Crashing Waves

by Mark Stone

  Kate swallowed hard as she looked at the screen. It was a live shot from a helicopter. Then, in the right hand corner, security footage from inside the bank showed a boy standing in the center of the room. The newscaster explained that, as opposed to what happened with the robberies in Vero beach, the boy with the bomb on his chest forced everyone, including the employees of the bank, to evacuate. They hadn’t even opened the vault.

  So, so what was the guild after?

  The answer came as Kate studied the screen and the boy on it. It was Patrick and, strapped to his chest, was an explosive device. He was shirtless and, written in what appeared to be blood across the visible part of his chest and shoulders were the words “Come here. You have Twenty Minutes”.

  Oh God, she couldn’t believe Anchor was right. She suddenly felt a mixture of fear and anger, and she didn’t like it. It was happening here and, for whatever reason, her godfather wanted her to have a front row seat to it.

  Chapter 26

  “Are you sure this is the best idea?” Anchor asked, looking over at Kate as she ripped through, the traffic- straddling the shoulder of the road- as she made her way toward the bank where Patrick was being televised.

  “I don't see where I have much of a choice,” Kate answered, pulling off the exit and toward the line of police cars which had converged around the bank. "Patrick has a bomb strapped to his chest, with a message strewn across him that's obviously for me." She took a deep breath, veering the car beside one of the dozen or so squad cars pulled up beside the bank. "If I don't go in there, then he's very likely to get killed."

  "He's very likely to get killed anyway," Anchor said, pushing his door open and stepping out into the bank parking lot. He yelled at Kate as she did the same. "You have no idea what this Albert person wants from you. For all we know, he could want to get you in there just so he could make sure you died alongside Patrick when he detonates the damned device."

  Anchor thought he had made a good point there. After all, he was speaking rationally. He was making sense. Kate must have either not agreed with that though, or she just didn't care. Either way, she started toward the line of police officers gathered outside of the bank.

  "Stop it!" Anchor said, and grabbed her arm as he caught up with her.

  She pulled away from him, stopping in her tracks and spinning to meet him. Her face was determined, though not angry, as she glared up at him.

  "What do you want me to do, Anchor?" she asked, her jaw set. "This is the job. Throwing ourselves into situations like this; it's what we do." She let out a sigh. "Look. I don't blame you for not wanting to do this. For anyone other than a cop, it's a crazy thing to ask, but it is what it is. If it makes you feel any better, I doubt very seriously this is about murdering me in front of a live television audience. Albert has been around, an hour and a half from me, for years now. He's had ample opportunity to kill me if that was what he wanted. I don't see the reason to turn it into a big spectacle."

  "Don't you get it though?" Anchor asked. "This entire thing has been a big spectacle. Choosing the relatives of the people who went down on that boat, showcasing the jewels during every robbery; it all means something. He's doing something. I just can't tell what it is."

  "That's too bad," Kate said, turning and walking toward the police officers again. "Because we're out of time."

  Anchor didn't try to stop her again. He had only been her partner for a short time now. Still, he knew there was no getting through to her once she set her mind on something. She had called him stubborn before but, the truth was, she was every bit as hardheaded as he was, if not more so.

  "You can't come here," a kid with a badge and a toothy grin said as the pair neared the gaggle of officers, the clear nexus of the operation.

  "The hell I can't. Now stand back and let me talk to someone who matters," Kate said, whipping out her own badge in one fluid motion. She didn't even stop for the poor kid to respond.

  "Sorry," Anchor winced, shrugging at the young officer. "She's had a rough couple of days."

  Kate cut toward the officers, making her way to the plain clothes guys. Anchor hadn't been on the force very long, but he had been to enough of the academy and seen enough Law and Order on television to know that guys “out of uniform” were the ones you wanted to talk to in a situation like this.

  ...even if they didn't necessarily want to talk to you.

