FORSAKEN: On The Edge 0f Oblivion (Beauty 0f Life Book 1)

by Laura Acton

  Franco Brown glared at Noah Barton then pointed at the dead man. He snarled, “Killing him was not part of the plan. You need to follow my plan, or you and your brother are out.”

  Noah’s cold eyes stared back at the leader of the group. “We’re gonna kill them all anyway. Why not get a jump on it?”

  “Because your gunshot alerted the people in the office and outside the building. The alarm tripped before we planned. Now we have to improvise, you idiot,” Franco barked.

  Noah only shrugged.

  Franco and his brother, Steve, grabbed the manager, hustling him into the back as Franco threw angry words over his shoulder. “Watch the hostages and don’t screw up again. We need time and don’t need the TRF storming in here because you’re trigger happy. If you can’t do that, then I’ll put a bullet in you myself.”

  Dan noted the discord. He might be able to use it to his advantage. As he slyly surveyed the room, he tried to predict the blast pattern based on the placement of the C-4. Although not an explosives expert, that had been Ripsaw and Brody, he had enough exposure and experience to understand how certain explosives behaved. If he could move the captives to the customer lounge he had waited in before the assailants entered, they stood a decent chance of surviving with minimal injuries.

  How am I going to do that? He turned and skimmed those around him, they appeared scared but remained quiet and compliant. Everyone except the bank manager and the four hidden in the closet knelt here. Two of the thugs had taken the frightened manager back to the vault area, leaving four targets out here to guard them.

  Four to one. Not bad odds. It would be better if he was armed with more than a blunt desktop tool. He marked their positions and calculated in his head what moves he should make to take them all out. Before he could do that though, he needed to find out who held the detonator and convince the other hostages to run to the safer area when he made his move.

  As he studied the hostages again assessing who to approach, Dan’s gaze landed on the little boy and spotted a baseball in the boy’s hand. That might work. The baseball would give him two weapons. Hurled with enough force, he would eliminate one hostile. The long, thin opener thrown using the technique and force of a knife toss would dispatch another. Two could be taken out in split seconds leaving him facing two to one odds. Much better.

  He cast an eye over the targets who guarded them to gauge how closely they watched those they had detained. Luckily, they paid little attention. Two of the hostiles murmured to each other, and the other two concentrated on the back room. Turning slightly to the security guard to his left, Dan whispered, “When I make my move, you need to move everyone to the waiting area.”

  Howard Thrumbill gaped at the young man. “No. We just cooperate with them. TRF will negotiate us out of here.”

  “Don’t think that is happening.” Dan flicked his eyes to the C-4.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Get us out of here alive,” Dan said.

  “No heroics. Do what they tell us, and we’ll leave here alive. That’s the way it always works,” Howard urged.

  Dan shook his head. “No, we won’t. They plan to blow the explosives and kill us all to cover their exit.”

  “How do you know that?” Howard eyed the man carefully.

  “Is there a back exit?” Dan asked, ignoring the security guard’s question.

  “No. Just the front.”

  “That’s how. They create chaos blowing up the place and slip out. Or they have another way out and use the explosion to impede the cops coming inside. Either way, we’re all dead if we stay here.”

  “What are you going to do?” Howard asked again.

  Dan stared at the guard. “Can you get them to listen to you and move?”

  Howard nodded.

  “I need the boy’s baseball. Quietly, pass it along to have him roll it to me as you relay the instructions,” Dan specified then turned to his right and repeated the question to the two men in the expensive business suits. He obtained agreement from them, too.

  Dan waited and kept an eye on the targets as his instructions were passed to all hostages. In his peripheral vision, Dan registered people subtly shifting and preparing to rush to a safer location. A small grin came to his face as he located the detonator. The remote was in the vest pocket of the target next to Hawaiian shirt man’s executioner.

  He decided the trigger-happy target deserved a close encounter with a baseball—the most significant threat since he killed already. The blunted opener would find a home in the neck of the one blocking their path to safety. After taking them out, Dan would go for the device. Once secured, he would handle the fourth target out here. Hopefully, the constabularies would make a tactical entry and help with the two in the back. If not, he’d deal with them too, and disarm the explosives. A workable plan!

