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

by Laura Acton

Whispering, Howard said, “Forced to dress like the robbers.”

  Acknowledging the man with a slight nod, Jon put up a hand telling them to stay put. When they bobbed their heads, he moved forward with Loki following. Approaching the main room, they began to pick up pieces of a heated conversation.

  Heroics and Handcuffs

  6

  July 13

  Inside Central Bank – Main Area

  Franco’s stunned expression morphed into a snarl as the brash man held him at gunpoint. Still holding the phone in his hand, he’d answered it just before being startled by two gunshots. As his initial surprise wore off, he demanded, “Who the hell are you?”

  Dan started with an ingrained automatic response, “Master Corporal—” but stopped. He continued, “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Shit! Just our luck! We get fucking Rambo,” Steve Brown exclaimed to his brother.

  Franco made eye contact with Noah, who had his back to the blond. Noah was closest to the remote. His eyes flicked down to the device. Rambo still stood within blast range.

  Noah understood. He stayed still and waited for Franco’s signal.

  Dan ordered, “Move away from the detonator.”

  Franco shook his head taking one step toward his gun. “No, I think not.” He glanced at his dead cousin. His gaze refocused on the arrogant blond bastard, wishing he could take slow and painful vengeance on Ralph’s killer, but they needed to escape—so blowing him to bits would have to suffice. “You may not miss as you claim, but you can’t kill all of us before we kill you.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on that,” Dan cockily said as he took several steps towards the table where the controller lay. “Stay where you are, or I swear I’ll put a bullet between your eyes first.”

  Franco snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  Steve stared at the hole between Ralph’s eyes. His gut turned recalling how fast the guy shot his cousin. “Franco, stay still. Rambo took out Ralphie with ease while he was turning.”

  “I’m not afraid of some asshole with a gun.” Franco flicked his eyes to Noah giving him the signal to move as he prepared to lunge for his weapon.

  At the same time, Jon, Loki, Bram, and Ray made their presence known yelling, “Police, TRF! Don’t move. Show me your hands. Drop your weapons.”

  Noah lunged for the detonator intending to depress the button.

  Dan began to lower his rifle in response to the command and the officer’s gun trained on him as he noted a target go for the remote. Shit! With no action left to him, he dropped the rifle and started to sprint away from the bomb.

  The deafening explosion rocked the building. Dan was lifted by the shockwave and hurled forward. His body slammed into the metal teller counter leaving an indentation before landing with a thud on the marble floor. He lay inert on his stomach as particles of wreckage cascaded down upon him.

  Just after the blast, under cover of the confusion and billowing smoke, Noah grabbed Jonas’ arm, dragging him to the gaping entrance.

  Luckily positioned in a protected area Jon, Bram, Loki, and Ray covered their faces as the detonation demolished the entire entrance. They recovered swiftly as the room filled with smoke and falling debris. They moved as one towards the reception area to contain the subjects.

  Believing they could take out the cops, Franco and Steve dove for their weapons and came up firing at the TRF officers. Silas cowered on the floor as gunfire erupted around him and the Brown brothers fell dead near him.

  Outside Central Bank

  Noah and Jonas Barton ran out with their hands up, assuming scared expressions, and yelling, “Hostage, don’t shoot.”

  Uniform officers surged forward and ushered the two out of harm’s way as more patrolmen swarmed the building’s front to prevent subjects from escaping. The scene outside appeared chaotic as a cop escorted them to a cordoned off zone to await medical treatment and questioning.

  After being left with two constables who focused on the bank instead of them, Jonas ducked his head leaning close to his brother and whispered, “Stupid cops.”

  “Works in our favor. Let’s get out of here,” Noah agreed as the two slipped off without being seen.

  Inside Central Bank – Reception Area

  As the smoke began to clear, Jon called out, “Two subjects neutralized. One in custody. Two are gone. Nick, did anyone come out of the building?”

  While Ray assisted a man, who claimed to be the manager, Loki and Bram initiated a methodical search the area for the two missing subjects.