  "Who are God's green earth do you people think you are, and what the hell do you think you're doing?" A gruff man who had enough stubble on his face to both give Anchor a run for his money and make him think the man hadn't slept in days, shouted as the pair neared him.

  "I'm Detective Katherine Cross, and this is my consultant Russell Anchorage," she answered. "And we're here to put an end to this."

  "Your consultant?" the man asked, narrowing his eyes as he looked over to Anchor. "Is that even a thing?"

  "Apparently," Kate muttered. "Look, I'm from Vero Beach. As I'm sure you've heard by now, what's happening here is connected to a string of crimes back in my hometown, a string of crimes that I've been investigating." She pointed to the closed-circuit feed running through a monitor at the center of the group. It showcased Patrick, standing there in the bank with the bomb across his torso and the message written across his chest. "I know that kid. I was there shortly after he was taken."

  "I was there when he was actually taken," Anchor said. Then, seeing the unhappy glares he got from both Kate and the other officer, he added, "Not that it's a competition or anything."

  "The message on his chest, it's for me," Kate said, nodding at the man.

  "How can you be sure about that?" The man asked, folding his arms over his chest.

  "Because, like I said, I've been working on this case, and that fact hasn't gone unnoticed by the Willful Guild here," Kate said.

  "Is that what they're calling themselves?" The man asked, rolling his eyes.

  "Oftentimes, bands of pirates gave themselves names as they sailed and pillaged. It was thought to strengthen their bond as well as forge a reputation to strike fear into the hearts of anyone who might hear about them," Anchor said.

  "This is what he does for you?" The plain clothes man asked, looking from Kate to Anchor and back again.

  "Sometimes he runs into danger and I have to save him," Kate answered, shrugging.

  "Perfect," the man said. "Look, Detective Cross, I'm sure you mean well here, but I can't go handing an event that's turned into a media circus off to some detective from another county and her consultant just because she has a hunch about it."

  "I understand that," Kate answered. "But it's more than a hunch, sir. He cleared the bank. He took no money and, more than that, he got rid of any bank staff who might be able to open the vaults for him." She shook her head. "The guild isn't getting a dime from this. Doesn't that make you wonder what it's all for?"

  "Well yes," the man admitted. "But that doesn't mean-”

  "His conditions," Kate said, cutting the man off. "I bet he had one. He asked you to allow the surveillance feed to be publicly televised."

  "How do you know that?" The man asked.

  "Because it's what makes sense," she said. "He did that so that I could see it, so I'd know to come here. He wants me to come inside"

  "Inside the bank?" the man asked.

  "It's the only way this ends," Kate said. "I'm not sure what he wants with me but, if I don't, that whole building will go down and who knows how much else of this city block. This guy isn't playing around, sir."

  "Who?" The man asked. "Who is this 'he' you're talking about? Certainly not the boy. He's about to piss his pants in there."

  "No. Not him," Kate said. "This is the plan of someone I thought was dead, someone the entire world thought was dead. Have you ever heard of Albert Kane, sir?"

  "No, I haven't, but I do know your superior officer over there in Vero Beach. Our daughters went to school together. I'm giving him a call. If he backs up what you're saying, then I'll consider al
lowing you to go into that bank. If he doesn't, I'm going to need you to stand down. Understood?"

  "Understood," Kate said.

  Kate stepped back, grabbing Anchor's hand and pulling him away from the cops.

  He thought it was to give the man a little privacy as he called Marcus. As soon as she got him out of earshot of the others though, he found out it was to hand him a pistol.

  "What's this?" Anchor asked, his heart jumping as he looked up at Kate.

  "It's to cover me," she answered. "Or, at least, to give the other officers pause when they try to come after me."

  "Come after you?" Anchor asked.

  "Anchor," she said, shaking her head. "Do you really think Marcus is going to let me just walk into that bank?"

  "No!" Anchor said. "In fact, I was kind of counting on it."

