As McShane entered, he swept the room with his hard gaze, taking everything in: the bodies of the three SWAT members, the blood running, beginning to congeal on the floor—and the corpse of Sorley O’Brian. His lips tightened.
“Everyone sit!” he commanded. He swung around to glare at the prisoners as they began to drop to the floor. Satisfied, he strode over to O’Brian. He bent to examine his fallen comrade.
“Better ditch anything else you’re carrying,” Roberts whispered.
He was right, but Johnny didn’t have the strength to respond—in words or action. He sat, leaning against the wall, Alexa on one side and Roberts on the other. After a moment, Alexa’s hand delved under his shirt, withdrawing the Glock. She laid it on the floor behind them, concealing it beneath one of the wide lengths of tubing. He heard her fumbling with her purse.
“Thanks, Lex,” he murmured.
She patted him, and he knew she’d felt the warmth of fresh blood as her wide-eyed gaze snapped upward to meet his eyes.
He watched each thought pass across her lovely features without her uttering another word. She bit her lips.
Johnny wanted to speak, to comfort her, but he didn’t have it in him. He opened his palm, and she laid her hand inside as he closed his fingers around it, telling her without words how much he loved her.
“No!” McShane’s enraged shout reverberated through the cavernous room as he bent over O’Brian’s body. He grasped O’Brian’s bloody shirtfront and shook the corpse. “Sorley!”
“Good show,” Johnny muttered.
Roberts turned a speculative eye toward him. “You think that’s what it is? Or is it real?”
“Better hope he…doesn’t examine…the wound…”
Roberts nodded. “Hadn’t thought of it, but I suppose a .38 would leave a different kind of wound than, say, that Glock you took—” His gaze narrowed. “You’re no security guard, are you, Johnny?”
Johnny didn’t answer, and Roberts continued. “Your brother did his best to protect you with that story.” He shook his head, remembering. “Took one hell of a beating, too, for hanging up—breaking the connection.”
Johnny sighed, shifting, and Alexa squeezed his hand gently. He had pushed too hard. Maybe if they’d gotten to the elevators…his plan had been half-cocked, and he knew it—now. That wasn’t like him. He’d never considered that McShane would be hot on O’Brian’s heels, as he had been—but he should have. Hell, O’Brian wasn’t even cold yet, and McShane had already moved his operations to the roof, bringing the only remaining hostages. He’d assumed McShane would stay put; at least, for a while. That had been a deadly mistake. Hard to fathom, in any state of mind, that the total number of survivors including himself and Alexa, was less than twenty.
McShane stood up, walking in a slow circle around the other bodies. Stooping close, nudging a booted toe to turn them over, and finally, reaching to retrieve shell casings from the bloody floor.
“Damnation!” Roberts ground out in a low whisper.
Johnny slitted his eyes open wearily. Damn McShane’s thorough soul to hell.
“Eileen?” McShane spoke into his mouthpiece. “Eileen, get the hell up here!”
McShane turned murderous eyes on Johnny. He strode across the floor to stand over the place where Roberts, Johnny and Alexa sat together. “They’ve killed Sorley, Eileen. It’s just you and me now, love.” McShane stood looking at Johnny for a long moment, then crouched down beside him. Neither of them blinked. He held his hand out, the two .38 casings in his palm.
“I am going to carve your heart out, John Logan,” McShane spat, “and feed it to your lady.”
Chapter 32
“Danny! Thank God!” Ronnie Williams ran forward and enfolded his younger brother in a bear hug. “I’ve been sick to death worried about you!”
Slowly, Daniel moved his arms around his brother.
Ray Carter gave them a moment before he stepped up to join the two men. He extended his hand to Daniel. Daniel let go of Ronnie and took it in a firm shake.
“Danny,” Carter murmured. “It’s nice to see you. Glad you made it out safe.” He nodded toward the base of one of the flowering Bradford pear trees nearby. “Let’s sit down here and talk.” He caught the eye of the officer who had escorted Ronnie back over. “Tony, will you bring these men something to drink—”
“Sure, Captain. I’ll go see what I can round up.”
