Free Lieberman's Choice by Stuart M. Kaminsky Page B

bullshit,” shouted Nowitz, putting the sandwich down on one of the embroidered white dining room chairs of Jason Belding, DDS.
    â€œLet me get this straight,” said Giles. “And for the record, Captain. You plan to have some cop go up on that roof pretending he’s a sound man and then pull out a gun and shoot Officer Shepard.”
    â€œIf the opportunity presents itself,” said Kearney;
    Giles looked at Craddock, whose eyes were completely closed, and then at Hanrahan, who seemed to be preoccupied with finding something in his teeth with his tongue. Nowitz, however, was properly incensed.
    â€œIsn’t that putting me and my cameraman in danger?” Janice Giles said. “Shepard could …”
    â€œHe could anyway,” said Kearney. “Our man doesn’t shoot unless he has to. And if he does, you’ve got it all on tape for the news at noon. Take it or …”
    â€œYour man won’t know how to use our equipment,” Giles said.
    â€œHe’s a former movie technician,” said Kearney. “Worked on a Chuck Norris and an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie.”
    â€œWait a minute,” Nowitz bleated, looking at Craddock for support. Craddock didn’t even bother to shrug.
    â€œHe’ll wait till I get my interview before he starts anything?” she asked, ignoring Nowitz.
    Kearney nodded in agreement.
    â€œHold it. Hold it. Hold it,” said Nowitz. “Giles, you dumb bitch. He’s hanging you out. Who’s gonna trust you after this? Your word won’t be worth shit.”
    â€œIs this settled?” asked Craddock, opening his eyes and looking from Janice Giles to Alan Kearney.
    â€œAsk the lady,” said Kearney.
    â€œIt’s settled,” she said. And then she turned to Nowitz.
    â€œNorman, let’s go in the other room and talk.”
    Nowitz moved to the kitchen door and kicked it open. Janice Giles followed him and Craddock went after them leaving Hanrahan and Kearney alone.
    â€œYou talked to Beeton’s wife?”
    â€œYeah.”
    Kearney opened his mouth to say more, but the look on Hanrahan’s face stopped him.
    â€œLieberman back?” Kearney asked.
    â€œQuerez wanted him at the North,” said Hanrahan. “Some kind of gang business. Emergency.”
    â€œI’d call this an emergency, wouldn’t you, Sergeant?” asked Kearney.
    â€œSergeant Lieberman’ll get here as fast as he can,” said Hanrahan.
    Kearney looked back at the window.
    â€œHartz may just get that lady killed,” said Hanrahan.
    Kearney looked back at Hanrahan.
    â€œSergeant, between you and me, Chief Hartz … Forget it. Is Ballentine out there?”
    â€œHe’s out there.”
    â€œYou’re sure Bernie never met him?”
    â€œBallentine says no. Just got on the force three weeks ago. Came from Houston,” said Hanrahan looking at the kitchen door. There was a sizable footprint where Nowitz had kicked it. “He knows nothing about sound equipment. Doesn’t even do home movies.”
    â€œIt won’t get that far,” said Kearney.
    â€œYou’re hoping, Captain.”
    â€œI’m praying, Sergeant.”
    â€œYou think Ballentine has a shot in hell?”
    â€œYou got a way with words, Sergeant,” said Kearney, knowing both he and Hanrahan thought Chief of Police Hartz was a major league asshole.
    On the roof of the Shoreham Towers, Bernie Shepard took a drink from his canteen and poured some water into a cup for the dog. The dog drank carefully but noisily. When the knock came at the steel door, the cup was almost empty. The dog knocked it over with his nose and came up ready.
    Shepard stood, cradled his shotgun, glanced around to be sure no helicopter was on the horizon, and moved to the door, the dog at his heels.
    When the second knock came, Shepard called out, “Talk.”
    â€œChannel Four’s here, Bernie,” Abe