by J. S. Carol
Robert Taylor Senior didn’t understand what he did for a living. He was a lawyer who worked eighty hours a week. That was real work. What Rob did, in his father’s opinion, wasn’t. His father had been mostly absent while he was growing up. On the few occasions he had made an appearance, he’d never had a good word to say. Nothing Rob had done had ever been good enough. He’d get As in almost every subject, but it would be that one B that his father would focus on. So, yes, that ‘screw you’ would be the cherry on the cake.
Tara was right beside him, grinning a big old grin and clearly enjoying the attention as much as he was. The cop took them past the firefighters and the paramedics, and stopped in front of the LAPD’s Mobile Command Unit. Rob could sense the tension all around him. It was like a rubber band had been tightened to breaking point and everyone was just waiting for it to snap. The blank wall of Alfie’s was a couple of blocks up ahead. Usually this was one of LA’s busiest streets. Not today. The stretch of road leading to the restaurant was completely deserted. All the stop signs were on red. It was kind of eerie.
Aaron Walters marched down the steps, shoes clattering on steel. He didn’t look happy, but that was the least of Rob’s worries. Jonah wanted this interview done yesterday, and Walters had kept him hanging around for almost five minutes, which had meant five minutes of calls from Jonah, each one more abusive than the last. That was not Rob’s idea of fun.
Walters stopped in front of him. ‘Make this quick.’
Rob looked at him. Despite the fancy title, the uniform and the politician’s smile, he was just another PR man, and PR men were one small step up the evolutionary ladder from snake-oil salesmen.
‘Alex King,’ he said.
‘What’s he got to do with anything?’ Walters’ expression was totally blank. No giveaways, no tells, nothing. He had a great poker face.
‘Here’s the thing,’ Rob went on. ‘I’ve just interviewed Alex King and he told me a whole bunch of interesting stuff. For instance, he told me he’s currently hiding out in the restroom in Alfie’s and that he’s helping you guys out. He also told me that two people have died. Now, I’m confused here, Aaron. You see, I remember you standing up before the cameras not so long ago and categorically stating that no one had been killed. So, what’s the story?’
Walters took a long breath in and shook his head. ‘That stupid asshole. What the hell was he thinking, talking to you?’
Rob shrugged and said nothing.
‘You can’t use the interview. You realise that, don’t you?’
Another shrug.
‘Come on, Taylor, we both know that if the bomber finds out about King then he’s a dead man.’
‘Here’s something else I found interesting, Aaron. This isn’t a terrorist attack, is it?’
‘Jesus Christ, aren’t you hearing me? You cannot use the interview.’
‘Aaron, I’m hearing you just fine. The thing is, if I can’t use it, then you’ve got to give me something I can use.’
‘Or what? You’re going to condemn a man to death?’
‘It’s not me you’ve got to worry about.’
‘Seth.’ Walters whispered the name like it was a curse. He shook his head. ‘No, he wouldn’t do that. Even he’s not that much of a bastard.’
‘Are we talking about the same Seth Allen here? Because the Seth Allen I know would sell his mother in a heartbeat.’
Walters said nothing.
‘Look,’ Rob added, ‘I don’t like this any more than you do.’
This was a blatant lie, but sometimes you had to give a little to win the war. Walters shook his head and sighed. He looked into the distance and when he looked back he was still shaking his head.
‘What will it take to stop Seth using the interview?’
‘An exclusive. You’re going to tell me what’s really going on in there, and you’re not going to speak to anyone else until we’ve aired.’
‘I can’t.’
‘You can and you will.’
‘Okay, but I want to vet the interview before you air it.’
‘Not going to happen.’
Rob couldn’t help smiling. And no wonder. This was a major coup. Once the interview aired, every news station in town was going to want a piece of him. The future was just looking brighter and brighter. At this rate he’d need a new pair of shades.
10
There had been no gunshot, no retribution. JJ knew she’d had a lucky escape, but it was only just starting to sink in how lucky she’d been. For a moment back there, she’d been convinced she was about to die. The bomber had looked her straight in the eye and she’d thought his next move would be to shoot her. But that hadn’t happened.
From here on in she wasn’t going to do anything that would mark her out. Nothing at all. Invisible like wallpaper, she told herself, bland and boring and very much in the background. She’d had one strike against her. There was no way she could afford another. She glanced over at the bomber. He was staring intently at his laptop, totally absorbed by what he was seeing. She looked away before he caught her staring.
‘And we’ve got another exclusive here at TRN,’ a female voice said. ‘Our roving reporter, Rob Taylor, is at Alfie’s, where he’s talking to Aaron Walters, the LAPD’s spokesperson. Rob, can you tell us what’s happening over there?’
‘We’ve got breaking news of a major development, Caroline. It would appear this isn’t a terrorist attack. Is that correct, Mr Walters?’
‘That’s correct.’ Walters sounded like a politician. Smooth, polished, confident. ‘We’ve now made contact with the bomber and I can confirm that this isn’t a terrorist attack.’
‘So, what exactly is going on?’
‘That’s what we’re trying to establish. So far no demands have been issued, and until that happens we’ve got no way of knowing what the bomber’s motives are.’