  Nick moved forward with the rest of the police with his gun drawn. “Not that I saw but I was coming out of the truck. Give me a moment.” In a few seconds, he reported. “A patrol officer said two hostages emerged right after the detonation. They escorted them to a secured area.”

  Jon raced towards the gaping hole where doors used to be as he shouted, “They’re not hostages. They’re subjects.”

  Inside Central Bank – Main Area

  Dan groaned as he regained consciousness and rolled to his side. His hearing distorted by a persistent ringing, a result of the blast. Pushing himself up to a seated position, he leaned his back against the teller counter for support. His head throbbed with each heartbeat. Not another concussion.

  The pounding intensified as he started to take stock of his physical condition. Damn, I hate concussions. He glanced at his bicep noting blood freely running down his arm. Only a graze. Burns like hell, but doesn’t look like it needs stitches.

  He remained in place knowing he would have to answer for shooting one of the targets. Dan focused his somewhat blurry vision on a tall, bald TRF officer racing out of the building. As other officers rushed in, the ringing in his ears subsided enough so he could actually hear.

  Patrol officer John Brewer spotted a man dressed in all black and rushed over with his weapon drawn. “Don’t move. Hands on your head.”

  Dan winced as he slowly lifted both arms and placed his hands as ordered.

  John’s buddies, Dayton Hess and Jean-Luc Fouquet came forward, both with their weapons drawn. John said, “Got one of the bank robbers here. Cuff him. He’s not getting away.”

  “I’m not—” Dan started to say but was cut off.

  John barked, “Save it. We don’t want to hear anything you have to say. You’re under arrest.”

  Becoming dizzy as he was roughly thrust to the ground by two officers, Dan had no opportunity to speak. His face was forcefully pushed into the cold marble tile by one officer as another kneeled heavily on his back—right on the tender spot where Murphy punched him five times.

  A soft moan escaped him even though Dan tried stifle it. A wave of nausea hit him as they yanked his arms behind his back and cuffed him so tightly the metal bit into his wrist. Yep, a damned concussion.

  Clamping his jaw tight, fighting an intense need to hurl, Dan couldn’t explain the situation to them. Jerked up to his feet, Dan swayed as the ringing in his ears messed with his equilibrium. He swallowed hard, as the motion set off another round of nausea—he refused to puke and embarrass himself.

  Hands firmly gripped his shoulders as he was roughly shoved out of the bank. As he stumbled along, his head pounding, Dan wondered why he decided to rejoin the Toronto Police Force. It seemed nothing had changed in the nine years since he left—these constables are idiots. He hoped the TRF would be different.

  Outside Central Bank

  Furious, Jon paced back and forth. Patrol officers fouled up and allowed two subjects to escape. They should’ve detained and properly guarded the men claiming to be hostages until it was verified that they weren’t involved.

  Loki, now back in the command truck and tapping into security cameras in the area, attempted to determine which direction they went and to obtain a picture of them. None of them had gotten a decent look at the two who slipped away.

  Jon wanted to take action, but they needed a reasonable direction to head in or some lead, until then they were stuck here. He and Bram handed off their weapons
and gloves to the Nonpartisan Review Board agents since they were the officers who neutralized two of the subjects. They were still actively involved in a critical call with two missing subjects, so per protocol, NRB interviews would wait until they were done.

  Lexa stopped in front of Jon. Infuriated with herself for not preventing the subject’s escape. “Sorry I didn’t stop them.”

  Ray placed a hand on Lexa’s shoulder. “Not your fault, Lexa. Not your responsibility to detain them. You were on the roof anyway. Not much you could’ve done from there except shoot them.”

  “Maybe I should’ve,” Lexa groused.

  Knowing Lexa would never shoot unless warranted, her acerbic response made Bram, Ray, and Jon chuckle, releasing a bit of tension for them.

  Lexa sighted three constables leading the blue-eyed man away. He was cuffed and bleeding. “Jon, what are those officers doing with Broderick?”

  With only a cursory glance toward a squad car, Jon said, “He shot one subject and injured another. He will need to be questioned.”

