by Lynn Ames
“Have Breathwaite and Redfield relieved of duty and detained in this office until this situation is all over. After that we can determine what the charges will be and some of your troopers can take the two of them into custody.”
“Leaving the agency without a leader right now could be a strategic nightmare. What would happen if I brought Brian back to run the show?”
“Your rank and file would be fine; the problem is the media would have a field day and want to know why.” Not to mention the fact that the ex-commissioner still has his own issues, Peter added to himself silently.
“What are the chances that we can keep the situation with Redfield and Breathwaite quiet?”
“I think the media can be distracted.”
The governor thought for a moment. “It’s time for me to make an appearance, I think; that ought to distract them.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
“What are you going to do, Peter?”
“Go get Kate.”
“Max.” Peter greeted the head of the Albany CERT team warmly.
“It’s good to see you, sir.”
“Thanks for taking care of that little matter for me.”
“Of course, sir. I don’t know what that was all about, but I know you wouldn’t have asked me to do that unless you had a good reason.”
“I’ve always appreciated your ability to follow orders.”
Max shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. “Most of the time that isn’t a problem.”
“Let me guess,” Peter said, “you didn’t enjoy being told to leave the hostages where they were.”
“With all due respect to Commissioner Redfield, sir, I thought we could have gotten them out without having to make any concessions.”
“Now we don’t know if the target is in the same location. So we have to start from scratch.”
“That’s correct, sir,” Max said miserably.
“Well, we’d best get going, then.”
“Sir?”
“Hearing problem, Max?”
“No, sir. It’s just that we were given a direct order—”
“And now you’re being given another. The governor has put me in charge of the rescue operation. If you’d like to confirm that, I’m sure he’d be happy to tell you that himself.”
The Cost of Commitment
“There’s no need, sir.”
“In that case, I want Tech Services back at it, pronto. I want to know the target’s exact location and anything else we can find out about the layout and conditions.”
“I’m on it, sir.”
“Good.” Peter looked at his watch, trying to hide his smile at Max’s suddenly buoyant attitude. “I want a full briefing in thirty minutes.”
“Yes, sir.” The CERT team leader hurried from the room.
“Put her back in my cell,” Kumar told Antoine and Zack when they arrived back on the tier.
The two inmates virtually picked Kate up and tossed her like excess garbage into cell number eleven.
With her hands still handcuffed in front of her, Kate was unable to regain her balance; she slammed heavily into the metal bed frame before falling to the floor. Behind her she heard the cell door slide closed with a snick. She straightened herself into a sitting position against the bed frame and waited for the pain in her wrist and shoulder to subside.
When her mind had cleared sufficiently, she replayed the events of the preceding half hour. She pondered, not for the first time, why none of the CERT teams had attempted a rescue, or perhaps even the correction officer who had accompanied Wendy. She was sure Randy Garston would have ordered them in. She was afraid she knew the answer: Redfield must have ordered the CERT teams to stand down, which meant she was on her own.
She closed her eyes and tried to envision Jay’s reaction when Wendy gave her the ring and the notes. Kate knew she had taken a chance in dropping the notes on the floor but was confident that the sharp reporter would notice them. She tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that Jay would know how she felt in case she died in this godforsaken place; at least Jay wouldn’t be saddled with the burden of thinking that Kate had still been angry or disappointed with her.
Kate wondered if her lover was nearby or if she was still on the Navajo reservation somewhere in the middle of New Mexico. She couldn’t imagine that Jay hadn’t been told by this time what had happened. Who had been the one to tell her? Had it been Trish, who might have seen a report on the wire or on television? Or might it have been Peter or Barbara, contacted by Jay when she’d been unable to reach Kate? How would they have broken the news to her? Peter or Barbara, she knew, would have been gentle but honest; she had no idea how Trish would have broken the news.
Lynn Ames
She tried to put herself in Jay’s place. How would she have handled finding out that her lover had been taken hostage? She smiled grimly.
She would have torn the place to pieces until she had located her. Jay, she knew, although equally determined, would have gone about it a different way. She would have mobilized a team with the expertise and experience to get the job done rather than charging in headlong, without backup.
Kate’s musings were interrupted by the sound of a baton reverberating against steel nearby.
“You’s crazy, man. What you wanna do dat for?”
“Just ’cuz I can, and ’cuz I have a thing for folks taking what’s mine.”
“I won that stuff from you fair an’ square an’ you know it.”
“Bullshit.”
This time Kate could hear the baton connect with flesh, and the sound made her sick to her stomach. Several pairs of running feet approached from either direction, converging on the spot where the two inmates tussled. There were more shouts, and Kate could see the shadows of struggling inmates. The scene was pure chaos. While it was frightening to witness, Kate understood that the distraction meant the inmates were not focusing on her, a reprieve for which she was grateful.
Above the din a voice shouted, “No! This does not serve our purpose.”
“You and your goddamned purpose. I don’t see how we’re gonna get out of this mess with anything other than more time to serve, in even worse conditions.”
