by Anthology
She shifted closer to him and leaned in. “I still have my smartwatch. We could use that to send a message.”
“How did you manage to hide that?” He couldn’t contain his surprise. Baby still circled the lobby and didn’t react to his outburst. He turned his attention back to Sophia, lowering his voice. “That was a terrible risk.”
She shrugged. She wasn’t rocking anymore. For the first time, he wondered if the self-soothing was a reaction to their inactivity rather than fear. She had obviously been willing to take a chance and hide the device, but what if they’d caught her?
There was no point in thinking like that. She had the watch. He could contact the department. It would be helpful for law enforcement to know the number of hostages, the weaponry, and how many bad guys they were up against.
“Scoot around so I can see it.” Accessing the watch while bound would be a challenge.
They wiggled on the ground until she sat with her back to him and he could reach her wrist with his hands. It was slow going. He wasn’t familiar with the settings. He had to stop and twist around so he could see what he was doing. He had almost finished entering Captain Tate’s cell number when the banging stopped.
The silence was ominous. A warning. The next phase of their captor’s plan was about to be enacted.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mateo grabbed Sophia’s sleeve and tugged it down her arm. They worked to right themselves, sliding on their butts so they sat with their backs to the wall.
Old Woman marched into the lobby. He pointed his AR-15 semi-automatic rifle at the ceiling and shot off a few rounds.
Mateo threw his body over Sophia, who pushed against him, shoving him to the side.
The hostages in the middle of the room seemed to jerk in unison. Elena screamed and wailed.
“Everyone stand,” Old Woman shouted.
Those who could struggled to their knees. From that position, they were able to stand. Baby grabbed an elderly gentleman by the arm and jerked him up. The man had white hair, a bent frame, and the sagging skin of an eighty-year old. He winced in pain.
The octogenarian had to be in agony after being bound for so long, but Mateo was pleased to see defiance in his eyes.
Old Man pulled a combat knife from a scabbard attached to his belt and sliced through the hostage’s ties one by one. The pieces of plastic fell to the ground. All of the captives rubbed their wrists and shoulders, an action Mateo knew was not only a reflex, but helped ease the pain endured by the restraints.
Mateo along with Sophia rose to their feet. Their movements were clumsy and awkward.
Together they stepped toward the people in the middle of the lobby, waiting their turn for their bonds to be cut.
“You two stay where you are,” Old Woman said as he swung the rifle toward them. “I have other plans for you.”
Old Man stood behind Sophia and efficiently cut through her bindings. Then he marched to the front of the lobby and grabbed his tote bag.
“What about Mateo?” Sophia protested. “Aren’t you going to untie him?”
Old Woman struck her across the face with the back of his hand. She fell against Mateo. He used his body to prevent her from crashing into the wall.
“Leave her alone!” Without thinking, he bent at the waist and charged Old Woman like a ram in rutting season. He didn’t need his hands to beat a coward. He could do the job with his head and his feet.
A blow came from behind, throwing him off balance. The second strike knocked him to the ground. He thought he heard screaming but couldn’t be sure because his ears were ringing. The third hit to his head made him see stars. Then Old Woman kicked him in the ribs, forcing air from his lungs. He gasped for breath.
Sophia threw herself over him, shielding him with her body. “Don’t you dare touch him!” She cradled him in her arms.
He tried to speak. He wanted her to leave and save herself, but his words were slurred and incoherent.
Old Woman grabbed Sophia, wrenching her away.
Mateo could see her struggling in his peripheral vision. He pushed himself up on his elbow. The action made his stomach heave and his vision blur.
Old Woman bent over. He was so close Mateo could smell his rancid breath. “Don’t worry, Ramirez. You’re getting what you want. The hostages are going free, and the price for their freedom is your girlfriend. I’m taking her with me.”
“No.” Mateo tried to shout, but his voice was no more than a croak.