  Ray, Bram, and Lexa observed as Broderick was led towards a patrol car. Bram noted his unsteady gait and a blood trail on his arm. “He doesn’t look well. He was close to the blast, and he’s bleeding. He should be checked out.” Bram started towards the patrolmen to ensure medics examined Broderick.

  Commander Gambrill arrived and surveyed the scene. He spied Sergeant Pastore with Inspector Pope. As he strode toward them, he glimpsed three officers escorting a cuffed man. He noted blood running down the man’s arm then golden blond hair registered and Walter’s eyes moved to his face.

  What the hell is Dan doing here? Furthermore, why is he in cuffs and bleeding? Walter changed directions and headed towards Dan.

  Loki called out, “I got a direction. They went down King Street.”

  Jon recalled Bram. “We need to go.”

  Bram did an about face and jogged to the SUV. He wanted to ensure the man was okay, but Bram had a job to do. His priority was to find two dangerous subjects. Thoughts of the blond man faded as he listened to Loki telling them what he discovered and giving them directions.

  Two SUVs sped away with Ray, Bram, Lexa, and Jon. Loki remained in the truck tracking the progress of the subjects. He picked up their trail, and as he followed the two men on the traffic cams, he informed the team they carjacked a couple and drove off.

  Commander Gambrill approached the officers holding Dan with a stern expression. “Why is this man in custody?”

  Officer John Brewer answered, “He’s one of the robbers.”

  “Highly unlikely! Dan, what were you doing in there?” Walter said.

  Dan focused on the commander, still trying to quell his nausea. “Moving my accounts from Ottawa to Toronto, sir. Bit of bad timing, huh?”

  Walter commanded, “Release him from the cuffs now.”

  Patrol officer Jean-Luc Fouquet balked, as he pushed the man toward the cruiser’s rear door. “He’s dressed as one of the perps.”

  Dan’s injured arm banged into the patrol car. He swayed and winced as his head pounded and swallowed hard to suppress the need to hurl.

  “Uncuff him this instant. He is wounded. Did you have him checked by medics?” Gambrill glared at the patrolman who shoved Broderick.

  Officer Dayton Hess turned slightly red at the chastising tone. “No. But it’s only a cut, probably caused by debris from the explosion.”

  Dan swayed again as the edges of his vision turned gray. His eyelids suddenly felt heavy, his eyes rolled back, and he passed out.

  As Dan started to go down, Walter caught him and shouted, “I need EMS over here. Now!” Walter guided Dan’s full weight to the ground. He scowled at the three patrolmen. “Remove these cuffs from my TRF officer now! I will have your names and badge numbers. You need remedial training if you couldn’t see he is injured and in need of medical attention.”

  Constable Fouquet stood aside glowering as his rookie, Hess, scrambled to unlock the cuffs. Brewer mumbled, “He didn’t identify himself as TRF.”

  Gambrill pinned the man with a hard glare. “No excuse. Any damned fool can see this man is not well. He should’ve been treated by EMS before taking him into custody. We’re officers of the law, not thugs. We have protocols you are required to follow. You damn well better hope my officer isn’t badly injured or it could mean your badges.”

  After handing the scene off to Inspector Pope and telling NRB his men would report for interviews when the call completed, Nick strode over to Commander Gambrill wondering what was going on. As he approached, Nick heard Gambrill state Broderick was one of his officers. Exceedingly odd, none of the TRF teams have run any selection trials lately.

  Walter stood and addressed Nick. “Can you tell me how Broderick got injured?”

  They both stepped to the side as two paramedics approached, knelt, and began examining Dan.

  Surprised Gambrill knew the man’s name Nick figured something was up. He didn’t know what but he answered Gambrill before posing any of his own questions. “He was in the bank. We believed he was a hostage who went rogue, knocking out one subject, acquiring a weapon, and neutralizing another subject. He stood in the main room, quite close to the explosion.”

  Kesha, the senior medic, peered up, “We need to transport him if that is the case. He could have head trauma in addition to the gunshot wound.”

  Nick blinked in surprise. “Gunshot?”

  As Kesha covered the gash with gauze, she said, “His arm appears to have been grazed by a bullet. Distinctive cauterizing on the edges. Not too deep. Might not need stitches but this is going to hurt for a bit.”