  Outside Central Bank

  Three SUVs and a command truck outfitted with the latest technical equipment pulled to a rapid stop near the critical call location. The six members of Alpha Team exited the vehicles. Sergeant Pastore headed for the senior patrol officer on scene to obtain current details. Jon and Lexa prepared their sniper rifles. Loki and Ray moved to the truck. Bram attached his MP5 and approached the others.

  Jon glanced at Lexa. “You’re Zulu One. I’ll take Zulu Two.”

  Lexa grinned. She liked it when Jon made her primary sniper. Typically, he took the position unless he was needed elsewhere or closer to the action for entry. “High ground across the street?”

  After a quick visual survey of the nearby buildings, Jon said, “The bakery’s roof should give you a view of the main area and the second floor.”

  “Copy.” Lexa trotted toward the bakery on the opposite side of the road. She had four flights of stairs to climb.

  Loki called out over the team’s headset, “Almost have access to the security cameras. There’s no audio to tap into, though.”

  “Sending the blueprints to you, Jon,” Ray said as he hit the button on the keyboard.

  Jon pulled out his phone and began reviewing the building layout.

  Bram looked over Jon’s shoulder and after several minutes commented, “No rear exit. Our only entrance point is the front or rappelling off the roof and going in through a second story window.”

  Zooming in on a section of the drawings, Jon formed an idea. “Possible ventilation shaft. Ray, can you find us more detailed plans of the air ducts?”

  “On it,” Ray replied.

  Nick returned to Jon and Bram. He didn’t like the situation they faced—getting everyone out safe would be difficult with what he learned from the first responders. “Appears we have four to six well-armed subjects. The officer reported multiple hostages being lined up near the glass doors.”

  “Makes sense. The only exit. They’re limiting our entry options,” Jon said.

  “It appears so. They also reported seeing one subject affixing plastic explosives to the doors,” Nick added.

  From her position on the bakery roof, Lexa reported, “Zulu One in position. I confirm C-4, lots of it. The hostages are too close. If that goes off, they’re all dead.”

  Nick resisted the urge to rub his face. “Loki, we got eyes yet?”

  Frustration laced Loki’s words, “I’m in, but they’ve disabled every single camera except one which shows the main room. I count twenty-three alive. One man is on the floor.” He zoomed the camera a bit. He sucked in a breath. “He’s dead. A bullet between the eyes.”

  “Can we run facial recognition on the subjects yet?” Nick asked.

  Zooming back out, Loki viewed the central area checking all subjects. “Negative. They are all wearing black ski masks. Four heavily armed subjects are dressed all in black. Might be more in the other areas which have been blacked out.”

  Nick blew out a frustrated breath. “This doesn’t feel right. Why pick a bank with one entry point then booby trap their only means of exiting?”

  Bram offered, “Maybe they have another e
scape method. Perhaps they plan to blow an escape route in the back when they blow the front.”

  “We need some uniformed officers covering the rear,” Jon stated to Nick.

  Nick nodded and conveyed the need to Inspector Roman Pope who had just arrived on scene. Patrol officers were swiftly dispatched to cover the building’s rear on the off chance the subjects opted for that exit plan.

  Ray suggested, “The sewers? I can check city plans to see if there is a mainline running under the bank. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but with those explosives, they could create an access point, and their escape path would go undetected.”

  Nick thought the idea held merit. “Check it out.”

  Ray began to search the city records to find and pull up the sewer system in this area.

  Jon pondered aloud, “Why black out all the cameras but the one showing the hostages? Why do they want us to see them?”

  “To keep us from going in,” Lexa proposed. “I see movement. They are pulling four of the male hostages up and moving them out of my view.”

  Loki viewed the monitor noting where they were taken. “They’re out of visual range now. Appears they took them in the direction of the offices and a small waiting area.”

