by Kylie Brant
She heaved it at Mitch’s gun hand, shouting “No, Mitch, don’t!” just as the deafening sound of a shot split the air.
Chapter 4
Tactical Liaison Kurt Welter’s voice sounded on Jack’s radio. “From situation intel we know we’ve likely got one gunman. The owner is also verified inside. Running down the owners of the vehicles in the lot gives us at least thirty hostages. No identity of the gunman yet, although people are referring to him as Mitch. Doesn’t appear to be a robbery gone wrong. Likely a customer or maybe a worker. The crisis negotiation team has been unable to establish contact. They’re trying a throw phone.”
Jack slanted a glance at Basuk, who stood silently next to him. “What about that last shot?” he muttered to the man. If they had reason to believe the HT was killing people inside, an assault would be unavoidable.
As if in answer to the question, Welter’s voice went on. “From the reaction of those inside, however, it sounds like there’s been no further injury. Exact position of the HT has not been determined. Precision marksmen have been unable to find a vantage point for gathering intel. Right now we’re relying on the listening device.”
Which, depending on the location of the gunman, could result in spotty accuracy. Jack turned to scan the area behind him. The outer perimeter was containing the usual crowd of rubberneckers and media. A couple news vans, cameras mounted on the roofs, were pressing as close as allowed. Any police action would be broadcast live to residents over their dinners this evening, increasing the pressure for a peaceful resolution.
He and Basuk stood ready with the majority of the entry team members at side one, the front of the restaurant. He thought of the restaurant blueprints they’d studied. A secondary entrance through the bank of windows could easily result in injuries to hostages, as booths lined the space beneath. At this point they had no way to know where the hostages were being kept. Their best chance would be to go in through side three opening one—the alley entrance—or side four.
The radio fell silent. Jack felt the cell phone in his gear bag vibrate. Surreptitiously, he unzipped the bag to withdraw the phone, intent on turning it off. He couldn’t afford distractions, even though it looked like they’d be hunkered down for hours waiting for CNT to try and bring about a peaceful resolution.
He flipped open the phone, his thumb moving to the Off key when he glanced down and frowned. The LED screen announced that he had one text message from a number that was only vaguely familiar. Who the hell would be sending him a text message? Another press of a button elicited the answer—and had his blood turning to ice.
Insde Mitch Engels 2gun 1 ded advse
Abruptly, he reversed direction and raced back to the command center, ignoring the twinge in his thigh. His heart was jackhammering in his chest, and not just from the confirmation that they already had a fatality.
Lindsay was inside. She was one of the hostages.
“I’m not talking to them. Why should I?”
Mitch stood amidst the jumble of purses, cell phones and other personal belongings he’d had Song collect from the customers. After all, he’d explained to Lindsay earlier with a sort of eerie calmness, he couldn’t chance one of them calling for help. She’d managed a sound of agreement through a throat that had gone abruptly dry.
What would Mitch do to her if he realized she’d done just that?
“You have to think about yourself. Getting out of here unhurt.” Keep him calm. Keep him focused on his own well-being. That just might be their ticket out. Her earlier attempts to contact Jack had been useless, at any rate. He’d said last night that he’d be on the next incident call, but if by some chance there had been more than once incident response today, their friends’ squad might not even be the one outside the restaurant.
Mitch looked unconvinced. “I’ve seen the movies. These guys on the phone…they’re professionals. They just want to mess with my head.”
“I think you can count on them to keep their word.” She knew a little about the process from listening to Dace and Jolie, although she certainly wasn’t going to share that with Mitch. “I’ll bet there’s media outside. There always is in a situation like this. The police can’t afford to have something go wrong when the news will be broadcast all over. You hold the upper hand here, Mitch. But you can’t use it if you don’t talk to them.”
“Oh, I can still use it,” he said meaningfully, bringing the pistol up to aim at Alex again. Blood had soaked through the dish towel the boy had wrapped around his arm. Lindsay had managed to disrupt Mitch’s aim, but her actions hadn’t spared Alex completely.
“Try to focus.” Because her voice was sharp, she made an effort to soften it. “Stop worrying about Alex and start thinking about getting yourself out safely.”
“I’m gonna get screwed either way so it doesn’t much matter what else goes on in here,” Mitch said bitterly, his aim never wavering. “You know they’ll pin Neldstrom’s death on me.”
Since he’d shot the man in cold blood, his logic was difficult to argue, but Lindsay gave it a try. “Not when they find out how he treated you, Mitch. There are laws against bullying. You can make them see that Bill’s treatment of you drove you over the edge.”
Finally his gaze left Alex and fixed on her, his myopic eyes widening behind the glasses. “They’ll see it was his fault? That he had it coming?”
Lindsay could feel the condemnation shimmering off others within earshot, but she couldn’t focus on what they thought. Only on what might get them all out of here alive. “But you have to make them see that. You have to pick up that throw phone they told you about, and—”
“No!” Abruptly his voice went fanatical again. “We aren’t opening any doors.”
“Answer the restaurant phone the next time they call, then,” she went on seamlessly. “It’s your only chance to tell your side.”