The three men lowered themselves to the lush green grass, and Carter looked at Daniel. “Danny, I need to know about the other people who were with you—up on the roof.”
Although Carter had been standing a few feet away from Daniel, observing him interact with the other men, he’d managed to hold himself in check, to wait for Ronnie Williams to get there before approaching Daniel with his questions. He was high on anticipation—and hope. He hadn’t wanted to spook this strange man who could tell them so much, if he could only manage to ask the right questions in the right way. “Can you tell me about them?”
Daniel nodded. “That’d be Johnny and Lex. Alexa.”
“Uh-huh. Where are they now?”
“Up there on the roof. I put ’em in this little room back by the compressors…on account of the bomb where I’d put ’em before.”
“What bomb?” Carter sat forward.
“Well, see, I had ’em up in the big airshaft. Johnny was hurt and I thought that’d be a safe place. But Lex, she went crawlin’ back in there and found where they’d put a bomb in.”
“This bomb, Danny. Did you see it?”
“Saw the timer. God, that seems like a year ago, now.” He shook his head.
Carter tamped down his frustration, telling himself to go slow. “How long ago was it—really?”
“Don’t rightly know, Captain. I remember the numbers were 25:42:09.”
Carter couldn’t keep his surprise from showing.
Daniel laughed, seeing it. “Yeah, I ain’t all idiot, Cap.”
The captain flushed, and looking into Danny Williams’s face, he realized how mistaken he’d been in his thinking. “Could you—try—to remember about how long ago that’s been?” he asked gently. “And what you’ve done since then?”
Daniel’s eyes looked past him into nothingness. “Well, I didn’t do what I meant to, that’s for sure.” He sighed. “I told Johnny I’d help Pete. That’s his brother.” He looked at Carter, and he nodded. “I got all the way down to the first floor and they—they moved ’em!”
Carter closed his eyes. Both alive; at least, when Danny Williams had left them. Carter leaned closer. “They were on the first floor?”
“Yeah, but I hadn’t got down there no more’n a hour before McShane decides to move ’em all up to the roof.”
Carter swore. This was his big play. McShane had been silent for several hours now. He’d never intended to escape. Never. He was going to play the martyr and take the rest of the remaining hostages with him when he went out.
“I know.” Daniel nodded morosely, shouldering away the perspiration on his cheek. “Now, they’re all up there. Up there where I thought Johnny and Lex were safe.”
“Danny, how many hostages were there? Did you get a good look?”
He brightened at this. “Now that, I know, Captain. There was Brendan Roberts, and about seven, eight other men. They all had on suits—all the ones left. Gotta be his bodyguards and whatnot.”
Carter smiled. “I’d say that’s probably right. Who else?”
“Well, there was Pete Logan and a woman, kinda, you know, takin’ care of him.” He shook his head. “Man, was he in a bad way. Beat black and blue.”
Carter’s brow furrowed. “He was alive, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, sir. Yes, he was. I know, because I let him see me up in the vent. He looked right at me, and was sending me mind messages—like I was sending him. But I’m not sure he understood my message. ’Cause I really never understood all of what his was.”
Ronnie Williams patted Daniel’s sleeve.
“It’s okay, Danny. You did the best you could.”
“That’s–all?” Carter felt like he’d just been shoved off a cliff. He shook his head, eyes unseeing. “I mean, we’d thought there were several more terrorists and quite a number of hostages—at least, that’s what we were hoping.” He sighed.
Daniel turned to Carter. “Could be they separated. There was one lady in McShane’s group. Only one that I saw, anyway.”
“You’re right about that,” Carter responded thoughtfully. Their information was that Eileen Bannion was with McShane, but his “army” should number several more than what Danny Williams was saying. There should’ve been at least three, maybe four more male terrorists.
“Danny, are you hurt anywhere?” Ronnie asked.
Daniel shook his head. “No. Just mad at that damn Sorley O’Brian. Ronnie, he took all our quarters! An’—An’ he wrecked my place. Turned over my little microwave and busted it good.” He looked away. “He just ruined it.”