  "Well, I wasn't," Kate said. "This is about me. I don't know why, but it is. I can't let that kid die for me, and I can't let anyone else suffer because of what my godfather is doing." She nodded. "I have to put an end to this."

  "And what if it puts an end to you?" Anchor asked, his eyes widening.

  "If he wanted to kill me, he would have already," Kate said. "This is about Albert wanting something else, and I'm going to find out what it is, whether you want to help me or not."

  Anchor pursed his lips. "Is it possible that I'm rubbing off on you in all the wrong ways?"

  "I'd say, at this point, it's probable," she answered. "Now get ready. This isn't going to be pretty."

  With that, Kate bolted passed the barricade and off toward the bank.

  "Hey!" The man shouted, his ear pressed to the phone. "Stop that woman!"

  "Or don't," Anchor said, pointing the gun at the group of officers. "You could also, you know, freeze or whatever."

  Kate was right. This wasn't going to be pretty.

  Chapter 27

  "Do they grow them all as stupid as the two of you in Vero Beach, or did I just get lucky?" the man who'd called Marcus, a police chief himself, who Anchor had come to learn was named Clint asked, shaking his head and fuming at the former reality star.

  After being tackled and stripped of the weapon he'd hesitantly held on the group of officers in an attempt to allow Kate the cover she needed to get into the bank, Anchor had been threatened with legal action and screamed at more than he could have imagined.

  He didn't blame Clint. What he had done was reckless. It was stupid and dangerous. It was absolutely illegal, but it was also necessary. And, whether he got arrested or not, it was worth it. He had gotten Patrick into this. If he had been better at his job, then the boy wouldn't be in the position he was right now. There wouldn't be a bomb strapped to his chest. His life wouldn't be in immense and immediate danger. So, if there was even the slightest chance of saving him, Anchor had to help Kate take it.

  Not that he enjoyed the idea of Kate being in that bank. If he could, he would have taken her place. He'd have rushed into that building the way he had to the damned guild back in Chloe's bakery. The guild didn't want him though. Albert Kane was interested in getting Kate, for whatever reason. That meant only she could put a stop to this. He had done his part. All he could do is sit and wait to see what happened.

  Well, that and catch hell from Clint from every imaginable angle.

  "Are you even listening to me, you walking waste of space?" Clint asked, his face redder than any setting sun Anchor had seen on any of his travels. "Do you have any idea what the two of you have done? Do you even know the kind of danger you've put us all in? I should throw your ass under the jail for this."

  "Then do it!" Anchor said, a tidal wave of anger pulsating through him. From the closed-circuit television, he could see Kate on the screen. She was in there, standing right next to Patrick, standing right next to that bomb. One press of a button from Albert Kane and both she and Patrick would be reduced to nothing more than memories. All that mattered to him was keeping them safe. If Clint wanted to press charges, then so be it. Anchor didn't have the time or the patience to listen to the man beat some metaphorical drum all day though.

  "We did what we had to do," Anchor said, breathing heavy and shaking his head with his eyes plastered on the screen. He could see Kate's mouth moving as she inched closer to Patrick. There were no microphones in the bank though which meant that- even if Clint did shut the hell up- there was no way for Anchor to hear what was going on inside. That had to be left to his imagination, and that might have been worse than anything that might have actually happened.

  "What you did was completely irresponsible," Clint said. "And it puts the entire city block in danger." He narrowed his eyes, looking at Anchor for all the world like he wanted to punch him clear across the Caribbean. "Did either of you stop to think about why these lunatics would have wanted her inside, or what would happen if you were wrong?"

  "We're not wrong," Anchor said, setting his jaw himself.

  "You're too stupid to know whether you're wrong or not, you moron," Clint said. "And, if you were, do you have any idea what the Willful Guild, or whatever the hell you call them would do if they didn't want that woman in there? Because, if they didn't, then all that happened was that a police detective went running into a highly volatile situation. If you're wrong, then she's screwed up all the negotiating we've been doing here, and put everyone here in danger." He shook his head. "But I guess that's okay, because you have a goddamned hunch."