‘You can speculate, though?’
‘Mr Taylor, speculating is not going to benefit anybody.’
‘How are the hostages bearing up?’
‘That is something our negotiator will be trying to establish.’
‘But, so far as you’re aware, nobody’s been injured?’
There was a pause, a moment of stillness and silence. ‘Unfortunately, there have been two fatalities.’
‘Can you tell me what happened?’
Rob’s question contained a mix of shock and surprise, but to JJ’s practised ear it sounded staged. If the reporter already knew about the deaths, what else did he know? More importantly, how did he know? And how had TRN managed to get this interview? Why not CNN or Fox? TRN was tiny in comparison. It made no sense. She re-ran the interview in her head. The only explanation was that TRN had some sort of leverage. But what? It would need to be something big.
An idea occurred to her, one that made her heart sink. Alex King must still be inside the restaurant. That would be big enough. If King was still here, and the police knew he was in here, then they would want to protect him. And if TRN had somehow found out about this, then Seth Allen wouldn’t think twice about using it to get an exclusive interview. JJ couldn’t be sure if that’s what had happened, but it felt right, and it was consistent with the sort of crap that went down in this town all the time.
‘At this stage, we’re still trying to piece together what happened,’ Walters said. ‘I’m not prepared to speculate.’
‘Can you tell us who the victims are?’
‘Once again, that’s something we’re currently trying to establish. Obviously, the families will need to be notified before we release that information.’
‘Thank you very much, Mr Walters. Caroline, back to you.’
‘As you can hear, incredible developments over at Alfie’s,’ Caroline said. ‘And another world exclusive for TRN, the station that’s always first with the news. For those viewers who have just joined us, two people have died and twenty-three people are being held hostage at one of LA’s top restaurants.’
The bomber ki
lled the volume and stood up. JJ watched him pace from the corner of her eye. The silenced submachine gun bumped gently against his back in time with his footsteps. He picked up the restaurant phone, hit a couple of buttons, then pressed it against the side of his balaclava.
‘Louise, good to hear your sweet voice again. Any luck with my question?’
A pause.
‘It shouldn’t be so hard. I mean, “what do I want?”. The question sounds simple enough to me.’
Another pause.
‘And how did I know you were going to say that? Okay, here’s another question. One of your people has been on the news, telling the world that I’ve killed a couple of hostages. Now, where did they get an idea like that from? And I want the truth, or I might have to kill a couple more.’
The pause was longer this time. The bomber nodded a couple of times as though what he was hearing made sense. ‘Infra-red and aural scanners. Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. If I was in your shoes I’d do the same thing.’
The bomber paused again, but this pause was different from earlier. JJ had the impression he was thinking rather than listening.
‘Okay, Louise, the fact I’ve killed a couple of people no doubt upsets you folks. So here’s what I’m going to do, I’m going to let some hostages go. How does that sound? We do it my way, though. Any deviations and everyone stays here with me. Got it?’
A pause.
‘And that’s the right answer, Louise. Okay, the first thing I need you to do is get in touch with TRN. I’ve decided they’re going to get the scoop on this one. After all, someone’s got to root for the underdog.’
11
The reporters on the other side of the barrier were looking more pissed than ever, which figured. Jonah would already have re-run the good bits from the interview, rubbing that salt even deeper into the wound. No doubt they were wondering how some lowlife from TRN had managed to get the scoop. It was no secret that TRN was widely regarded as the tabloid news station.
Rob and Tara were twenty yards from the barrier when the cop escorting them came to an abrupt halt and reached for the radio attached to his lapel. He cocked his head towards it, muttered ‘uh-huh’ a couple of times, then turned to Rob.
‘Walters wants to see you again.’
‘Why?’
‘No idea. I’ve just been told to bring you back.’
Rob shrugged at Tara, then they turned and headed towards the Mobile Command Unit.
‘Hey, where are you taking him now?’ The shout came from Jim Grieg. The Fox News man was glaring at them, red-faced and furious. He looked as though he was about to stroke out. ‘This is bullshit! Complete and utter bullshit!’
‘Come on,’ CNN’s reporter added. ‘Taylor’s already had one exclusive. It’s someone else’s turn.’
Rob grinned and Tara gave them the finger.
Walters was waiting by the command unit steps. ‘I need you to do something,’ he said without preamble. He was chewing his bottom lip and looked flustered. The admission clearly killed him. This was his version of death by a thousand paper cuts. He took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. ‘The bomber has agreed to release some hostages. But he wants the release shown on live TV, and he wants TRN to report on it.’
‘And?’
‘And he wants you to share your live feed with the other networks.’
‘Is that all?’
Walters said nothing.
‘So, let me get this straight. You want me and Tara to go down to Alfie’s and film the hostages coming out. And then you just want us to hand over the footage. You know, Aaron, I’ve got to ask, what happens if we’re down there and the bomber decides to blow himself up?’
‘Don’t screw with me Taylor. We both know you’re going to do this.’
Rob smiled.
‘I need an assurance that there won’t be any problems with the other networks getting access to your live feed.’
‘Of course there won’t be any problems.’