There was a chorus of yeahs.
Kumar held up his hands for quiet. “You are all being shortsighted. If we can just stay with the plan we will be rewarded.”
“If that’s true, I say we off the bitch now and get it over with.”
“No way. I say we turn her over to the authorities and take our chances with them. I don’t see how killing her gets us anything but more trouble than we’re already in.”
Kumar said practically, “So far, the man has delivered on everything he’s promised. We have no reason to doubt that he will do so again and keep his word. Enough talk. Let us make the preparations. Ready the TV
room. That will serve as the execution chamber.”
In her cell scant feet away, Kate gathered her remaining strength and struggled to her feet. If she were going to die, it would not be without a fight. She looked around for anything she might use as a weapon.
The Cost of Commitment
William Redfield strode hurriedly into the prison superintendent’s office. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Governor Hyland. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I bet not.”
“Sir?”
“You know, when I hired you as commissioner it was because Brian Sampson thought highly of you. He said you had the experience and know-how to get the job done.”
“I appreciated your confidence in me, sir.”
“What I’m trying to tell you is that it wasn’t my confidence in you at all—it was Brian’s. I’m sure after today he’s reevaluating his opinion.”
Redfield’s face turned red with embarrassment. “Sir, I assure you I am doing everything I can to bring about a peaceful resolution to this awful situation.”
“Redfield, save it for someone who believes you. I’m not buying your load of BS.�
�
At that moment David Breathwaite entered the room, followed by a state trooper. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Actually, I didn’t, but I did want you here. You are both hereby relieved of duty and placed in detention until further notice.”
Redfield looked miserable.
“What?” Breathwaite asked indignantly. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”
“Thank you for asking, Mr. Breathwaite. Yes, I do. You will be confined to this office until this situation has been resolved.”
“On what grounds?”
The governor’s temper flared. “On the grounds that you serve at my pleasure, and this is my pleasure.”
“Last I checked, serving at the pleasure didn’t include detention. You have no right—”
“On the contrary, Mr. Breathwaite, I have every right. And if I were you, I’d shut my mouth before I incriminated myself any further.”
“Incrimina—”
“If you’ll excuse me, I have a date with the media. Don’t worry, though, I’ve asked these fine officers to keep you company.” Two state troopers stepped inside the room and took up positions on either side of the door.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the governor addressed the members of the press. He looked cool, calm and in complete control. “First, I want to assure you that the three hostages that have been released are in excellent shape, both physically and emotionally. They are being treated for Lynn Ames
concussions and some minor abrasions and are at this moment being reunited with their families.”
“Will we get to talk to them?”
“First things first. There is still a hostage in there. Her safety and well-being is paramount. We are doing everything possible to ensure a positive outcome.”
“Will there be a rescue mission?”
“We do not comment on strategy during ongoing situations. All I will say is that this administration and the good people of the state of New York will not be bullied or coerced by unscrupulous felons. In the end, justice will prevail and if need be, I will personally wield the hammer.”
“It will be a much cleaner extrication if we can accomplish it before they move her. Once she’s out of the cell, anything can happen.”
“I agree, Max.” Peter stared at the images in the middle of the table and tried to be objective. He couldn’t think about the fact that it was his best friend’s life on the line—if he allowed emotion to interfere, he might make the wrong decision. The plan was to get in, neutralize the perpetrators, extract the target, and secure the area—all without getting anybody hurt.
“We’re ready when you are, sir,” Max and the other four CERT team leaders stood up as one, determination etched on their faces.
“Ready your gear. I’ll be giving the order shortly.”
Peter exited the briefing room and walked the short distance to the superintendent’s office, passing the trooper stationed outside the door.
After knocking once, he entered. William Redfield and David Breathwaite were standing at opposite ends of the room, one with his head bowed, the other staring straight ahead defiantly. Two troopers stood just inside the door; the governor was behind the superintendent’s desk on the phone.
“Sir, I hate to interrupt your conversation, but I need to talk to you for a moment.”
“Oh, thank God.” Redfield looked to Peter beseechingly. “Enright, tell the governor he’s made a terrible mistake.”
“Sir, I’m sorry, there’s no time to waste.” Peter ignored his former colleague completely.
“Of course.” The governor rose quickly, hanging up the receiver as he did so. He accompanied Peter outside and into an empty office across the hall.
“Is your helicopter still on the grounds, sir?”
“As far as I know it is.”
“With your permission, I’d like to use it in the rescue operation.”
The Cost of Commitment
“Of course. Anything you need. I’ll tell the pilot to report to you. Are you ready, then?”
“Yes, sir. If we don’t move right now, our chances of success are greatly diminished.”
“Then by all means, give the order.”
“Yes, sir. I will let you know as soon as it’s done so that you can give the media the good news.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“By the way, sir...”
“Yes?”
“For what it’s worth, I think Randy Garston, the current deputy commissioner for operations, would be an excellent choice as the next leader of DOCS.”
