Chapter 38 Chapter Thirty-Seven

The hall was full of police.It was 6:30, and the police officers who were on duty outdoors had just been replaced; according to the regulations, they changed positions every two hours.It was a cold and cold evening, and these people came in from the outside and warmed their hands next to a few electric heaters. Several of them had placed bets on the ongoing Memphis state basketball game, eager to know how the game was going. Captain Tate was not allowed to play the radio loudly in the hall, but one of the officers stuck a Walkman in his ear and reported the score now and then, but not often enough to satisfy the bettors.

There were fifteen armed policemen in the hall, plus two correctional officers, ready to relieve Pembry and Boyle at seven o'clock.Captain Tate himself was looking forward to getting off work. His shift was from eleven o'clock to seven o'clock. All posts reported to be safe and sound.None of the calls from fanatics to intimidate Lecter have come to fruition. At six forty-five, Tate heard the sound of the elevator going up.He saw the brass arrows above the elevator doors begin to move along the dial.At five characters, it stopped. Tate looked around the hall. "Did Sweeney go upstairs to collect the dishes?"

"No, I'm here, Captain. Can you call and see if they're all right? I'm getting ready to go." Captain Tate dialed three numbers.he listens. "The phone line is busy." He said, "Go up and have a look." He turned back and continued to write down his shift from ten o'clock to seven o'clock in the duty log book. Patrolman Sweeney pressed the elevator button.The elevator didn't come down. "Must have lamb chops tonight, that's a rarity!" said Sweeney. "Who knows what he's going to have for breakfast, some bird from the zoo?"Who will arrest him?It's not me Sweeney! "

The copper arrow above the elevator door is still on the five characters. Sweeney waited another five minutes. "What the hell is going on?" he said. From somewhere above them the sound of a .38 revolver echoed down the stone stairwell, two quick shots, then a third. Captain Tate was on his feet when the third shot was heard.He picked up the microphone. "Command post, someone fired on the tower. Watch out for vigilance. Let's go up!" There was shouting and shouting in the hall, and there was chaos. At this time, Tate saw that the copper arrow of the elevator moved again, and it had already descended to the fourth floor.Tate yelled loudly, his voice was louder than the noise: "Don't yell! The outside guard doubles the police force, and the first officer follows me. If the bird elevator comes down, Bailey and Howard will hold guns!" The pointer is on the three characters again stopped.

"First Squad, let's go. Check every door. Bobby, go out and get a machine gun and a bulletproof vest." Up the first flight of stairs; Tate's mind was racing.He desperately needed to help the officers get upstairs, and at the same time he had to be very vigilant.God, don't let him out!Nobody's wearing a bulletproof vest, damn it!Fuck your grandma's correctional guard! The offices on the second, third, and fourth floors are supposed to be locked by no one. If you pass through these offices, you can go down from the top of the tower to the main part of these floors.But not on the fifth floor.

Tate had gone to the excellent Tennessee SWAT school and knew how to do it.He took a few young people to the front.They climbed the stairs, moving swiftly and cautiously, covering each other from one landing to the next. "Every time you check a door, turn your back on it first, or I'll stab your asshole!" Part of it was hollowed out, his face was chopped into pieces, his blood seemed to have erupted in the cell, the walls and Little bits and pieces were splashed all over the washed-up bed. Jacobs ran his fingers over Boyle's neck. "This one's dead." He raised his voice over the music, "Captain?"

Embarrassed that he had lost his mind for a moment, Tate regained his senses and said into the radio, "Command post, two officers down, repeat, two officers down. Prisoner missing .Lecter is missing. Outside sentry watch windows, subject has snatched sheets, possibly making rope. Must send an ambulance on the way immediately." "Is Pembry dead, Captain?" Jacobs turned off the music. Tate knelt down and was about to reach out to touch Pembry's neck, when the hideous fellow lying on the floor suddenly groaned and blew a blood bubble. "Pembry's alive!" Tate didn't want to stick his mouth into the gore, though he knew he had to do that to help Pembry breathe.He also knew he wouldn't want a patrolman to do it.Pembry was not as good as dead, but he still had to help him breathe.But Pembry had a heartbeat, he found it, and breath, uneven and grunting, but breathing anyway.Man is destroyed, yet he still breathes by his own strength.

Tate's wireless phone rang.A patrol lieutenant came to the scene outside the building to take command. He wanted to listen to the situation report.Tate had to speak to him. "Come here, Murray," Tate called to a young patrolman. "You guard Pembry here. Grab him and let him feel your hands on his body. Talk to him. " "What's his name, Captain?" Murray was a novice. "Pembry, you talk to him now, damn it!" Tate picked up the wireless phone. "Two officers down, Boyle dead, Pembry badly wounded. Lecter missing, armed - he took their guns. Arm belt and holster on table."

