Read Repairman Jack [05]-Hosts for Free Online Page B

nodded. "Go on. You know the difference between a revolver and an automatic?"
    "It looked like an automatic. I saw him pull back the slide before he started toward the killer, but…"
    "But what?"
    "Maybe it wasn't working right because he pulled the slide back before every shot."
    "I'll be damned!" said the lone uniform. "Could be a Semmerling."
    "A what?" McCann said.
    "Semmerling LM-4. Supposedly the world's smallest .45. Saw one at a gun show once. Would have picked it up if I'd had the dough. Looks like a semi-auto—has the slide and all—but it's really just a repeater."
    "How small?" McCann wanted to know. He was looking Sandy's way.
    Sandy tried to remember. "Everything happened so fast… but I think"—he straightened his fingers and placed his palm against his hip—"I think I could cover it with my hand."
    McCann looked back to the uniform. "That about right?"
    A nod. "I'd say so."
    "Sounds like a stupid piece to me," the black detective said.
    "Not if you want maximum stopping power in a little package."
    "C'mere," McCann said to Sandy, motioning him to follow.
    Sandy stayed right on the big detective's heels. Oh, yes. This was just what he'd been hoping for.
    But when they came upon the killer's corpse he wasn't so sure. Close up like this he could see that the man's shoulder wounds were worse than he'd thought. And his face… the right eye socket was a bloody hole and the remaining eye was bulging half out of its socket… his face was all swollen… in fact his head seemed half again its normal size.
    Be careful what you wish for, Sandy thought, averting his gaze as stomach acid pushed to the back of his throat.
    He swallowed and looked again at the corpse. What a photo that would make. He felt in his pocket for the mini-Olympus he always carried. Did he dare?
    "Hey, Kastner," McCann said to the gloved man leaning over the killer. "Your best guess on the caliber—and I won't hold you to it."
    "Don't have to guess. If these wounds aren't from a .45, I'm in the wrong biz."
    McCann nodded. "Okay. So our second shooter wanders around with something called a Semmerling LM-4 strapped to his ankle."
    "Not exactly government issue," the black detective grunted. "And hey, if the crazy was hit with a .45, how come his brains aren't splattered all over the car?"
    "Because the second shooter was using frangibles," Kastner the forensics man said.
    "Whoa!" said the uniform.
    "Frangibles?" Sandy asked. "What's a frangible?"
    "A bullet that breaks up into pieces after it hits."
    " Lots of pieces that bounce all over," Kastner commented. "They're going to find puree du brain when they crack this guy's cranium."
    McCann turned to the black detective. "Which brings us back to what I said before, Rawlins: an execution."
    With McCann not looking, Sandy had his chance. Carefully he wormed his camera out of his pocket and pointed it toward the corpse. He couldn't risk a flash but the lights looked bright enough. He covered the flash with a thumb. A quick glance showed Rawlins and the others facing McCann.
    "Doin' a crazy who's just blown away half a dozen good people and on track to do a dozen or two more?" Rawlins said, pursing his lips and shaking his head. "That's not an execution, that's putting down a mad dog. That's steppin' on a cockroach."
    Keeping his face toward the cops, Sandy held the camera at hip level and started shooting.
    "Maybe," McCann was saying. "But I like to know who's doing the stepping."
    After half a dozen quick frames Sandy slipped the camera back into his pocket. He was sweating. He felt as if he'd just done a two-mile sprint.
    "Easy enough in this case," Rawlins said, breaking into a grin. "We just roust all the average-height-medium-built-brown-haired white guys in the five boroughs and check their ankles for holsters."
    "We'll find him," McCann said. "Guy does something like this, saves a carload of lives, he thinks he's a hero. He's gonna tell someone. No way he'll be able to keep his yap shut. And