A Steele Between Two Thorns - Part Thirty-Six
Steele stroked his chin nervously and twisted the volume dial on the microphone receiver. Mildred reached out and turned it back.
“Too loud,” she said apologetically. “Everything’s okay so far, Boss.”
He nodded and went back to listening as Laura’s voice, clear and confident, came floating into the van. “How are you liking Los Angeles?” He hoped she wouldn’t spend too long getting to the point. As he waited, he gently ran his hand over the pocket in which the agency gun was tucked, fully loaded.
Quite suddenly, he heard her ask, “How did you know he was innocent?” He froze, ears alert, ready to spring into action if necessary.
A construction worker across the street started his jackhammer, causing both Steele and Mildred to clap their hands over their ears.
“Damn!” Steele shouted, though he couldn’t hear himself over the racket. “Laura!”
Mildred leapt out of the vehicle and waddled across the road making violent motions with her arms to get the workman’s attention. When at last he saw her, he merely gestured warningly to his own earmuffs and carried on hammering. It took a swift kick in the shins before he finally dropped his tool.
Steele, meanwhile, pressed his ear to the receiver, desperately trying to hear what was happening in Peterson’s living room. Even after the noise from the jackhammer ceased, it took him a minute to realize that his carefully placed microphone was no longer transmitting.
“Laura!” he moaned, jumping out of the van and sprinting around the corner. The door had been locked. Steele threw his shoulder against it three times before it fell in and he ran to the living room.
Peterson had Laura pinned to the couch, her wrists held tightly in his fists as he tried to kiss her. Steele let out an angry yell and pulled him off, punching him soundly in the stomach. He reached for the gun. Peterson saw this, however, and dodged the bullet by lunging forward. Steele dropped the gun as Peterson knocked him to the ground.
They wrestled frantically, Steele throwing punch after punch at his opponent, who seemed quite capable of matching him. As Peterson hit him hard under the ribs, winding him completely and sending him reeling backwards, another shot rang through the room. Peterson let out an agonizing cry and crumpled, clutching his leg. Behind him, Laura’s hands shook as she dropped the agency gun.
“Too loud,” she said apologetically. “Everything’s okay so far, Boss.”
He nodded and went back to listening as Laura’s voice, clear and confident, came floating into the van. “How are you liking Los Angeles?” He hoped she wouldn’t spend too long getting to the point. As he waited, he gently ran his hand over the pocket in which the agency gun was tucked, fully loaded.
Quite suddenly, he heard her ask, “How did you know he was innocent?” He froze, ears alert, ready to spring into action if necessary.
A construction worker across the street started his jackhammer, causing both Steele and Mildred to clap their hands over their ears.
“Damn!” Steele shouted, though he couldn’t hear himself over the racket. “Laura!”
Mildred leapt out of the vehicle and waddled across the road making violent motions with her arms to get the workman’s attention. When at last he saw her, he merely gestured warningly to his own earmuffs and carried on hammering. It took a swift kick in the shins before he finally dropped his tool.
Steele, meanwhile, pressed his ear to the receiver, desperately trying to hear what was happening in Peterson’s living room. Even after the noise from the jackhammer ceased, it took him a minute to realize that his carefully placed microphone was no longer transmitting.
“Laura!” he moaned, jumping out of the van and sprinting around the corner. The door had been locked. Steele threw his shoulder against it three times before it fell in and he ran to the living room.
Peterson had Laura pinned to the couch, her wrists held tightly in his fists as he tried to kiss her. Steele let out an angry yell and pulled him off, punching him soundly in the stomach. He reached for the gun. Peterson saw this, however, and dodged the bullet by lunging forward. Steele dropped the gun as Peterson knocked him to the ground.
They wrestled frantically, Steele throwing punch after punch at his opponent, who seemed quite capable of matching him. As Peterson hit him hard under the ribs, winding him completely and sending him reeling backwards, another shot rang through the room. Peterson let out an agonizing cry and crumpled, clutching his leg. Behind him, Laura’s hands shook as she dropped the agency gun.