by Nancy Adams
"Sweetheart, calm down, I need you to focus right now. We need to know what's going on, and we can't find out around here. All the phone lines are jammed and we don't have any way to get information here. It's a miracle I managed to get through to you, so you have to be our eyes and ears at the moment.”
“I know, I know," she said "and I will. The stupid TV is taking forever—no wait, here it is!" She was quiet for about 30 seconds, and then I heard, "Oh, God! Nate, there was a bomb, apparently a bomb went off on the ground floor of the courthouse where you're at! Oh my God, baby, I'm scared! All they're saying right now is that a bomb went off, but it doesn't look like much of the building is on fire. Wait—it says now there are people inside the building with guns, and the headline thing says that it looks like a domestic terrorist attack!"
"Okay, at least that gives us some idea of what's going on. If there's not a lot of fire, we should be able to find a way out of here. I'll call you back as soon as I can, Sweetheart, and do your best not to worry. We've been in worse positions than this, and we'll get through it.” I hung up before she could protest, because I knew she would.
I turned to the men and women around me and repeated what she had said. Almost everyone else had left the room, and it was just me, Albert and the other lawyers, Jim and the judge. Even the bailiff had fled.
"Look, we need to get out of here if we can, but if there really are terrorists in the building, that's not going to be easy. If we had weapons, we might be able to fight our way out, but that's not in the cards right now." I turned to the judge. "Ma'am,” I said, “I know some judges carry guns. Do you happen to have one?"
The judge nodded. "I do. You strike me as a military man?”
"Marine Corps, Ma'am," I said, and then pointed at Jim. “This is my father in law, another ex-marine.”
She nodded once more, then said, "Very well, gentlemen." She tossed off her judicial robe, reached under the back of the light jacket she wore beneath, extracted a nine millimeter Beretta and passed it to me. “This will probably do more good in your hands than in mine.”
“Thank you,” I said. Jim punched me lightly on the shoulder, an old Marine's way of saying, “Lead on!” I looked at the other lawyers who were still with us, and decided that I'd better do my best to get them out and to safety. I explained my plan, and they followed me to the stairwell.
The stairway was dark, of course, without the main electricity, but there were small emergency lights scattered through it. We were on the fifth floor; when I looked down as far as I could between the stairs, I could tell that it got even darker down below.
I decided that the smartest move was to try to head down the stairs and see what sort of opposition we might run into on our way to safety. At that point, my goal was simply to get these people out of the building. If that were possible, then great. Otherwise, I wanted to know what we were up against. There didn't seem to be any activity above us, and I was guessing that people had already moved from the upper floors and gone further down. That meant it was likely that I didn't have to worry about anything coming from above, so I held the pistol in ready grip, and moved down slowly to the fourth floor. I opened the safety door and peered out into the hall, but saw no one and heard no sound. I was beginning to think that my small group held the only ones who had not panicked and run down the stairs.
We started down towards the third floor, and that's when we suddenly heard shouting. Someone down below us, probably on the second floor, was shouting at other people to get down, to stay put, not to move or put up any resistance. The surprising part was that it was not a foreign-sounding voice that I heard, but a voice that might come from our own Midwest. I remember Katelynn saying that the news agency referred to it as “domestic terrorism.” That indicated that we might be dealing with a militia group, or some disgruntled Americans who decided to take the law into their own hands.
I pulled everyone back to the fourth floor and told them to wait in an office there while I tried to get more intel on the situation. Alone, I moved on down to the second floor, where I heard activity. I carefully opened the safety door and peeked outside into the hall, and saw a fairly large number of people kneeling or sitting against the hallway wall. Two men wearing camo fatigues and with long hair were walking up and down the hall, each of them holding a shotgun or rifle.
I had no way of knowing whether those two were the only hostage takers on the floor, and so I was reluctant to try to take them out. I felt I could do it, but not quietly, and the last thing I wanted to do was alert their compatriots that someone in the building was putting up resistance.
I went back upstairs to where I had left the others, and told them what I'd seen.
“Okay, we've got at least two bad guys on the second floor with numerous hostages. Not sure if that's all of them, or if there are more, but I'm going to go with the assumption that these two did not pull this off alone. At the moment, we don't know what they want or how strong they are, so we don't want to make a move that might jeopardize ourselves, or any of those hostages.” I looked around my little group. I had Jim, Albert, Grayson Mitchell, Charles Davidson, the lady lawyer—Janice, I think her name was—and Judge Leadham, and only I had a weapon.
Jim had gone to a window and looked out again, and motioned for me to come and look at what he was seeing. I stayed low, just as he'd done, and peeked over the ledge.
The street was full of police cars, and there were numerous other vehicles, including SWAT vans and armored assault machines. I could see news vans further back, and knew that Katelynn and all of our family back home would be watching any live feed they could find.
I turned to the judge. “Ma'am, let me use your phone again.” She slapped it into my hand almost instantly, and I tried 911, but the circuits were still flooded. I was reluctant to call Katelynn, because she'd only be more upset by that time, so I dialed the number to our offices back in California, then punched the extension for Mike Davenport's security department. When his receptionist answered, I told her who I was and she put me through to his phone.