“It’s all right, Danny,” Ronnie soothed. “Well get more quarters. Maybe a big ol’ mat to keep ’em in—” Ronnie broke off as a tear slipped down the rugged landscape of his younger brother’s face.
“When I find him, I’m gonna kill him.” Daniel’s voice was quiet.
Ronnie glanced up quickly at Carter, checking for his reaction. “Here now, Danny! We don’t want to be talking like that—”
“Ronnie.” Daniel shook his head. “You got no idea what I done. No idea.”
Ronnie slowly lifted his hand and laid it on the back of Daniel’s bowed head. “It don’t matter, Danny,” he whispered. “I love you. No matter what. You’re my brother, and can’t nobody ever take that away.”
Officer Tony Lambert approached them carrying three bottled waters. “Sorry, Captain. These aren’t very cold. We’re running out of ice in the coolers,” he said, handing the bottles to the three men.
“Thanks, Tony. It’s wet—that’s what counts.” Carter nodded to the young officer as he walked away.
“Danny, how did you leave Johnny and Alexa?”
Daniel sniffed and took a long drink of water, the question hanging in the air. “Johnny—he’s hurt bad. Got three bullet holes in him—here, here—and here.” He gestured to the spots on himself.
Carter shook his head. How was Johnny still living? Functioning? Three bullet holes…
“Now, that Lex, she’s pretty spunky,” Daniel continued. “She took out the one in his thigh, and the one in his side. The one in his arm passed clean through.” His face clouded. “But, Captain, he lost a lot of blood. He’s not going to be as strong—well, I gave ’em all my water and beer and whatnot. But can’t nothin’ make up for a man’s life blood bein’ lost except time—time to make it back again.”
Carter sighed and rose slowly. It couldn’t get much worse. By now, McShane would be setting his final plans in motion. He swung around to look at Daniel.
“Danny, did you see any SWAT officers in there?”
Daniel shook his head as Carter looked down at him. “No. Didn’t have no idea there was any—”
He broke off as another officer strode over with an envelope in his hand. “Captain, another message for you, sir.”
Carter took the envelope and opened the seal, reading it twice, three times, and still not believing what he was seeing.
Ray,
Another fly in the ointment. Richter, Frazier, Billings and at least one other unknown operative have gone over. Will update you as soon as telephone records prove certain identity of fourth party. Regrettable, but not unheard of, I’m sorry to say. Arrest and remand to headquarters as soon as possible. Activating Delta Team immediately.
Vince
With trembling hands, Carter replaced the letter in the envelope, wishing he had a match to put to the entire collection of letters residing in his shirt pocket. Even though Johnny and Pete Logan were still alive, they wouldn’t be for long. They had just run out of odds.
♥ ♥ ♥
Alexa huddled close to Johnny as McShane stormed away, cursing. A hollow emptiness swept over her. If someone touched her, she would break. She was as brittle as one of those chocolate Easter bunnies she’d always bought her girls… What could she do? Nothing, except be here with Johnny.
Her hand still rested within his, but his grasp was loose, and he had begun to shake as the fever stole through him with a renewed strength.
The Prime Minister sighed, giving Alexa a worried glance. “I’m sorry. You wouldn’t be in this situation if not for me.”
Alexa gave him a weary smile. “If I hadn’t been here, Mr. Roberts, I would never have met Johnny.”
Roberts shook his head. “And now, regrettably—” He didn’t finish his thought aloud, but Alexa knew. Now that they’d met, because of Roberts, they had no future. She looked away, her gaze following McShane as he strode to the other side of the room punching numbers into his cell phone with a vengeance.
“I’m going to try to ensure that you get out safely, Alexa,” Roberts said.
Something in his demeanor had changed. Alexa heard it in his voice, and her attention snapped back to him.
“You’re not thinking of bargaining with that madman, are you?” She sat up, leaning across Johnny, her voice low and urgent. “Mr. Roberts, you of all people must know that McShane is not going to keep his word—to you or anyone else…if I may say so.” She felt the color rush to her cheeks at the bold way she had spoken to this Head of State.