‘I’m serious. They’re already all over my ass because they think I’m playing favourites.’
‘I said it wouldn’t be a problem.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Not so fast. If we don’t do this then the hostages won’t be released. That’s the deal, right?’
The only response from Walters was a careful narrowing of the eyes.
‘I’ve got a couple of conditions.’ Rob smiled, then outlined what he wanted. Today was just getting better and better.
12
‘Who wants to go home?’
Nobody moved a muscle. All eyes were on the bomber. He was strutting back and forth, stepping over Elizabeth Hayward’s body as though it wasn’t there. Hopelessness had turned to hope in a heartbeat. JJ felt it. Everyone felt it. There wasn’t a single person in the room who didn’t want to get out of here.
The suspicious part of her mind was searching for the catch, though. There had to be one. There always was. Read the small print, then read it again. That was something else that Wiesner had drilled into her. Chances were the bomber had no intention of letting anyone go. JJ hoped this wasn’t the case, but, based on what she’d seen so far, she couldn’t dismiss the possibility.
‘Okay,’ the bomber said. ‘Since eight is my lucky number, I’ve decided to let eight of you go. But who’s going and who’s staying? Now, I’ve thought long and hard about this, but I think I’ve come up with a solution. What I did was take a good look around at you all and ask myself who shouldn’t be here. Once I did that, the decision made itself.’
He stopped strutting and faced the hostages.
‘Chester, stand up.’
Everyone moved at the same time, bumping and shuffling and turning to see. The head chef stood up on shaky legs, using the back of a chair for support. His large gut was spilling over the waistband of his white boxer shorts.
‘Holly, stand up.’
Holly was the head waitress. She was in her early thirties, tanned, athletic, pretty and slim. Beth was called next, another waitress. JJ saw a pattern emerging and did a quick head-count. If you took Tony out of the equation, there were five members of staff left sitting on the floor. Sure enough, one by one, they were told to stand up.
‘Tony, please escort these good people to the door.’
Tony’s face was looking worse. Both eyes were dark purple and swollen, and his nose was kinked to the right. He stood up and led his staff towards the foyer.
‘One more thing,’ the bomber called after him. ‘Don’t even think about sneaking out with them. Do that, and I will shoot someone, and that blood will be on your hands.’
He stared straight at JJ when he said this. She thought she’d been forgiven, but obviously not. She looked desperately at Tony, then back at the bomber. Even if his orders were followed to the letter, he might still shoot her. There were no guarantees here. The bomber sat down at the laptop and pressed the restaurant phone against his ear. Two seconds passed, three seconds, four.
‘Okay, Louise, we’re good to go here. As soon as I see Alfie’s on my screen, I’ll give the order for the grilles to go up.’
Another eight seconds passed. Nine. Ten.
‘Do you take me for a fool?’
The bomber was holding the phone in front of his mouth and shouting into it. JJ’s stomach turned inside out. She glanced at the gun hanging from his back, glanced at the bomb vest. The flashing heart on his watch was registering one hundred and eleven beats a minute.
‘Did I not make myself clear? We do this my way! What part of that is so hard to understand? Now, you get in touch with whoever’s operating that camera and tell them to pull back so I can see both doors. If that doesn’t happen within the next two seconds then the deal is off and I start shooting.’
13
‘We’ve got the LAPD on the phone,’ one of the assistants yelled out.
Seth glanced down at them. The black kid was looking straight at him, while the other two were doing their best to appear busy. A
t least that made it easy to work out who’d been doing the shouting. The problem was that the three of them were totally interchangeable. ‘And?’
‘They need both doors in the shot, and they need it done now or the hostages won’t be released.’
Seth pulled his microphone towards his mouth. ‘Tara,’ he said calmly. ‘Be a sweetheart and pull back so we can see the kitchen door.’
The picture on the main screen widened until both of Alfie’s doors were in shot. The downside was that too much of the parking lot was now showing. In the middle of the picture was a patch of dried blood that marked the place where Victor Comaneci had been shot. The fact that it had shrunk when Tara zoomed out was a royal pain in the ass, since it diminished the impact. At the moment, that dark patch of blood was the only interesting thing on the screen.
While Tara had been setting up, she’d ‘accidentally’ swept her camera across the parking lot. Manufacturers, models and number plates had been noted and were now being checked out by the TRN researchers.
One car had stood out amongst all the luxury motors, an old silver Ford Taurus with battered bodywork. The bomber had to get to the restaurant somehow. You never walked anywhere in LA, particularly if you were wearing a balaclava and a bomb vest.
There were no cars in the picture now, but that was intentional. TRN had a chance to beat the big boys to the scoop yet again. Right now, Seth was playing every advantage he could.
‘CNN’s on the phone.’ This came from one of his assistants. The white lesbian this time.
‘And?’
‘And they want to know why we haven’t sent them the live feed yet.’
‘Tell them we’ve got a technical glitch. Ditto for Fox or anyone else looking for their pictures.’
‘You want me to lie?’
Seth laughed. ‘Yes, sweetheart, that’s exactly what I want you to do. Have you got a problem with that?’
‘No, sir.’
‘And that’s the correct answer.’
