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“Let’s hold and see what happens. Be ready to move. Tony’s covering the back door.”
They watched as the man banged on the faded maroon metal door, then waited for an answer.
Then he banged again, and after a moment the door opened.
“Charley, I can’t see who opened the door.”
“Shit, Matt. Me neither.”
They watched as Will Curtis held up the envelope in his left hand. Curtis said something, but he was too far away for them to hear it.
Then suddenly they watched as he surged at the open door—and disappeared inside.
“Oh, shit! Let’s go!” Payne said. He started up the sidewalk in a crouch.
After a few strides, Payne glanced over his left shoulder and saw the hefty Bell lumbering after him. Like Matt, Charley had his police badge clearly visible, its leather holder hanging from a chain around his neck. Charley had his service Glock out of the belt holster on his right hip.
“I think I saw him pull something from his waist, Matt. Maybe a pistol.”
Before they reached the front door, which was still open, Matt could hear angry voices inside.
“I told you I ain’t him, old man!” a male voice said. “Put down the fucking gun!”
Curtis, in a weak voice, said, “Then where’s this James?”
“Put down the gun, old man!” the other male repeated.
Matt got to the edge of the doorway and carefully looked inside.
There were only the two males visible, Will Curtis in the FedEx uniform and a black-skinned man with scraggly long hair and a full beard. They were in the large front room of the row house. Curtis was to the left and had a Glock aimed at the chest of the black male, who held up his hands shoulder high, the FedEx envelope in his right one.
Payne saw that a wood-floored hallway led to the back of the house and to the flight of stairs leading to the second floor. Under that flight, just barely visible, was the entrance for the flight that went downstairs to the basement.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see that Charley Bell was now right behind him. Payne reached into his pocket and broke the connection for their call, then speed-dialed Harris. Charley listened in as Matt told Tony what he’d seen inside, ending with, “Going to take it now.”
Payne then yelled around the corner of the doorway: “Police! Put down your weapons!”
When he peered around the corner, he was amazed that Will Curtis had actually complied with the order on the first shout. He was looking with tired eyes toward the front door.
Sergeant Matt Payne, with his Colt .45 raised in both hands close to his chest, smoothly rushed through the doorway, Detective Charley Bell lumbering on his heels.
Payne was shouting, “Police! Nobody move! Hands on your head!”
The black male still had his hands raised and now moved them to his head.
Will Curtis, as quickly as he could, complied, too.
They could hear Detective Tony Harris kicking in the back door.
Matt motioned for Charley to go let Tony in, and he hustled down the hall.
Just as Payne said to the black male, “Where’s the other guy?” the old man pointed under the stairs and yelled, “Coming out of the basement!”
Payne looked toward the basement entrance in time to see the head of a black male—whose hand was bringing up a black semiautomatic pistol.
The shooter swung the pistol at Payne. But before Matt could squeeze off a shot, Will Curtis stepped between them—and then came three shots from the black male.
Two of the bullets hit Curtis in the left shoulder, the third in his left chest.
