Read this novel at subscribestar.adult/fallenhead Illustrations Posted on subscribestar Read Exclusive subscribestar at subscribestar.adult/fallenhead Chapter 4 Part 1 Lobby Gunfight “You ” “Ah ” My mother’s slender hand seized Larry’s left wrist just as the knife, gleaming with cold light, drove into the wrist of his gun hand.
The sudden reversal shocked and enraged him.
He tried to pull the trigger again, but Nick’s huge black hand had already grabbed his right index finger and bent it sharply in the opposite direction.
Larry’s scream cut off almost as soon as it started.
Nick’s other fist smashed into his face.
Blood sprayed from his mouth, the back of his head slammed into the wall, his eyes rolled up, and he slumped unconscious on the floor.
The danger was over, but before any of us could catch our breath, Helen’s shrill scream split the air.
“Gerald!
Are you alright?
Talk to me!
Don’t scare me!” I turned and saw my father‑in‑law clutching his chest with one hand, blood all over his nose and mouth.
His face was deathly pale and twisted with pain, unable to utter a word.
I dropped to a squat and checked his breathing, then looked up urgently at Helen.
“Mom!
Quick, his nitroglycerin!” She fumbled the pills into his mouth.
A few minutes later, some color crept back into his face.
He managed a wan, bitter smile, breathing weakly, and tapped his chest with a trembling finger.
He was only fifty, but years of grinding himself down for the company had left him with a weak heart.
Under such a sudden shock, the fact he’d survived at all was a blessing.
Once I saw he was breathing however weakly I let out a tiny sigh of relief.
Click‑click‑click… The rapid beat of high heels echoed across the floor.
Diana came running, tears streaming down her face.
“Dee, look after Dad.
I’ll check on Mom and that maniac.” “Mm…” She dropped to her knees beside Helen, her tears falling like pearls as both women gently rubbed Father‑in‑law’s chest, trying to ease his breathing.
“Mom.” When I turned back, my mother and Nick already had Larry trussed up with rope like a crab for market, bound hand and foot.
“Wes, you and Nick grab him.
Follow me.” She wrapped the pistol in a tablecloth, then stood and straightened her blouse and jacket, smoothing away the wrinkles where Nick’s hands had mauled her breast.
We walked back to my in‑laws.
My mother’s face showed concern as she leaned in.
“Gerald, hold on a bit longer.
The ambulance should be downstairs already.” Then she turned slightly, giving Nick and me a quick look over her shoulder.
With that calm, authoritative stride, she led us to the doors of the banquet hall.
She set both hands on the handles and flung the doors open.
In an instant, cameras converged from every direction.
The officers at the entrance could no longer hold back the reporters hungry for a front‑page story.
Dozens of microphones thrust forward at once.
“Secretary Lydia, I’m with the Handong Daily.
What’s the situation inside?” “Any casualties?” “Has the suspect escaped?” My mother’s face was grave, almost expressionless.
She turned slightly toward the precinct captain.
“Captain Li, is the ambulance downstairs?” “Yes!” “Get them up here immediately.
Mr.
Gerald’s condition is critical.” “Yes, ma’am!” As Li hurried for the stairs, my mother turned back to the mess of cameras and microphones.
“Everyone, please open a passage and do not obstruct the medics.” The reporters, suddenly obedient, pulled aside.
She stepped away from the doorway, and only then did they see Nick and me dragging a thin, blood‑smeared man behind her.
Some journalists, recognizing the money shot, tried to surge forward.
My mother’s gaze snapped cold.
“Please do not interfere with official duties.” No one dared push further.
Cameras stayed raised, but no one moved, not even to breathe too loudly.
My mother stood there, hands clasped behind her back, back straight, that solemn face like a cold marble statue.
The elevator doors slammed open.
Rapid footsteps pounded toward us.
Seeing Captain Li leading a team of medics, she issued crisp orders.
“Treat the injured first.” “Captain Li, hold this floor.
Anyone trying to enter without authorization is to be arrested for tampering with a crime scene.” “Has forensics and pathology arrived?” Li, overwhelmed, snapped to attention.
“Soon, they’re on their way.” My mother’s brows pinched.
She checked the faded ladies’ watch on her wrist.
“It’s been half an hour.
They still aren’t here?” “This… I…” He faltered, not daring to finish.
“Tomorrow afternoon, I want a full written account of why this incident unfolded as it did.
The handling of this case will be circulated to the entire force.” Then she crooked her finger at me.
I hurried up and handed over the cloth‑wrapped pistol.
She unfolded the tablecloth in front of all the cameras.
The black Star pistol gleamed in the lights, every lens zooming in.
Captain Li recognized the standard Type‑54 at once and went rigid.
“Captain Li, the serial number has been filed off.
You have two weeks to tell me where this weapon came from.” He accepted the gun with both hands, shoulders sagging with relief.
“Get this criminal off my floor.” He spun and waved his men forward.
Cuff‑click, cuff‑click… The cameras turned to rake over Larry’s limp body as the officers hauled him away.
“Thank you, everyone.
The city will release a formal statement as soon as possible.” My mother stepped back, walking up to my father‑in‑law’s stretcher.
“Mr.
Gerald, the criminal is in custody.
I’m sorry this happened at your banquet.
Please rest well at the hospital.” The medics, no fools, gave her room and then rushed for the elevator with the stretcher.
Diana came out next, supporting Helen, who was sobbing.
As they passed my mother, they hesitated for a heartbeat.
“President Gerald, on behalf of the entire public security system, I apologize for what happened to Mr.
Gerald.” My mother even bowed slightly as she spoke.
Her face, for the first time, softened into genuine concern, none of the icy distance she’d shown the cameras moments before.
Every reporter there caught it all in high definition.
Standing behind her, I couldn’t help raising a mental thumbs‑up.
Brilliant.
Utterly brilliant.
Firm yet compassionate, responding quickly but with full control, thinking of the people, incorruptible, personally capturing a dangerous suspect the perfect image of a heroic political and legal commissar, all carved into the collective memory of Handong right there in that doorway.