Christmas Tango: A Soldiering On Novella

by Aislinn Kearns

  She shrunk into herself, trying to appear as small and non-threatening as possible.

  He tilted his head. “What’s your name?” His voice was calm.

  “Mandy,” she murmured.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Mandy what?”

  A confused frown tugged at her brow but she tried to keep her face smooth. “Lennox.”

  He eyed her, not saying anything for a long moment. “You weren’t on the guest list.”

  Mandy worked to keep her surprise off her face. These awful men must have received the guest list ahead of time. That meant that someone had to have helped them. A traitor. Possibly even one of the people in this room.

  “I was a last minute addition as a favour to a friend,” she murmured. No need to mention Duncan, or the reason why she’d wanted to come. Her whole plan of networking was completely ruined, anyway.

  She felt like a bug under a microscope as he stared her down. She resisted the urge to straighten her spine. She had to appear small. Harmless. Just like that bug.

  Without warning, he snatched the notepad from between Mandy’s clutched fingers. She flinched in shock. Her hands twitched, wanting to reach out and take it back, but she knew it would be unwise.

  He flicked through the pages until he came to the end of her multi-page list. He squinted in the dull moonlight, trying to read the page.

  “You’ve only listed half a million as your contribution,” he said absently, scanning the page.

  A few of the people nearest to them shifted, clearly having heard. She silently pleaded with them not to interrupt.

  He continued. “Your father is one of the wealthiest men in the country.”

  “My father isn’t me. I make my own money, and not much of it. I recently invested heavily in a new business,” she explained. Her throat was tight with fear, making the words difficult.

  He made a thoughtful sound and finally looked up at her. “Well, Mandy. I’m impressed that you listed yourself at all, since you are doing the counting you could have neatly avoided that requirement. That shows some moral fibre, and I like that.”

  Mandy nearly laughed at the ridiculousness of this man judging her moral fibre, but pressed her lips together to hold it in.

  He gestured his head over to where his lackeys waited. “I think you should come sit with us, don’t you?”

  Knowing she had no other options, Mandy nodded. Their captor slammed the notepad into Mandy’s chest, then gestured for her to precede him. She gripped the pad, papers crinkling in her hands, and strode forward. All eyes stared intently at her. Now she straightened her spine, knowing she’d just come out on top of that encounter despite her new, precarious position.

  Flush with her success in both avoiding any punishment and learning an important piece of information, Mandy dared to ask a question as she settled herself on the floorboards by the man’s feet.

  “What do I call you?” she asked softly.

  He gave her a slow smile. “Mr. Falcon will do.”

  A pseudonym that gave her nothing. Still, now she had a name to curse for her current predicament. “Thank you.” She gave him her sweetest smile.

  He looked at her a moment too long before he finally turned away. Mandy got back to counting. Despite her notes, she had to start over. Her hand shook a little as she wrote, some combination of fear and draining adrenaline.

  “Where’s Klaus?” Mr. Falcon ask his compatriot, too quietly for anyone but her to have heard.

  A rustle of clothing implied the man had shrugged in reply. Mandy stared down at the numbers in front of her, trying to become invisible.

  Mr. Falcon unclipped a walkie talkie. A crackle of static sounded. “Klaus, what’s your status?” More crackle.

  “Klaus?” he asked.

  Mr. Falcon growled. “Billy, go find him. I’ll keep trying to reach him.”

  Billy left. Mandy’s mind ticked over, trying to process all she’d learned in the last few minutes. Who had helped these men?

  And, worse, were they still in this room as a silent enemy Mandy didn’t know she had to face?

  Chapter 5

  Duncan ignored the crackle of the walkie talkie for the twentieth time. He paused for a moment to dig his fingers into his thigh, trying to loosen the complaining muscles. His leg wouldn’t be thanking him tomorrow.

  He had to find the entrance to the basement; it had to be somewhere near here. If he could find it, maybe he could repair the phone lines enough to get a message out.