  Hess paled, turning his worried eyes to Training Officer Fouquet, thoughts of his career flew out the window. They had roughed up a TRF officer injured in the line of duty. Being in his probationary first year meant he could probably kiss his job goodbye. He murmured in disbelief, “I thought it was only a cut.”

  Kesha shook her head as she finished dressing the wound and her partner put on the cervical collar to prevent potential spinal damages when they moved him. Before turning their patient from his stomach to his back, she lifted the patient’s shirt to check for additional injuries. “Christ! Mack, look at this. Appears he went ten rounds in a boxing ring.”

  Walter caught a glimpse of the black and blue before the female medic lowered Dan’s shirt. He turned to Pastore. “I want a detailed report of what occurred in there on my desk by tomorrow morning.”

  The medics carefully rolled Dan onto a backboard, strapped him in, and lifted him to the gurney. Kesha asked, “Anyone going with him?”

  “What hospital will you be taking him to?” Walter replied.

  “Saint Joseph’s.’”

  “I’ll be there shortly. His name is Daniel Broderick,” Walter scrutinized Dan as they loaded him into an ambulance. Christ, Dan isn’t in Toronto for a full day, and he is already hurt. What the hell am I going to tell William? William placed Daniel in my care. Damn! The extensive bruising concerned him. Too dark to be from this incident—has to be several days old. What happened to him?

  Pissed off at himself, Officer Brewer knew he screwed up big time. He had rushed judgment in the heat of the moment—certain the man was one of the perps. He had hoped to use catching him as a feather in his cap when he applied to the TRF. Now he would be lucky not to be demoted. Brewer handed the commander a piece of paper. “Our names and badge numbers, sir.”

  Gambrill nodded and put the paper in his pocket as the officers dispersed.

  When it was only the two of them, Nick said, “I heard you say Broderick is one of your officers. I didn’t know we were getting a new officer. I’m not aware any of the teams running trials. Who is he replacing?”

  Walter said with authority, “We’ll discuss that later. How is your team doing on locating the escaped subjects?”

  Nick turned his headset back on and asked, “Jon, status.”

  Over the headset, Jon’s voice was full of frustration, and his wor
ds were clipped as he reported. “We lost them. They went into a residential area with no traffic cameras. We found the ditched car, but they’re long gone. A witness attending a party said they saw two men exit the car and get into a white Corolla. No license plate number yet. Loki said that model and color combination is the third most popular in the country. We’re interviewing those at the party to determine whose car it is. When we find out, we can put out a BOLO on it.”

  Nick relayed the information to Gambrill.

  Gambrill nodded. “Good work today. I’ll leave this in your capable hands. I’m heading to the hospital to check on Broderick and to arrange for Inspector Pope to take his statement since he neutralized a subject.”

  Nick’s eyes tracked Gambrill as he strode away. He briefly wondered about Daniel Broderick, but he had more pressing matters to attend to. He trotted over to the truck. Perhaps Loki would work his techie magic and locate the vehicle. Nick didn’t like the idea of letting two ruthless men go free to wreak havoc on the citizens of this city again.

  Mmmmm Tasty

  7

  July 14

  Grand Citadel Hotel – Bar

  Dan nursed a beer as he viewed a football game on a huge screen mounted on the bar’s wall. It had been ages since he spent time watching a sporting event. After six years in the field, sitting in a bar, drinking beer, and leisurely taking in a game without ever-present danger was a foreign concept for him.

  In the final quarter, the equally matched teams, Hamilton Tiger-Cats and Toronto’s Argonauts, played a zero to zero game until the Argonauts scored a moment ago. Brody would be happy—he always rooted for them. Winds used to give Brody guff insisting the Ottawa Redblacks were better than Brody’s favorite Argonauts.

  Almost eight thirty, Dan noted after checking his wristwatch. He scanned the bar again sensing someone approaching. The waitress. Safe. Sighing, he realized he unconsciously chose this spot, one with his back covered and a full view of his surroundings which made him less vulnerable. So many lifesaving habits became second nature and hard to suppress—they popped up without him even thinking about them.