  Nick didn’t like this one bit. What is their plan? I need to talk to them. It will be a cold call without inside information. I would prefer to know the identity of the subjects first, but that isn’t happening this time. “Loki, patch me into the bank’s main number. I’m going to use the bullhorn first though to let them know we are calling them.”

  “Copy, two minutes.” Loki began to retrieve the numbers and patch the Boss’ phone into their coms so they could all hear the conversation.

  Nick moved closer to the entrance with Bram covering him with a shield to initiate contact. “This is Sergeant Nicholas Pastore with the Tactical Response Force. I’ll be calling you in a few minutes. Please pick up the phone. I would like to resolve this situation without any more loss of life.”

  Central Bank – Main Room

  Dan palmed the baseball and was about to make his move when the targets started pointing to men and telling them to rise and move. He reassessed his options as four men were pulled from the group, taken to the area he had sat waiting, and told to strip down to their boxers. Crap!

  One of the armed men came back and began eyeing the remaining four males, sizing them up. Jonas Barton pointed to one and demanded, “Up now and over with the others. Strip to your boxers.”

  “Why?” the businessman in the expensive suit asked.

  Pointing his weapon at the man’s head, Jonas growled, “Do it now, or I put a bullet through you. Your choice, though I would prefer to pop you now.”

  Hastily the suited man rose and did as instructed since the robber had coldly murdered one person. The five hostages stood in only their briefs when one of the black-clad hostiles began duct taping their mouths.

  Another hostile opened a large pack which he had been carrying. He pulled out black clothing and started throwing the articles at the men. “Put these on.”

  Comprehension dawned on Dan. Those selected are all about the same size as the targets. When the first man finished and was told to put on a ski mask, Dan suspicions were confirmed. They’re dressing innocent men identical to them which means they intend to assume the captive’s identities to escape.

  What can I do to prevent this? Dan’s mind raced trying to find a solution. His targets were now in the area which was safe, well, relatively safe from the explosives. If the hostages rushed in that direction, it would be suicide.

  Dan heard the bullhorn and announcement from the TRF. Well, isn’t this a wonderful introduction to how a TRF team works? Not so keen on being a hostage and saved by TRF only days before I begin with them. It will be embarrassing if the team I’m joining is the one out there.

  Franco strolled out from the vault area, “Almost ready?”

  Noah eyed Franco. “Need one more. Two are too fat. The last won’t really fit into the clothing either. Too tall and muscular.”

  “Don’t care how he looks in it. This isn’t a fashion show. Just place him nearest the C-4, and they won’t notice his clothes don’t fit. There won’t be enough of him left to tell,” Franco sneered.

  The target who pulled the clothes out of the bag came forward to Dan and pointed his assault rifle at him. “You … up and over there. You need a wardrobe change.”

  Dan stood as ordered. Regrettably, he had to leave the baseball on the floor, but he still retained the metal opener. Projecting a false docileness, yet taking deliberately slow steps, Dan obeyed. His mind working fervently to formulate a tactical strategy before he must remove his shirt and potentially lose the only weapon he possessed.

  Trigger-happy man, detonator man, and the leader went to the back room. Another of the targets returned to the front. Shit! There is no way to make a move which will keep the hostages safe with the detonator and three of the six targets out of my range. I need to bide my time and be patient.

  Dan excelled at being patient—a necessity for a sniper. The ability to lay still for days at a time in all sorts of weather allowed him to survive and keep his unit safe. Rushing could be disastrous. So, he would comply for now and wait for the right opportunity to take them out.

  Beginning to strip, Dan was relieved they hadn’t duct taped him yet. After kicking off his supple suede chukka boots and shimmying out of his soft jeans, Dan pulled on the black pants tossed at him. They only came to his calves, but at least the waist fit and wouldn’t impede his movements.

  He slipped on his boots, bending over to tie his laces. Rising slow, drawing out the inevitable, Dan began methodically unbuttoning. The prospect of removing his shirt held no appeal to him. With no undershirt on today, his scars would be on display for everyone once his top came off. So too would the bruises from the beating he received as he gathered his belongings in the barracks before catching his flight from Afghanistan to Ottawa.