Through the walls, the lieutenant's voice sounded rustling. "Can you ensure that the stairs are unobstructed for the stretcher to go up?" The doors on the second-floor landing were dark and locked. They had reached the third floor by this time.The small hallway is very dark.The door of the elevator car was open, casting a rectangle of light on the floor.Tate moved along the wall opposite the open elevator car, which had no mirrors to help him see what was going on inside.He was pulling the nine-pound trigger with two pounds of pressure, looking into the elevator car with the gun, ready to fire.Kong Yuan alone.

Tate yelled upstairs, "Boyle! Pembry! Shit!" He left one man on guard on the third floor and continued up. The fourth floor is filled with the sound of pianos coming down from above.The office door swung open.Beyond the office a long ray of light shone upon an open door leading to the great dark building in the distance. "Boyle! Pembry!" He left the two of them guarding the landing. "Aim for the door. The bulletproof vest will be there in a minute. Don't point your asshole at the door!" Tate climbed the stone stairs into the music space.He was now at the top of the tower, on the landing of the fifth floor.The short corridors were dimly lit.Brilliant lights filtered through the frosted glass to reflect the words "Shelby County Historical Society".

Tate lowered himself from under the glass door to the side opposite the door hinges.He nodded to Jacobs on the other side, then turned the doorknob and pushed hard, and the door swung back completely, so heavy that the glass almost shattered.Tate dodges quickly; away from the doorframe, aiming his revolver at everything within range of the room. Tate had seen many things.He had seen countless accidents, had seen fights, murders.At one point, he witnessed the death of six police officers.But he thought that what was under his feet was the worst scene he had ever seen happen to a police officer.The part above the collar of the uniform no longer looks like a face.The front and top of the head was a gooey mess of blood, the muscles torn and peaked upwards, and a single eye stuck to its nostril, its socket filled with blood. Jacobs walked past Tate, slipping on the bloody floor as he entered the cell.He leaned down to see Boyle, still handcuffed to the table leg.boyle's guts "Yes, sir. Give them a shout to the fourth floor as they go by. I've got men on the landings of every floor." "Understood, Captain. The No. 8 post here outside here thinks he saw a little movement behind the windows of the fourth main building, and the exits have been blocked by us, so he can't escape. Guard every landing of yours, the special police have It's driving over, we'll have the SWAT come and rush him out. Make that clear." "I understand, let the special police do it." "What's on him?" "Two pistols and a knife, Lieutenant-Jacobs, see if there is any ammunition in the belt." "I'll take the box out and see," said the patrolman. "Pembry's is still full, and so is Boyle's. Damn idiot didn't take the rest of the rounds." "What bullet?" "Add PsJHP type for 0.38o diameter." Tate picked up the radio again. "Lieutenant, it looks like he has two .38s, six rounds each, we heard three rounds fired, the box on the belt is still full, so he probably only has nine rounds left .Remind the special police that the bullet is a Ps type, a hollow pointed bullet with a metal casing. This guy prefers to hit the face." The Ps-type bullets are extremely lethal, but they cannot penetrate the special police's body armor.However, a blow to the face is likely to be fatal, and a blow to the limbs is crippling. "Here comes the stretcher, Tate." The ambulances were there with alarming speed, but, listening to the poor man's groans at his feet, it seemed to Tate that they were not coming quickly enough.Young Murray managed to hold the groaning, twitching body up, trying to say comforting words to him but ignoring him.He said:. "You're fine, Pembry, you're looking fine." Over and over, the tone was always weak. Seeing the paramedics in the ambulance on the landing, Tate yelled, as in war, "Stretchers!" He grabbed Murray by the shoulders and pushed him aside so he wouldn't get in the way.The paramedics in the ambulance moved quickly. They skillfully tied up the blood-stained and greasy two tightly clenched fists with tape, inserted them into the airway, and peeled off a roll of non-stick surgical bandages tied to the blood-stained fists. Press on the face to stop the bleeding. One of them tore open a bag of plasma with a pop to prepare for intravenous infusion, but the other, after measuring his blood pressure and pulse, shook his head and said, "Go downstairs first." " Then came the order from the wireless phone: "Tate, I want you to clear all the offices in the tower and seal them off. Lock the doors in the main building and take cover on the landing. I'll give you Send up the bulletproof vest and the machine gun. If he wants to come out, we'll take him alive, but we don't have to take any special risks to keep him alive, understand me?" "Understood, Lieutenant." "In the main building, I only want to keep the special police, only the special police, and no one else: tell me again." Tate repeated the lieutenant's order. Tate was a good police squad leader, and it showed when he and Jacobs raised their arms and shrugged into their thick bulletproof vests;The second group followed Boyle's stretcher downstairs.Watching the two gurneys go by, the people on the landing were furious, and Tate had a kind word for them: "Don't be angry and get spanked!" Outside, sirens wailed.Under the cover of veteran Jacobs, Tate carefully cleared all the offices, and then sealed the tower. A cool breeze