these people out of here.”
11.
“What if one of the militia creeps notices?” Rabbi Jess stood, arms akimbo, looking very unhappy with the plan Russ had just outlined.
“We’re going to send at least one armed person up with every group.” Despite wanting to scream,Hurry! Hurry!Clare tried to keep her tone even.
“I don’t mean the ones up in the crane. I figure if it comes to it, you can take potshots at them. From the door where that poor ranger and the young girl tried to leave.”
“That’s not… the ideal scenario.” Russ was using his diplomatic voice. Which wasn’t all that diplomatic.
“I mean the one hiding in that corridor. The one who tried to shoot you three times when you wanted to talk to him.” She pointed toward the north concourse. “What if he’s not alone? What if they sneak a peek and see us disappearing into the handicap access? What’s going to stop him from sending the signal and”—she dropped her voice so the groups of people clustered around them couldn’t hear—“setting off every bomb down here. And, by the way, we don’t have any idea how many of them there are.” Johnson opened her mouth. “Yes. Yes. I understand you think they’re waiting until the cops and the TV cameras get here. But if the choice is publicity or killing us, which one do you think they’re going to choose?”
“What if…” Kevin paused.
“Go on,” Russ said.
“What if we spun the exhibit cases around and lined them up across the floor?”
Rabbi Jess gave him a look. “I don’t think some wood, glass, and artifacts are going to stop high-powered-rifle bullets.”
“No, not for protection. For cover. If we went from the wall as far across as we could, it would look like we were trying to shelter behind them.”
Russ nodded. “Meanwhile, people are disappearing right under their noses. I like it.”
“We could also start moving the bombs farther up the concourse.” Hadley gestured to the nearest pile of faux presents. “Replace the armed ones with harmless boxes, and leapfrog the explosives farther and farther away from us.”
“Let’s do it. Johnson, Khalil, get a couple of men and start moving those cases.” Russ glanced over to where the doctor and EMT were still hovering over Paul. “And a couple more to help bring that table behind the screen.”