  Anchor blinked, a bit of doubt creeping into his mind. What if they were wrong? What if all that Kate did was seal her own fate?

  No. Anchor shook his head. He'd gone over this. It had made sense. It had to make sense.

  "Look," Anchor started. "If you want to—”

  His phone rang. Looking down, he saw the name Clark Wilkins flash across the screen.

  "What the hell is that?" Clint asked, growling at the man.

  "Someone connected to this," Anchor said. "And a call I need to take."

  "Not a step," Clint said, and it wasn't a question. "You take that call if you need to, but you don't take one damned step. Is that understood?'

  Anchor took a deep breath. "Seems like the least I can do." Picking up the phone, he said, "Clark. What's wrong?"

  "Nothing, sir," Clark answered. "It's just, after you left, I got to thinking about what you'd said. You see, after my wife left, I got my brother over here. We took some of her stuff and moved it into the storage shed. I just couldn't bear to look at it. The thing is, it must have slipped my mind when you were here. But I went to look around a few minutes ago, and I found something strange."

  "Strange?" Anchor asked. "What do you mean by strange?"

  "She had this box of magazines," Clark said uneasily. "They were— they were men's magazines."

  Anchor's heart jumped.

  "I'm not sure why she'd have had them," he said. "She's not that kind of lady, if you know what I mea—”

  "Clark," Anchor said, his eyes widening. "I need you to flip through the pages. Tell me if your wife made any markings. Tell me if she circled anything in any of the articles."

  "How did you … how did you know that?" Clark asked, stammering.

  Anchor's mind raced, as the truth of what was going on unlocked, the last puzzle piece falling into place.

  "The writer of the article," Anchor said, swallowing hard. "Is his name James Abernathy?"

  "You know all of this," Clark said. "How did you-”

  "I need to go, Clark," Anchor said. "I know what's going on now, and I'm going to make it right."

  Anchor hung up the phone, remembering the magazines in Patrick's trailer and finally realizing what they and the circles in the articles meant.

  "We have to get her out of there," Anchor said, looking over at the screen. Kate was still standing there, still talking to Patrick. She had no idea what she had just thrown herself into.

  "That's what I've been saying," Clint said.

  "No!" Anchor said. "You don't understand. He's part of it! Patrick is part of it! He's been i
n on it the entire time!"

  As the words left his mouth, the screen he had been looking at cut to snow. Someone had cut the feed.

  "God in Heaven," he muttered. Jumping forward, Anchor darted toward the bank himself. This time though, the officers grabbed him, stopping him from proceeding.

  "No!" he screamed. "You have to let me go! You don't understand. She doesn't know what's coming. She doesn't—”

  And, just like that, the entire bank blew up.

  Chapter 28

  Kate woke slowly, her body aching and her mind racing. The world was dark, completely dark. As she jostled to consciousness, the memory of where she had been coming back to her. The last moments before the blast filled her head, and they royally pissed her off.

  She had been standing there, talking to Patrick and trying to calm him down. She had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Albert Kane to reveal the reason he'd wanted her in that bank.

  And then it did...and it was nothing like what she expected.

  A bell rang throughout the bank, as if to signal that everything was changing. Then it did. Patrick turned on her. He shot her with a tranquilizer, smiling like some kind of evil mastermind and stripped the vest off himself.

  Kate couldn't move as Patrick punched a few buttons on the vest, pulling a golden coin that almost certainly was one of the Jewels of Pascal out of the thing and setting the damned thing to explode.

  She tried to move her hands, to move her legs, to do anything other than slump against the wall, sliding to the floor as useless as a scarf in a Florida summer. All she could do was sit there, eyes open as she watched numbers appear on the vest, counting down from five minutes.

  "Time to go," Patrick said, standing over her, still smiling, still looking as evil as Kate had ever seen anyone look.

  He scooped her up and walked her out the back, tossing her into the back of a dark van.