blows through the corridor on the fourth floor.Beyond the door, in the large, dark space of the main building, all the phones were ringing.In the dark offices of the entire building, the switches on the telephones flickered like fireflies, and the bell rang, over and over again. The news that Dr. Lecter was "blocked" in the building spread, and radio and television reporters quickly dialed the number of the modulator to call in, trying to conduct a live interview with the demon.In order to avoid such a situation, the special police usually cut off all the phones, leaving only one for negotiation.The building is too big, and the offices are too big. In the room with the telephone, as long as the indicator light on the machine was flashing, Tate closed and locked the door, wearing a hard shell-like bulletproof vest, his chest and back were wet and itchy. He took the wireless phone off his belt. "Command post, this is Tate, tower cleared. Over." "Understood, Tate. The captain wants you to go to the command post." "Yes! Balcony, is there anyone there?" "Yes, Captain." "I'm in the elevator, getting off." "Understood, Captain." Jacobs and Tate were riding the elevator down the hall when suddenly a drop of blood landed on Tate's shoulder and another on his shoe. He looked to the top of the elevator car and touched Jacobs to signal him to be quiet. Blood was dripping from the cracks around the access hatch at the top of the elevator car.The elevator seemed to take a long time to get down to the lobby.Tate and Jacobs aimed their guns at the top of the elevator and flinched out.Tate reached back to the elevator and locked the car. "Hush—" Tate whispered in the lobby, "Berry, Howard, he's on the top of the elevator, keep an eye on it!" Tate came outside the building.A black police car has arrived at the scene.The special police always have all kinds of keys to open the elevator. In a moment they will be ready.Two SWAT officers in black body armor and headsets climbed the stairs to the third-floor landing.The other two were in the lobby with Tate, aiming assault rifles at the top of the elevator. It's like giant ants fighting, Tate thought. The SWAT commander said to the microphone on his head, "Do it, Johnny." On the third floor, above the elevator, Officer Johnny Peterson put the key in the lock and turned it, and the elevator door slid open.The elevator shaft was dark and rumbling.He lay on his back on the ground in the corridor, took out a stun grenade from his tactical bulletproof vest and placed it on the floor beside him. "Okay, I'll take a look now." He took out a mirror with a long handle and stuck it to the edge of the elevator shaft, and his companion held a powerful flashlight to shine down the elevator shaft. "I saw him, on the top of the elevator, there was a weapon by his side, and he was not moving." Peterson heard the question in his earphones: Can you see his hands? " "Saw one and the other was under him. He was wrapped in a sheet." "Shout to him!" "Hands on top of head!" Peterson yelled down the elevator shaft. "He didn't move, Lieutenant, . . . all right." "If you don't put your hands above your head I'll throw the stun hand down. I'll give you three seconds," Peterson yelled.From his bulletproof vest, he took out a door stopper that every SWAT officer carries with him. "Okay, brethren, pay attention below—the hands are coming!" He threw the doorstop over the edge and saw it bounce on the man. "He didn't move, Lieutenant." "Okay, Johnny, let's poke up the maintenance port with the pole from the outside of the elevator car. Can you hit the target down there?" Peterson rolled over on his side.His .45 caliber automatic was cocked, the safety locked, and he aimed straight down at the figure. "The target can be hit," he said. Peterson looked down the elevator shaft, and he saw a ray of light. It was the SWAT team in the hall holding a pole with a hook at the end, poking up the access cover.The figure was motionless, a part of his body was hanging above the inspection hatch, and when the police officers poked under it, he moved an arm. Peterson pressed the safety catch on the Colt a little harder with his thumb. "One of his arms moved a bit, Lieutenant, but I think it was the access cover that moved it." "Got it. Poke hard!" The manhole cover fell down with a bang, and stuck to the wall of the elevator shaft.The light below was too bright for Peterson to see. "He has not moved, he has no weapon in his hands." A calm voice came from his ear: "Okay, Johnny, hold on tight. Let's go into the elevator car, look in the mirror and watch for movement. We're the ones who start the fire, understand?" "clear." In the hall, Tate watched them enter the elevator car.A rifleman armed with armor-piercing rounds aimed his weapon at the roof of the elevator.Another officer climbed a ladder, armed with a large automatic pistol with a flashlight screwed tight beneath it.A mirror and the flashlighted gun went up the manhole first, followed by the officer's head and shoulders.He handed down a .38 caliber revolver. "He's dead," the officer called down. Tate wondered if Dr. Lecter's death meant Catherine Martin was going to die too; as soon as the light in the demon's heart went out, all information disappeared. The police officers were pulling him down now, and the body passed headfirst through the elevator manhole, slowly descending and falling into many arms, in the brightly lit elevator car, as if being lowered from a cross Jesus, very grotesque.There were more and more people in the hall, and the policemen crowded together to take a closer look. A correctional officer pushed the crowd to the front, and he saw tattoos on the outstretched arms of the corpse. "Isn't this Pembry?" he said.