“Tell my side,” he muttered, but she could tell he was thinking about it. “I have to think.”
Her phone vibrated inside the apron pocket and her knees suddenly threatened to give out. “Take your time,” she suggested weakly. He wouldn’t be able to see the slight movement of the phone, would he? “Why don’t I get you something to drink?”
“Yeah, get me a root beer.” Mitch kicked aside the jumble of belongings at his feet and dragged a chair from behind the hostess station to sink into.
Lindsay turned to go to the soda dispenser, reached for a cup to set in place. Then she shot another look at Mitch to make sure his attention was elsewhere before she dropped one hand into her apron pocket, flipped up the phone and read Jack’s response.
“And this woman inside…you’re sure you’ve got no relationship other than as witness to last night’s assault?”
Jack answered the commander without a qualm. “Absolutely none.” It wasn’t a lie. Not quite. The kiss he and Lindsay had shared didn’t change the fact that he barely knew the woman. The fact that he wanted to change that, wanted to know her on the most basic of levels, wasn’t relevant here. Not when the admission would get him pulled from this duty.
“I gave her my number so she could contact me about that case.” He lifted a shoulder beneath the heavy vest. “She knows I’m SWAT. She’s a friend of some CNT members.”
He withstood Mendel’s steely gaze for a long moment. “All right.” With an abrupt jerk of his shaved head, the other man seemed to come to a decision. “I want every message brought promptly to command center. You send nothing that hasn’t been expressly okayed by me.”
“Understood.” He hadn’t expected the commander to decide differently. With the snipers unable to gather intel, they had only what they could pick up through the laser. It was hard to ignore the best way they had to gather information about what was going on inside.
“Find out the number of hostages, positions, overall mood of the gunman. This Engels. And tell her not to do anything stupid. I want to see every message before you send it.”
Jack nodded. He wasn’t about to te
ll Mendel that he knew Lindsay well enough not to use any such phrasing. He concentrated on texting in the message, cursing his slowness. His fingers were too thick to make him quick at the process, which was why he rarely used it. He finished and showed the shorthand message to Mendel, who nodded, then pressed Send.
He turned, but didn’t get back to position before he received a message in return.
37 hstg n wkrs mtch 6 ft insde fr dr tryn get hm answr phn. Call
Mendel grunted as he squinted at the text.
“Sounds like maybe she has him convinced to talk.”
“I’ll alert CNT. Ask her about the fatality. Anything the negotiators can learn before the call will help.”
The commander strode away before Jack could point out the obvious. Which was just as well, because doing so would blow his claim that there was nothing personal between him and the woman inside.
Jack looked down at the cell in his hand, not making a move to obey the commander. Because even if it hadn’t occurred to Mendel, it had occurred to him.
Every time Lindsay answered one of the texts, she was risking her life.
“He was the boss from hell. You nailed it. Bastard was so cheap, he even took a cut of all of our tips. And he picked on me from day one. Anyone will tell you that.”
Lindsay watched Mitch talk on the phone from the corner of her eye, misgivings circling in her stomach. She’d thought letting the man air his grievances to Dace and Jolie, the trained listeners outside, would be helpful. The long phone conversation offered her cover to send messages to Jack, but it seemed only to agitate Mitch further.
The baby in the back corner booth was screeching again. From his frequent glances in that direction, Lindsay could tell Mitch’s nerves were fraying. Swiftly she finished her next message and pressed Send. And then, because she couldn’t help herself, she took a moment to recheck Jack’s last message.
Keep mtch clm hng in thr wel gt u all out. Prmse
His assertion that he’d get them all out safely might be empty, but it still brought Lindsay a momentary glow. And there was no denying that every message she got from Jack made her a little steadier. They weren’t alone. That was something.
She scanned the people huddled at their booths and tables, voices muted. Her gaze lingered on the expressions of Song, Bobby and Alex. The inner glow faded. Because in here, they were alone.
She headed for Mitch. “These people will need to go to the bathroom soon. And the kids probably need to go now,” she said in a low undertone. Maybe she’d wasted her time texting while he was otherwise occupied. She could have slipped into the kitchen, searched for a weapon. She didn’t like her chances with a knife against a gun, but she resolved to grab one if the opportunity presented itself. She’d feel better if she were armed.
“I’ll have to think about it.” Mitch’s voice was distracted, and at first Lindsay couldn’t tell whom the words were meant for. A few minutes later when he hung up, it became clear. His tone was icy when he told Lindsay. “No one moves. Those are my orders.”
“You’re making the decisions.” Her words were as deferential as she could manage. “It’s not going to smell too good in here after a while, though. I’m not sure how much longer these kids can hold it, are you?”
He sent the squalling kid in the corner a jaundiced glance. His voice dropped to an undertone, meant for her ears alone. “There are other ways to shut them up.”
Fear pierced her. “No need to make hasty decisions, Mitch. You told them on the phone you had things to think over. That was the right thing to do.”
“I told them what they wanted to hear. Bought time, that’s all.” He reached up with one camouflaged sleeve to wipe his glistening forehead beneath the orange cap, which was growing slightly wilted. His broad face was flushed. “As long as they think I might go out, they won’t send cops rushing in here.”