Roberts smiled. “I’m sixty-two years old, my dear. A lot of good people have died because of me—”
“That’s not true!” she whispered fiercely. “They died because Kieran McShane is a lunatic!”
“I’m the one he wants.”
Alexa shook her head. “No. He has you already. You, personally, are not what he wants.”
Roberts’s brows slashed together. “Then, what?”
Alexa bit her lip. “It’s the attention he wants. To be quite honest, I—I don’t think any of us are going to make it out of here alive.” Her voice shook, and she stopped a moment to regain her composure. “No matter what kind of deal he makes with the police, or the FBI, or your intelligence officers, he’s not going to abide by it. Why else would he kill the number of innocent people that he has? Why not just allow them to all go free, holding a few as hostages?” She looked down at her hand inside Johnny’s. “He knows that the world is watching,” she continued. “But the world would be watching whether he kept five hostages or fifty.”
“If what you say is true…then he must have something huge planned for his grand finale.” Roberts’s eyes narrowed as he cast a thoughtful glance at McShane’s back.
“We—know what that is…don’t we, Lex?” Johnny murmured, eyes still closed.
Alexa swallowed hard, meeting Roberts’s questioning look. “A bomb,” she acknowledged. “In the airshaft.”
Chapter 33
The pounding on the men’s room door roused Pete from where he hung, draped over the commode, asleep.
“Let’s go, Logan!” a female voice shouted, and then he heard the sound of the bathroom door opening. The rapid, booted footsteps annoyed him, but could not be ignored.
Eileen pushed the stall door open, hitting him in the back. He groaned and swore.
“Sorry,” she said quickly, but she didn’t sound all that sorry.
“Good news,” he murmured. “Think ’m done puking.”
“That’s great, but we’ve gotta get moving now.”
Pete could tell by her response that she didn’t understand how “great” it was. “Alright—hold on a minute.” He closed the stall door and tried to push himself into a standing position, finally accomplishing it.
“Are you…coming out?” Eileen asked tentatively.
Pete grinned. “I’m holding up the wall again. Wouldja push the door open?”
She did, slowly, and made a wry face. “Ick. Stinks in here. Come out and wash up.”
Unsteadily, he follo
wed her to the sink. She turned the water on, and he leaned over the basin, splashing it on his face and neck, then rinsing his mouth. She stood by anxiously, as if she were afraid he might fall. He grabbed a handful of paper towels and dried off.
When he looked up into the mirror, his eyes connected with hers. She forced the wistful, hungry light from her expression just a second too late.
“Eileen—”
She walked up slowly behind him as he braced his hands on the vanity. Something to hold on to. She shifted the gun to hang behind her, threading her arms gently around the grid of his belly, under his shirt. He sighed, dropping his head lower, and he felt her cheek nestle against his back.
He made a move to turn, but she stopped him. “No, Pete. Don’t.”
“Eileen.” He felt her shake against him, and realized she was crying. “Let me—”
“No!” She squeezed him tight, and he was unable to stifle a groan of pain. She eased her grip, but did not let go. “If you hold me—I might never let go of you. Can’t you see I’m drowning, Peter J.?” Her voice was hoarse with tears.
“Let me help you, then!”
“There is no help.”
He felt her turn her head, letting the tears run down to be caught in the material of his shirt.
“Hey. You’re rubbing salt in the wounds back there.” He could feel the sting in his abraded skin.
She gave a short laugh at his lame joke and reluctantly released him. He turned, letting go of the vanity, propping his butt on the edge of it where his hands had been, and he opened his arms to her. She looked at him, tears still glistening in her eyes.
McShane had made her into what she was, Pete thought. Killed her brother…and, by extension, her mother. Now, he was killing Eileen, as well. She’d asked him earlier if he could imagine losing a brother…he had. One to the drug wars, and now maybe another to McShane’s craziness…he had a mother…a sister…was it so much to comfort the girl she had been before McShane came into her life and ruined it?
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