  Even if he couldn’t get through to the police, Blake, Zack, and Sam would be just as useful as a battalion of armed SWAT officers.

  If he didn’t find it soon, he’d go back and check on Mandy and the rest before continuing his search. He wished he had Paul monitoring any security feeds, keeping him updated. He’d forgotten how hard it was to work without an eye in the sky.

  Though, perhaps this building also had security cameras. He might try to find those if his attempt at calling out failed.

  The walkie talkie crackled again, and the leader’s voice sounded, asking for his comrade.

  Duncan turned another corner, getting lost in the labyrinth of the lower levels of the old building. Maybe if he could find an evacuation plan mounted on a wall it would give him a hint as to where he might find the door to the basement.

  A man appeared around the corner up ahead, then froze when he caught sight of Duncan. The two men stared at each other in surprise for a brief moment before the man did something Duncan didn’t expect: he turned and ran, ducking back the way he’d come.

  Shit. Duncan tried to follow, but his leg ached from all the walking he’d been doing. Still, he rounded the corner, the AR-15 at the ready in case he got a clear shot.

  The man was just ahead, pulling further away with every long stride. Duncan raised the weapon, sucking in a breath as his injured palm gripped the handguard, shooting pain through his arm. The man was just a few steps from the corner, seconds from being out of range.

  Duncan aimed, the butt of the gun pressed against his shoulder, and pulled the trigger. A quick burst of gunfire sounded, echoing down the enclosed space of the hall. The man staggered to a stop, then collapsed. Duncan limped towards him, gun still up and ready.

  By the time Duncan reached him, the man was taking his last breaths.

  Duncan gripped the man’s collar, tugging him upright. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

  The man’s lips stretched into a grin. “You’re dead,” he spat.

  He was still chuckling when the light died in his eyes.

  Well, that was unnerving.

  The radio crackled again. “Billy? What the hell just happened?”

  Duncan hesitated.

  “Billy? Was that gunfire? Where’s Klaus?”

  Duncan sighed. The element of surprise was gone now. He had to change strategies.

  He unclipped the walkie talkie. “Sorry, asshole. Klaus and Billy can’t come to the phone right now. Can I take a message?”

  He let go of the button and waited. It was a risky strategy to bait the man, but he also needed to show a strong hand upfront, prove he was in charge.

  “Who the fuck is this?” came the reply.

  “I’m your worst nightmare.” Duncan winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. That was a bit too much of a cliché.

  “You better get down here right now,” he growled.

  “Or what?” Duncan asked.

  “Or I’ll kill more people until you do.” He was gloating. Triumphant.

  Duncan began patting down the dead body in front of him. “I don’t think you’ll do that.”

  Other than the gun, a knife, and the walkie talkie, the man also had a ring of keys. Duncan pocketed them in case they turned out to be useful.

  “Oh?” the man asked through the radio. “What makes you think that?”

  Duncan stood, and rearranged all the items he’d collected from the two dead men so they were in easy reach if he needed them. “My bet is that you
are already struggling to make your one hundred million dollar target. The more people you kill, the further out of your reach that amount will be. Plus, the rest of your hostages will be far less likely to cooperate with you if you’re indiscriminately killing off the others. If you kill too many, then you’ll have to shoot everyone, and you’ll end up with nothing. So you better be real careful who you hurt down there. Until I kill you, that is.”

  The radio was silent for a long moment, so Duncan hefted the dead man over his shoulder and walked back toward the room where he’d left Klaus. The extra weight nearly caused his knee to buckle, so he went slowly, trying not to jostle the unexpectedly heavy weight on his shoulder.

  The radio crackled again. “I can spare some more.”

  Duncan paused and evened his breathing before replying. “Can you, though?”

  Nearly there. He took a few more steps.

  Duncan wasn’t sure that he could hold the man off from killing anyone for long. He just had to make sure that whoever is was, it wasn’t Mandy.