Sophia fought as Old Woman dragged her away. “Mateo,” she screamed. “It would never have worked between us. Aunt Valerie will always be number one!”
Mateo groaned. He needed to stop them. Sooner or later, their masks would come off, and if she was present when that happened, they would have to kill her. There was also the possibility the one with the old man mask would rape her. His stomach rolled again at the idea. He needed her to be safe and happy, even if they weren’t together. He staggered to his knees.
“Some people don’t know when to give up. This is for your own good.” Old Man kicked him in the kidneys.
Pain ricocheted through Mateo’s body as he was thrown forward and landed face down on the hard wooden floor. He gave an involuntary grunt and then froze, using all his willpower to stay still. He closed his eyes, pretending to be unconscious. If he gave them a reason, they would beat him again, and he would be no good to anyone if he was dead. He had to conserve his energy to save Sophia.
He held his position, listening for his captor’s footsteps. When he estimated they were on the other side of the lobby, he opened his eyes a fraction. Even the small sliver of light hurt. The world spun, and he was thankful he was lying down. He probably had a concussion. He tried to remember the symptoms—nausea, headache, fatigue… What else? He needed to know. He had to prepare himself mentally so he could work through it and find Sophia.
He tried opening his eyes again, steeling himself against the pain.
Baby crossed the lobby and set a duct-taped bundle of spray-paint cans at the cashier’s window. He tied a long cloth to the package, pulled some matches from his pocket, and lit the rag.
Mateo pretended to be comatose as Baby grabbed him by both arms and dragged him across the floor so he lay under the burning device.
Damn. He would bet good money they were planning to create a fireball. Mateo had seen videos on social media. The blogger had shot a spray paint canister, which exploded into a burning corkscrew. The people who’d posted the footage had been outside in a location where there was enough area for the spiraling inferno to bounce around without causing serious injury. To set off something like that in the enclosed space of the bank was beyond dangerous.
If they were planning to burn him alive, he would need to move. Once the bullet struck the cylinders, the reaction would be almost instantaneous. Mateo sat up. Pretending to be unconscious was no longer in his best interests. The movement made everything blur. He blinked and was thankful when the world came into focus.
Baby pulled out a handgun and stepped back ten feet, aiming his weapon. He was either going to shoot Mateo or the spray paint. It didn’t matter which target Baby hit. There was a good chance Mateo would be injured either way.
He rolled, trying to put as much distance between him and the shooter as possible. A clunk sounded as Baby’s shot hit the cans, and then there was a loud hiss as a ball of flame curled into the air. Burning paint jettisoned through the bullet hole, hurling the inferno upward. It crashed into the ceiling with a boom and landed behind and to the left of the teller’s workspace.
Old Man reached into his tote and grabbed three short green tubes with the words Smoke Grenade printed on them in large letters. He pulled the rings and threw the grenades at the screaming captives, who were now running to the front of the bank. Then he and Baby retreated down the hallway to the right, heading to the vault area.
Mateo could hear yelling as the hostages hammered on the door. His eyes itched and stung as a gray haze enveloped him.
He staggered to his feet, stumbled, and then fell to his knees. He coughed as smoke burned his throat.
Old Woman had taken Sophia. That thought sliced through him. He stilled, trying to come up with a plan. He had to find her. Even though she’d made it clear they could never be together, he needed to know she was safe. He couldn’t comprehend a world without her.
He coughed again when the thick fumes clogged his airways. Shouts and banging echoed through the bank as the hostages tried desperately to escape. He headed away from the noise. He aimed for the hallway that led to the vault, but was blocked by a wall of flame. A flash of fire threw him back as the blaze spread to the ceiling, burning everything in its path.
Heat singed his face. There was no way he could get to Sophia. He needed a better strategy. He shuffled low to the ground toward the front door with his hands still tied behind his back. He stumbled, but managed to balance on his knees, and followed the sound of screams, praying he was headed in the right direction. He had to make it out. He had to live so he could save Sophia.