  Distracted by his rage at the general, Dan allowed Murphy and three others to get the drop on him as he packed. He redirected the same fury to kick Murphy’s ass that day—took five MPs to pull him off. Dan smugly thought, I might be bruised, but Murphy was in worse shape and a bloody mess by the time they pulled me off. He didn’t hold back one ounce when he pummeled Murphy. Six years of putting up with Murphy’s and the general’s shit fueled his fists.

  Dan realized he was lucky he hadn’t end up in the brig. Fate smiled on him for once as Watchdog, a sniper in Hammer’s unit, happened to pass by and witness the incident. In his statement, he told the MPs Murphy jumped Dan, and he only defended himself. MPs hauled three off to cool their jets while medics were called for Murphy. He finished packing and left on the transport within the next hour.

  “Get a move on!” Steve Brown yelled at the hostage taking too much time to change clothes. His brother expected him to have them ready soon.

  Dan took a breath expecting the unpleasant reaction which would come as soon as his torso was revealed. He tended to bruise rather spectacularly, so his whole chest and back was quite colorful right now, which would make his pale scars more prominent than usual. He cautiously scanned to ascertain if he could slip his impromptu weapon into the waist of his jeans. No such luck. Sliding his empty hand out of his shirt first, Dan concealed the opener in the fabric as he gradually removed the other sleeve.

  All eyes riveted on him once he was fully exposed. He noted the gasps of a few female hostages as their hands covered their mouths and their eyes rounded in surprise. Yeah, this sucks. I hate being on display.

  “Jesus Christ!” Steve shouted catch sight of a myriad of thin white scars and dark bruising covering the back of the blond man.

  “Holy Shit!” Ralph Gruber stared at the man’s horribly scarred chest.

  Dan dropped the shirt gently, so the metal opener didn’t make a sound. He bent and reached for the black t-shirt he was supposed to put on.

  “What the hell happened to y
ou?” Leon Mumford gaped at the faded scars mixed with significant bruising as he shifted his weapon.

  “Wrong place, wrong time. Kinda like today,” Dan glibly answered as he pulled the small top over his head. The t-shirt was too tight, and hugged his broad shoulders, chest, and muscular biceps. Dan’s rippled six-pack abs were accentuated by the form-fitting shirt.

  Steve, Leon, and Ralph noted the rock-hard muscles which had been hidden under the loose shirt. Intimidated by his physique—definitely a man not to tangle with, Steve ordered his buddies, “Cover me while I tape him.”

  Two guns aimed at Dan. This would be a great time to make a move, except detonator man was near the vault. Dan submitted to having tape applied to his face. Every muscle in his body tensed.

  Being taken captive isn’t something he ever wanted to allow to happen again, but he couldn’t risk the lives of innocent people by acting rashly. It took everything he had not to lash out at his captors. His mouth taped shut Dan waited for them to make him put on the ski mask.

  Steve began rummaging in the bag. “I don’t see another mask. Are you sure you packed six?”

  “I’m sure. Move and let me find it.” Leon strode forward, and Steve moved allowing Leon to search. Coming up empty-handed, Leon said, “There were six in here. I guess it doesn’t really matter though. They don’t know what we look like, so the cops won’t know he isn’t one of us until after we’re long gone.”

  Dan was forced down to his knees at gunpoint just as a phone started ringing. The target Dan determined to be the kingpin came out from the back, answered, and began making outrageous demands. Ones Dan recognized would never be granted. Although the leader undoubtedly didn’t expect them to be fulfilled. The man appeared to be stalling for time—their real purpose must require additional time.

  Sapphire Blue Eyes

  5

  July 13

  Bakery Rooftop

  Lexa continued to scan the bank’s interior through her scope. She had seen a man in a business suit led out of sight. Several minutes later she witnessed a blond man in a light blue button-down shirt and jeans culled from the group of hostages. Since then, no other men had been moved.