  “Look, buddy. You seem like the Good Samaritan type, so here’s the deal. If you don’t show yourself to me in the next thirty seconds, I’ll kill someone at random. And that death will be on your head.”

  He paused as if waiting for Duncan to reply, but Duncan was too busy huffing it to the room he’d left Klaus in.

  “Alright,” said the man. “One. Two. Three…”

  He continued counting as Duncan ran as fast as he could despite the heavy burden. He made it to the room as the man counted to fifteen and dumped Billy’s body. His leg was really hurting now, but he limped up the last flight of stairs to reach the balcony.

  “Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty. Last chance, asshole.”

  Duncan burst onto the balcony, panting. “I’m up here, motherfucker,” he called down.

  The man’s head whipped upwards. Duncan knew he was mostly in shadow from where he stood, but his white undershirt should catch the light. He noted Mandy, crouched at the asshole’s feet, staring up at him as well. He tried to send her reassuring vibes, but she wouldn’t be able to read his expression from that distance.

  The fact that she was at the bastard’s feet was a bad sign. Any shot Duncan tried to get off would be in danger of hitting her. Anyone else and he might have taken the risk, but not her.

  The man raised his gun in Duncan’s direction. Duncan waited.

  “Get your ass down here right now!”

  “Or what?” Duncan called down.

  “Or I’ll kill you.”

  Duncan raised his own weapon, more careful of his injured hand this time. “Then I’ll take you down with me.”

  A movement caught Duncan in the corner of his eye. He shifted his gaze just enough so that his peripheral vision caught Mandy shuffling backwards, away from her captor. Duncan grinned. Good girl.

  As soon as Mandy was far enough away from his target, Duncan let loose a stream of gunfire. It was deafening in the echoing space of the hall. Everyone ducked, huddling together in large groups. Even the leader and his two cronies were shielding themselves from the blast, not realising that the bullets were embedding harmlessly into the wall well above their heads.

  He didn’t really try to deliver a fatal blow at this distance, but he needed to keep this guy on his toes until Duncan could figure out a way to kill him without endangering anyone. If this strategy got him thinking on his feet—a sure-fire way to make mistakes—then all the better.

  But mostly Duncan just wanted to show him who was boss.

  He stopped shooting and disappeared back into the shadows. Only silence came from below.

  He waited until his radio crackled. “Get back here.” The man sounded furious.

  “I did as you asked and showed myself. Now you uphold your end of the bargain and keep those hostages alive.”

  “Who says I plan to uphold my end of the bargain?”

  Duncan rolled his eyes. “Just shut it, asshole.” Then, he pretended to turn off the radio by clicking one of the buttons. It was a bold move. But if the man couldn’t reach Duncan to bait him, then there would be no point in killing the hostages to anger him.

  He just had to hope it would work.

  Chapter 6

  Duncan was here!

  That was the only thought that Mandy could focus on. Duncan was still in the building and hopefully had a plan. Or at least enough of one to get them all out safe.

  Mandy tried to stay inconspicuous as Mr. Falcon struggled to his feet. “That asshole!” he growled. Mandy tried to suppress a smile.

  “Frankie,” Mr. Falcon muttered, pulling his companion aside. “We need a new plan. With only three of us it’ll be tough to keep control of the crowd.” He said it too low for anyone but Mandy to hear.

  Frankie nodded. He was tall, dark-haired, and a few years past his prime. “Our friend said that there are plenty of empty rooms upstairs. Maybe we could split ‘em up and lock ‘em in? That way we only have to guard the hall outside.”

  Mr. Falcon pondered this for a moment. Then, he nodded decisively. “Take them up in smaller groups. I’ll look after this lot down here while you and Rick escort them up. Make sure that asshole upstairs doesn’t get them, or it’ll be your head I come for next.”

  Frankie hesitated a moment. “What about Klaus and Billy?”

  Mr. Falcon shrugged. “Leave them. We’ll find them later.”