CHAPTER NINE
Finn Callaghan clung to the sliver of hope that the hostage takers would negotiate, but that hope was fading. Captain Tate had been calling them for hours, but they hadn’t picked up the phone, and there was only an hour left until midnight.
Tate clutched a large bag that contained three million dollars. The mayor had arranged for the money to be delivered to the police. Finn didn’t know how the mayor came by the money, and this wasn’t the time to ask.
“How the hell am I supposed to exchange the people for cash if they won’t answer the phone?” Tate chewed heavily on his last piece of gum.
“Are your men ready?” Finn asked. It was a stupid question. He could see that the SWAT team had been ready since the standoff began, but he believed in crossing his Ts.
Tate chewed some more as he threw the bag of money into the front seat of his cruiser. “This will end badly. We’ll be going in blind, and that’s never good. Have you heard anything from Salt Lake City?”
“Only that the Hostage Rescue Team is on the way.” The Hostage Rescue Team, or HRT as it was known, was an elite unit within the FBI who conducted rescues worldwide. They had the equipment, training, and tactical helicopter needed to handle this situation.
Finn breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the whirl of helicopter blades overhead.
“This is HRT1 to Granite City Police.” The disembodied voice crackled over the radio in Tate’s vehicle.
Tate dived into the car. “This is Captain Tate. Go ahead.”
“We’re over the target.”
Finn watched as the powerful helicopter searchlights flashed on.
“Sir, the bank is hot.”
Tate clicked the mic. “What do you mean ‘hot’?”
“I mean it’s on fire. There’s a massive heat signature at the rear of the structure.”
“What about the hostages?” Tate spat out his gum.
“They’re trapped near the front door.”
“Any sign of dirt bags with weapons?”
“Negative.”
Tate dropped the radio and ran to the roadblock. “Let the fire truck through.”
Officer’s scrambled to their cruisers, rushing to obey Tate’s command. The fire truck, siren’s blaring, raced through the barricade.
A loud whoosh sounded, followed by the crack of shattering glass as a skylight exploded. The screams of the trapped hostages rang out.
“Get them out,” Tate shouted at the firemen who were running for the building, axes in hand.
Finn grabbed Tate’s arm. “We need to contain them in case the kidnappers try to use the confusion to escape.”
Tate shouted orders to his men, setting up a perimeter.
The HRT team still hovered above. They had infrared and night vision technology. There was no way the bad guys could get away.
CHAPTER TEN
“Please let me go and help them,” Sophia pleaded as Old Woman shoved her ahead of him into the vault that housed the safety deposit boxes. It was wrecked. All the little doors were open. Some of them were bent; others were hanging by a hinge. Trays had been emptied and scattered about the floor.
The sound of people crying for help became louder, more intense, as wafts of smoke drifted into the room.
“Don’t worry,” Old Woman said. “If the firemen can chop through the door in time, they’ll all be saved.”
He hadn’t removed his disguise. Sophia wasn’t sure if that was significant. She coughed as the smoke burned her throat. How was Mateo coping? He was injured. She’d heard the sickening sounds of Baby and Old Man beating him as Old Woman dragged her away. He could be lying unconscious with no way to save himself.
She eyed the door. Shadows moved and flickered as the flames grew and danced just out of sight. If she made a run for it, she might be able to get to him.
“Don’t even think about bolting. I will shoot you.” Old Woman nudged her toward the back of the room.
The screams grew louder, followed by the sound of splintering wood. She needed the element of surprise if she was going to escape, but that was gone because she’d been too stupid to use her poker face. Her breathing hitched. “Please, let me go. He’ll die.” She didn’t care that she was begging, didn’t care about anything except Mateo.
Old Woman didn’t answer. Instead, he placed a hand between her shoulders and propelled her toward a man-sized hole that was located in the ground at the rear of the room. It was deep with layers revealing flooring, concrete, and dirt.