It was only eleven AM in California, so he was in his office. “Davenport,” he answered.
“Mike, it's Nate,” I said, and that was as far as I got.
“Nate!” he bellowed into my ear. “Your dad called and said you and Albert are trapped in the courthouse in New York? Tell me this is a joke, man!”
“It's no joke. We're on the fourth floor, and there are armed men holding hostages on the second. I've seen two men, but I'm assuming there are more. I've got six people with me, including Albert Weiss and Jim Burke. The judge has loaned me her pistol, so I've got one weapon and about fifteen rounds. I need to know as much as you can get me on what’s going on down below, as fast as possible.”
He didn't argue or hesitate. “I'll call you back in ten,” he said, and was gone.
I checked out the area around us, and found a break room that must have been for the clerks and Marshals that worked out of the building, and had my group hunker down inside it. There, they'd have water and some snack foods, if it turned out were stuck there for a day or two. The judge, who was about five feet tall and skinny as a rail, found herself a spot on the floor, and Janice what's her name sat down beside her. The two were whispering, and I suspect the judge was keeping the other woman from going into panic.
The men, all but Jim, positioned themselves around the women, sort of like a barrier. Each of them had looked around the room and found something to use as a weapon; Albert had a wooden leg he'd taken off of a chair, and it had snapped off with a sharp point. I thought that if any vampires came in, he'd definitely be prepared, but a stake will kill a man, too.
Jim was holding a broomstick that he'd taken off of one of those wide brooms. I knew from personal experience what one of those could do in the hands of a man who knew how to use it, so I just grinned at him. We were as prepared to defend ourselves as we could be, given the time and materials we'd had to work with.
The phone i
n my hand vibrated, and I answered. It was Mike.
“Okay, here's what I got. NYPD says the courthouse and five other federal buildings in the city have been taken over by a domestic group who's trying to discredit the Justice Department. They've got hostages in every building, and there have, I say again, there have been fatalities. A small explosion marked the beginning of the siege in each building, but in at least two of the buildings, people were killed when they went off, and there have been hostages killed for resistance. They're saying you need to go to ground and hide, let them deal with this and just stay out of the way.”
I nodded. “We've found a place to lay low, so I'm putting everyone here. I'm gonna try to get some intel from inside, and get it to you so you can pass it on to whoever needs it out here. I'll call you back when I have something, so stay close to your phone.”
“Yes, Sir,” he said. “I'll be here.”
I ended the call and went to Jim, handed him the Beretta. “I'm going to see what I can find out about what's going on downstairs,” I said. “Keep everyone here, and quiet. If I'm caught, I want them to think I was a lone holdout.” I could see he didn't like the idea of me gong out to recon, but he didn't say a word. Marines know their duty, and they do it.
He tapped my arm and tried to offer me the gun back, but I shook my head. If I were armed, I'd be more likely to take risks; this way, I would be doing all I could to avoid detection, so that I could bring information back to those who needed it.
I slipped back into the stairwell and started down, being as quiet as I possibly could. It was time to go back into action.
Katelynn
Chapter Eight
Come Back To Me
* * * * *
I wanted to scream, I wanted to throw things, I wanted to just get into a car and start driving and never, ever come home! How could this happen? How on earth can one couple have so much of the worst luck in the whole wide world?
Nate was trapped in a building that had been invaded and taken over by terrorists, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. He was thousands of miles away from me, in New York City. What could I do?
He had called me to see if I could find out from TV news exactly what was happening. All he and my dad knew was that something had exploded down in the lower floors of the building they were in, and they needed to know what kind of situation they were facing. I checked CNN and found out that the building had apparently been invaded by a domestic terrorist group.
Of course, I knew what that meant Nate would be doing everything he could do to try to save everyone else. It was just naturally the way he was, and it's not that I wasn't proud of him for being that way; it's just that I wanted him with me! We were supposed to be married in just a few weeks , and he was out gallivanting around the country, taking on one disaster after another.
Okay, so he's not gallivanting, and he's not out there hunting for trouble. I do understand that. That doesn't make it any easier, though, when I know that he's in danger! After all we've been through, wouldn't it seem we'd already had enough? I mean, after a kidnapping, a plane crash and now this—doesn't it seem we'd been through enough already?
Mr Simmons—I mean Norman, Nate's father—had called the office and told them what was going on. The security man there, Mike Davenport, called back a little while later to tell us that Nate had called him to try to find out more. Mike said Nate was going to try to get more information to pass on to the police, who were standing outside the building, because there were hostages inside. Nate wasn't the kind to let hostages sit there without any chance of rescue, and he'd do anything he could think of to help. I know, because I'd seen how hard he worked to save me.
At the moment, though, all I wanted to do was scream and pull my hair. This just wasn't fair! I wanted him with me, I wanted him right here beside me! That's where he belonged, and nothing else would feel right.