As long as they think I might go out…
She tried a smile but wasn’t sure she pulled it off. “It will all be on your terms, Mitch. Take the time you need. You’ll make the right decision. The safest one for you.”
“I’m not stupid, Lindsay.” His voice was so low she had to strain to make out the whispered words. She heard the resignation in his voice. Saw the acceptance in his expression. “Even if I get out of here, then what? I can’t go to prison. You saw the way Bill treated me. Think I’m not going to be a victim inside? I couldn’t take that life. You’re right about one thing, though. It will be on my terms. After today, I’ll be remembered, all right. I’ll make sure of that.”
There was a roaring in her ears. Her heart sped up to triple time, until she was certain everyone around her could hear its mad beating. “There’s always more than one solution. Talk to them again when they call. You’ll see.”
The child’s crying intensified and in the next moment Mitch whirled around and screamed, “Shut that brat up!”
“You don’t need this agitation,” she said, inwardly quaking at what she was about to do. What she had to do. The negotiators had every reason to think that Mitch was going to come around. That with the next contact, or the one after that, they’d be able to convince him to surrender peacefully.
But the man wasn’t as easily manipulated as they thought. And Lindsay knew their time inside was running out.
Dnt b foold mtch nt cmg out hell kil evry1
CNT liaison Herb Simpson, Kurt Welter and Commander Mendel took turns squinting at the text on the cell-phone screen. “Where are your negotiators with this guy?”
Simpson shook his head. “Still in the rapport-building stage. The HT hasn’t escalated, but neither has he taken any positive steps like releasing a hostage.”
“According to this text, he isn’t going to,” Welter put in. “He’s stalling.”
“Have you gotten anything from the laser system that would indicate the HT’s mood?” Jack asked. There was a knot of sick fear lodged deep in his belly, formed by Lindsay’s last message.
“Enough to know he’s volatile,” Mendel said flatly. “And we probably aren’t picking up everything with the background noise inside.”
Seeming to reach a decision, the commander looked at Simpson. “We need time to get into position. Have CNT make contact again. Keep him on the line as long as possible. We’ll want the diversion.”
Jack’s palms had gone curiously damp. When he took the cell phone Mendel handed him, it nearly slipped from his hands. Once the liaisons left, Mendel told him, “Text her back and tell her to sit tight. That we’ve got it covered out here.”
Relief battled trepidation inside him. Because a breach on the restaurant didn’t lessen the danger Lindsay was in. Just the opposite.
He keyed in a text message and held the phone up for the commander to read.
Gve it tme we hve thngs cvrd sit tite
Mendel gestured his okay and strode toward the RV. But Jack didn’t send the message until he added a few more words.
Im gng to get u out of thre
“They’ll stay calmer if they’re comfortable. Calm means easier to manage,” Lindsay argued. The muscles in her neck and shoulders were tense from fatigue and stress. “I can take them to the restroom in small groups. You trust me, Mitch. I’ve always been your friend. Let me help you.”
The other man looked uncertain. “It’s better to keep them in one spot. Where I can see all of them.”
“I’ll be watching them. And you have to answer that next phone call.” He’d already let one go by unanswered. “You want to stay one step ahead of the cops outside, don’t you? You have to make sure they think you’re playing their game.”
As if on cue, the phone on the wall jangled again. Mitch looked indecisively from it to her.
“Go ahead,” Lindsay encouraged him. “I’ll handle this for you.”
“Just a few at a time. But don’t try anything, Lindsay.” She felt a chill skitter down her spine at the threat on Mitch’s face, so incongruous settling on that normally placid expression. “We
’re both going to die, I’m not going to lie to you. But I could make it very painful if you screw me over.”
“You can count on me, Mitch.”
As she skirted Song, who was huddled on the floor, the woman whispered, “Why are you helping him?”
Lindsay looked over her shoulder to find Mitch still looking at her as he reached for the phone. Facing forward again, she murmured, “Be ready. And stay down.”
“Lindsay, what are you—”
The rest of the woman’s words were lost as Lindsay clapped her hands sharply and raised her voice over the murmur of the customers. “We’re going to use the restroom. I’ll call up booths one at a time. Those of you with children will be called first.”
She kept her back to Mitch as she directed the customers, some of them openly sobbing, into an orderly line down the narrow hallway leading to the restrooms. Her shoulder blades itched, as if waiting for the bullet Mitch had promised. Luckily, he couldn’t read her mind.
If he could, she’d already be dead.
The front and rear exits were out of the question. Mitch had a clear line of vision to both. But in that long, narrow hallway enclosing the restrooms was also a full swinging door on the opposite wall marked EMPLOYEES ONLY.
That door led to the kitchen.
Nerves tangled in her stomach. Her fingers were clumsy as she texted while the first two used the restroom.
Sndg kids out thru ktchn dr
The minutes stretched interminably without a response. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe they should wait. Would Mitch really have the nerve to shoot himself rather than surrendering to certain prison? Maybe not, she decided grimly, as the first mother and child came out of the restroom. Maybe he was planning on suicide by cop if a breach occurred. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to take out as many of them as he could first.
