Chapter 23

The park was pretty easy to find ... although they were sure Central Park was in New York City. This one was one block of dead grass and weak, sickly trees, with a few splintery picnic tables and those old fashioned grills on a pipe. At one of the other tables were some rough looking kids.

Wendy took her watch out of her pocket and set it on the table.

"David? Would you please get the black zippered notebook from between the seats in my Ford?" Wendy was uneasy about the other table.

David walked back and picked up the notebook, 'surprisingly heavy, ' he thought. Never the less Wendy wanted it. He walked back.

Wendy took the notebook and unzipped it, she slid her hand inside. 'David. Dial 91 and get ready to dial the other one, please. I've been scanning the kids at the table and they're up to no good.'

Willy and Billy were clueless, typical 1960's small town flower children with trust in their hearts and love for their fellowman. Willy tossed the overstuffed canvas bag on the table and began to untie it.

Billy said, "I wonder what's in the bag?"

At the other table the boys stood and one of them said, "Yeah ... what's in the bag, bitch?"

'Dial.' David pushed the last one.

Wendy put her other hand in the black book. From the notebook there came a sound that sounded a lot like a slide being drawn back and the slam of it going into battery.

"911 What is your emergency?"

"We're about to be assaulted by four men in Central Park in Shamrock, Texas."

"Has anything happened yet?"

"Not yet."

"911 is for emergencies. If nothing has happened, get off the line. Call the police if you imagine you're in danger."

"Operator? One of the young men has just drawn a knife."

"If he stabs someone call 911, otherwise get off the line." CLICK.

"Sorry, Wendy. They only respond to after the fact emergencies."

'It's ok, David. While the connection was open, I scanned the operator. The boy with the knife is her son and she knows very well what's going to happen. They've done it before. I guess it's up to me.'

The knife wielder grabbed Willy and put his arm with the knife hand around her throat. The knife wasn't against her throat, just close.

"Hit redial, David."

"911. What is your emergency?"

"Your son is about to be shot. It hasn't happened yet. Should we hang up and call the police?"

The knife wielder got this violent, crazy look and shouted, "Give me the bag or I'll slit her throat!"

Wendy said, "911 operator? Do you have your recorder on? We have ours going.

It hasn't happened yet ... as soon as he moves his hand, I'm going to shoot him right between the eyes and splatter his brains all over his buddies. I hope you're recording this, it's going to look awfully bad when the Troopers get here and you don't have this call recorded. Oops, the Troopers are here. All bets are off. Hang up, David."

Behind them, it was their friendly lady trooper leaned up against her car with an M-4 trained on the knife guy.

"Fuck it! Let me out of here or I'll kill her." His hand moved.

BANG!

The back of a head dissolved before my eyes. The three toughs behind him were suddenly red faced ... and red tee shirted ... caught red handed ... So to speak.