“That’s good to know. Where is he, anyway?”
“At the moment he’s overseeing the peaceful resolution of the uprising. Last time I saw him he was in B yard with the members of the Inmate Liaison Committee, supervising the return of the remaining inmates to their cells.”
“I’ll have a talk with him. Thank you, Peter, and good luck.”
When Peter returned to the briefing room, the five CERT team leaders and their top lieutenants were poring over last-minute details.
“Okay, is everybody ready?”
There was a chorus of “yes, sirs.”
“Here’s the last piece of the plan.” Peter pointed to the D block roof on the schematic. “When you bring her up through the roof, the governor’s helicopter will be waiting. Max, take the safety harness with you and put it on her. I’ll be waiting for you up there to attach a line and lift her into the chopper.” He made eye contact with each man in the room. “I’m assuming you’ve all checked your gear and made sure everything is working. This has to go like clockwork; there’s no margin for error.” He looked around at the serious faces that looked intently back at him. “You all are the best—that’s why you’re here. I have every confidence in you. Let’s go bring her out safely.”
The CERT team members filed out of the room, peeling off in various directions. All were dressed in battle suits, bulletproof Kevlar vests, and helmets, with gas masks and gas canisters attached to their belts. Each man also carried a silenced MP-5 submachine gun, and several carried shotguns. Max and his group headed for the outside fire stairs leading to the D block tiers. When they reached the bottom entrance to the stairs, Max turned to his men. “Okay, this is it. You all know what to do. I have Ms. Kyle’s mask and I’ll head directly for her. Collins is in charge of Lynn Ames
breaking down the door. Elmira will take care of the lock box. Auburn will drop the gas and Oneida will secure the tier. We’re in charge of the package. She is our only concern.” Heads nodded all around him.
Max surveyed the area, looking for the other CERT team leaders, making sure that they were in position and at the ready. At their affirmative signal he tapped his lieutenant on the shoulder, whispering urgently, “Go.”
Within seconds they had climbed to the second of D block’s three floors. As they waited for the Collins team to overcome the barricade, they donned their gas masks. With a loud crash the door gave way, the Collins team stepping aside to allow the Auburn team to drop the gas.
When that had been accomplished, Max and his Albany group entered the tier through the go-round.
“Now!” Max yelled the muffled command through his mask as he started down the tier. Each of his eleven team members followed suit, racing through a fog so thick it was difficult to see. All around them they could hear the sounds of people choking and sobbing. As they made their way quickly down the gallery, the cacophony of cries from startled inmates assaulted their ears.
Max tried to count the cells that streaked past him as he ran full tilt down the gallery, one objective in mind. When he reached what he thought should be cell number eleven he stopped, trying to clear the smoke and gas from in front of him enough to see inside. He waited impatiently for the door to slide open. Glancing down the rest of the tier, he tried in vain to spy his counterparts from Elmira who were in charge of the lock box that controlled access to the cells.
Several seconds later, as the cell door began
to slide open, he felt a tug from behind. He turned to see a massive inmate reaching for his gas mask. Before Max could make a move to ready his weapon, a second inmate flanked his other side. Max kicked out, landing a blow to the first inmate’s solar plexus, causing him to double over. As Max prepared to strike out at the second inmate, his lieutenant came up alongside, hitting the inmate in the head with the butt of his rifle and knocking him unconscious.
Max nodded his gratitude as he slipped into the cell, where Kate lay slumped against the metal sink. He bent down quickly to her and slid the mask over her head, adjusting it until it fit her snugly. It was not immediately clear whether she was breathing, so as soon as he had her mask in place he felt for her pulse and respiration. Her breathing was shallow and her pulse was weak, but it was steady. She appeared to be unconscious.
He whistled twice, loudly, and two of his men appeared in the cell doorway. He motioned to them to watch his back as he lifted Kate over The Cost of Commitment
his shoulder and made his way out of the cell. The scene was pure bedlam; inmates and CERT team members were running in all directions.
Max pointed to the go-round, indicating his intended path of escape. One of his men moved into the lead, his weapon at the ready; the other officer remained behind him, ensuring a safe retreat. Together, they moved at a jog toward the far end of the tier, back the way they had come.
As they were about to exit through the steel door, Max heard the thwack of a baton cutting through the air, then a single gunshot. He could not see around Kate’s slack body, but the man on his flank pushed him forward and off the tier before he could get a sense of what had happened. When they were safely on the landing to the fire stairs, Max laid Kate gently on the ground and turned around. He pulled his mask off. The officer who had been behind him was breathing heavily.
“Are you all right, Gary? What happened back there?”
“I got hit. Just give me a second, it hit me in the vest.” He leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath.
“Jason, check him out,” Max ordered as he bent over Kate. Carefully he removed her gas mask. Her eyes were closed, her breathing still shallow but steady. He unclipped the spare safety harness from his belt and slid it over her legs, securing it around her hips. Without turning his head he said, “Gary, Jason? Everybody okay?”