She backed up, resisting, knowing if she went into that pit, she might never come back. Surprisingly, Old Woman didn’t strike her or yell at her. He simply stepped around and tossed a large tote over the edge. Maybe they would leave her here. Then she could go back for Mateo.
She glanced around, searching for any specialized equipment they might have used, and saw a large drill in the corner. “You cut through this in a couple of hours?”
“We did most of it before. We only had the last little bit to do today,” Old woman said as he pitched another bag over the edge.
She had been wondering aloud and hadn’t expected an answer. It was alarming how reasonable, methodical, and calm Old Woman sounded, especially when measured against the yelling of the captives and the chaos caused by the fire.
She coughed as ash particles drifted through the air, propelled by the increasing heat. Did the authorities even know about the tunnels? Someone might, but they weren’t common knowledge. It could take days before they sorted out the mess. By that time, Old Woman and the others would be long gone.
Baby and Old Man climbed down a rope ladder into the void below.
Old Woman heaved the last two tote bags into the tunnel. Then he pointed to the ladder. “Your turn.”
She glanced back toward the bank. Flames licked the door and inched along the ceiling. Mateo might even be unconscious. She needed him and hoped one day he would need her. Even if there was never anything more than sex between them, she wanted him to be alive, not dead at the hands of these criminals. She shook her head. “I’m not leaving without Mateo.”
Old Woman grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip. “You can climb down the ladder or I will throw you down. You choose.”
Mateo’s life mattered more than whatever torture this animal could inflict on her.
She kicked Old Woman in the shins. He yelped and released her. She ran for the door. She only managed to make it a few feet when Old Woman caught up with her. He grabbed her by her jacket and threw her down the hole.
A wall of flames and smoke prevented Mateo from running back into the building to find Sophia. Two firefighters had dragged him away and forced him into the ambulance. He wanted to help fight the fire, find her and hold her close. The thought that she might burn to death hollowed out his insides, leaving him desolate.
Emergency personnel covered the area like ants at a picnic. Firemen had broken open the door, freeing the hostages from the
ravaged building. The police were searching and interviewing them, checking identities and taking witness statements.
The dirt bags had known what they were doing when they gave the wrong headcount. Law enforcement had no idea if one of the victims was really one of the bad guys.
He was surprised they hadn’t questioned him first. He was trained to be observant and had spent time with his attackers. He had information they needed, but for some unknown reason, he’d been dismissed, sidelined in an ambulance with a blanket wrapped around him, breathing into an oxygen mask. He would talk to the captain and make him listen. The police needed to know about the tunnels. He stood. His vision blurred, and his legs threatened to give out. He sat back down, gasping for breath, and blinked back tears, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. The smoke must be making them water. Damn. Now he was lying to himself.
There was no way anyone could survive the heat and smoke. He hoped they had escaped underground and Old Woman and his crew weren’t trying to last out the blaze in the vault. If that were the case, then Sophia was dead. His chest tightened. The inferno was so severe there were three fire trucks on the scene now.
It didn’t matter that she might be right about the tunnels because they couldn’t access them. It would take hours if not days before they could extinguish the fire. By that time, the bastards would be long gone. And what would happen to Sophia? What did they plan to do with her?
Her last words echoed through his mind. It would never have worked between us. Aunt Valerie will always be number one. He understood her Aunt Valerie must be important to her. She was, after all, the woman who had taken them in when her father was wrongfully imprisoned. But why would she sacrifice her future happiness for her aunt? Why had she rejected him? He liked to think he could’ve changed her mind and persuaded her to give him another chance.
He imagined running his hands through her fine pale brown hair. He loved the way it hung about her face. She was a woman of contradictions. In the courtroom, she was all business. As a lawyer she was powerful and formidable and somewhat reserved. Prosecutors groaned when they learned she was working for the defense. Some of them had even named her the Pitbull. Once she got her teeth into a case, she didn’t let go. But when they were alone she was sexy, exciting, and sweet.