  They looked at each other a long moment, with Frankie clearly itching to disagree, and Mr. Falcon gleefully waiting for the dissent. The moment passed.

  “Get on with it,” he said, shoving Frankie in the shoulder. “I need to make a call to the boss, let them know the situation has changed.”

  Frankie walked over to Rick, dragging his heels. After a moment of conference, the two rounded up a group of about ten people and began herding them through the door and out of sight.

  Mandy turned her attention back to Mr. Falcon.

  “It’s all under control. We’ll get what you want,” he said into his phone. His voice was hushed, barely audible. All she could see of him was his tense shoulders, but it was enough to tell her that this was news he didn’t want to be giving. He was afraid of whoever was on the other end of that line.

  Mandy’s mind whirred. Who would be orchestrating this? It made more sense when this was a group of mercenaries. But what if there was something deeper at play? She’d have to make sure she stayed alert to see what else she could learn.

  Mandy was in the last group to be sorted into a room. She, plus Clark and Loretta—the elderly couple she had sat near before—were joined by Manuel the owner, Jerry the waiter, and Jenny the event planner. Steve, the angry businessman that Mandy had spoken to in the beginning, was also added to their group.

  Mandy kept her eyes out for Duncan as they traversed the hallways, but she didn’t catch sight of him. What was he waiting for? What was his plan?

  They were herded into a room on the second floor. The click of the lock was like a clanging death knell in the silence.

  The group all turned towards her, each face a mask of fear and uncertainty. Orange light from the streetlight outside the window cast a fiery glow over them. The room was small, not enough for the seven of them to move about comfortably. There was a desk and a filing cabinet. A single chair. Not even a painting to decorate the peeling wallpaper.

  Manuel noticed her looking. “We haven’t made it to this room yet,” he told her apologetically.

  Mandy smiled. “The décor is the least of my concerns,” she told him.

  “What do we do?” Jerry asked. He tugged nervously at his clip-on bowtie, his eyes wide.

  “First, we check the window,” Mandy told them. She shouldered past the group, kicked a box of Christmas decorations out of her way, and peered out of the window. An empty alley lay below, and there was no one around that Mandy could attract the attention of for help.

  They were on the third story, too far to jump. She unlatched the window and pushed it up. Cold ai
r immediately assaulted her and she breathed deep. Sticking her head out, Mandy could see that there were some foot- and handholds, but nothing she’d be confident enough to try. If Blake were here he would have swung out of the window without any hesitation.

  Faint Christmas music drifted from a distant location. Sudden melancholy overcame her, as she thought about how lonely her Christmas would be this year. If she made it out alive.

  She turned her gaze up, thinking that the roof would be closer to climb to. But there was a large overhang that would make it impossible to get up there.

  Mandy pulled her head in and returned to the room at large.

  “It wouldn’t be safe to go that way,” she informed them. “Unless anyone is experienced at rock-climbing?”

  One by one they each shook their heads as she looked their way. She pursed her lips, thinking. The phone was dead when she tried it, and the door was definitely locked. That meant that she would have to negotiate directly with Mr. Falcon to get everyone out, or at least buy enough time that Duncan could rescue them all.

  Not that they had much time. An hour or so before the deadline.

  She spun back around. “We just need to delay long enough to give my friend an opportunity to enact whatever he’s planning. I need you all to be ready to run whenever you get the chance.”

  “Who’s your friend?” Jenny asked. Her neatly pressed skirt-suit was rumpled, her straight hair escaping from the sleek ponytail of earlier in the evening.

  “He’s the guy from the balcony. Former army. We own a security company together. He’ll save us.”

  “You sound so confident. But you can’t be sure he’s even got a plan, or that it will work. It might even put us in danger. Isn’t it better that we just give this guy his money?” Jenny asked.

  Mandy hesitated. “We can’t.”

  “What?” Steve asked. He’d unbuttoned his tuxedo in deference to the close, stuffy air of the small room. His rounded stomach strained against the pristine white of his shirt. “Why not?”