Unfortunately, there really wasn't much I could do. No one was going to listen to me, no one was going to take my feelings into consideration on this matter, and that included Nate. What I had to do was simply wait and be patient, and of course, be praying that God would watch over my man.
Nate's parents, mom and I were all sitting together, glued to the TV and waiting for more information. We were hoping that he would call Mr Davenport back, and he would let us know what was going on, but at the moment the TV was all we had. It seemed that there were several buildings that had been attacked all at the same time, almost like a miniature repeat of that day back in 2001. Several buildings, several attacks.
So far, no one was saying exactly who had attacked, other than the fact that they were Americans . This was not some Muslim hate group, not a bunch of Russian soldiers, it was Americans attacking Americans. How stupid could we get?
I didn't know what to do. I know that Nate can handle an awful lot, I mean, I've seen him do the impossible how many times now? But that doesn't change the fact that I love him, and I'm worried about him. I'm terrified that he may not make it home to me. Nothing could be more frightening , especially this close to the day when we would officially be married.
Damn it, I wanted my husband back home with me! Not somewhere else, not somewhere trying to save the day, not somewhere where he might get hurt or killed.
I looked at Nate's father, Norman.
“Norman, what do we do? He's out there, he and dad are in this situation, and we have no way to help. What can we do?”
Norman look back, his eyes dark and worried. “Honey, I'm not sure. At this point, the best thing we can do is leave it up to the police. They're doing all they can, and I'm sure they're going to bring everyone out safely before it's over.”
“Maybe so,” I said, “but right now all I know is I want him home with me! He shouldn't even be there, you should have just let the lawyers handle it.”
“I wish it was that simple, Katelynn,” he said. “Sometimes, the top guy has to appear at these hearings. It may only be for appearances sake, but it's important to our stockholders, and to our company's reputation.”
I nodded. “But how in the world did we manage to send him out there just as terrorists were trying to attack and take over the very building he was going to? How on earth can this happen? I keep asking the same question, how can one couple have so much bad luck?”
It was my mom who spoke up then, and what she said made me stop and think. “Katelynn, has it occurred to you that maybe it isn't your bad luck that puts Nate in situations like this, but someone else's good luck?”
I turned to stare at her. “Mother, what on earth are you saying?”
“Honey, what if there's someone in that building who needs a hero to save his or her life, right now? What it this isn't about something bad happening to you, or to Nate, but about something good happening to someone else that God wants to take care of? What if Nate is there to save a life? Would you really want him to fail to do so, just to keep you happy?”
I looked down at the floor. “Of course not,” I said. “And believe me, if there's someone there who needs saving, Nate will be the guy who will do everything he can to accomplish it. That's just in his nature. And I guess I'd better get used to it, because he's not going to change, and if he did, he wouldn't be the man I fell in love with.”
The telephone rang, and we all jumped. Norman answered, and turned to look at all of us.
“Yes Mike?” He said into the phone. “Yes, I understand. Thank you, just keep us informed please.”
Norman said, “Well, Nate is doing his thing. Since the police aren't sure what's going on inside the building, he's acting as their eyes and ears. He has a cell phone that he got from a judge there, and he's going through the building trying to gather intelligence and information to send out to the police. The trouble is that the phone systems in New York City are all jammed, so until the cops can clear a line and call him directly, he's having to call Mike back here in San Francisco, and let Mike relay the information back to New York City.”
> I started to cry. “That's my hero,” I said, but I really didn't want him to be a hero, I wanted him to be with me. I didn't want him out here trying to save other people.
It doesn't matter how frustrating it gets, when you've got to let go of someone and let them be who they are, it tears you up. As much as I loved Nathanael, and knew that he also loved me, there was a part of him that could never be entirely mine. That's just how it goes, when you're in love with someone who is capable of doing and being the things that he was capable of.
I had to get out of there for a bit, so I grabbed my purse and phone, stormed out the door and went to Nate's garage. He had a number of cars in there that had automatic transmissions, so I knew I'd find something I could drive.
There was a cute little car there called a Chevy Nova, something I'd never seen before as far as I could remember. Nate had shown me where he kept the keys to all of the cars, so I went to the box and found the keys to that one, got in and started it up, then drove it out of the garage. I just had to get away, I just had to drive for a while.
I've been gone about ten minutes when my phone rang, and I snatched it up. It was mom, calling to tell me that Mr Davenport had called again and said that Nate had managed to count the armed men in his building. He managed somehow to get through the first and second floors without being detected, and was able to report to Mike, who passed it on to the New York police, just how many armed men there were in the building and exactly where they were standing. With any luck, Mike said, that information should bring the whole thing to an end fairly quickly.
I thanked mom for telling me, and started to turn the car around to head back, but suddenly changed my mind.
I grabbed my phone again, and dialed the number for the main office of the company. When the switchboard receptionist answered, I asked her for Mr Davenport's office and she put me through. Another receptionist answered there, and I asked to speak to Mr Davenport, but she told me he was busy and could not be disturbed.
