by Geonn Cannon
"I have a hot shower waiting at home when this is all over."
"I have a whirlpool," Roland said.
Camden smiled. "Do you."
"Yeah. Nice and warm. Big enough for three, four people."
Camden opened the door to the MCU and turned to Roland. "Only need room for two."
#
Tania and the last five hostages were brought out of the office and told to get their cell phones from the pile on the counter. Hatcher stood to one side and said, "I'd like to apologize for the inconvenience this has caused you. It was never my intention to turn this into a hostage situation. I want to thank you for your patience. Some of you more than others."
James Callaway glared at Hatcher during the last comment, shook his head and looked at his watch. "If you're lucky I'll make it to the restaurant in time for dinner."
"That's wonderful," Hatcher said. "I'm very pleased for you, Mr. Callaway."
Lindsay Le and Samantha Ross were at the back of the group to retrieve their phones. Sam knelt next to the shattered remains of her camera and picked up the largest piece. She examined it and dropped it back to the floor. "Wonderful."
Hatcher said, "Ms. Le, if you don't mind. I'd like you and you camerawoman to walk out with me." He held up the ledger and said, "This is the story of the year and I think you deserve to have an exclusive."
Lindsay's eyes widened and she smiled. "If you insist, Mr. Zeus."
"Hatcher," he said. "Simon Hatcher." He had taken his bloody jacket off the floor and wrapped the ledger so it wouldn't get destroyed in the rain. He looked at the door and saw the rest of the hostages were standing and staring at the fogged glass. "You can go. It's really okay."
"The cops..." Russell said. "What if they think we were robbing the bank?
"I sent Mr. Bryden out to make sure the cops knew what I was doing. They know who you are." He looked at Tania and said, "Send the security guard out first. They'll see the badge and they won't shoot."
James unlocked the door and said, "After you, Madame Guard."
Tania glanced over her shoulder at Hatcher before she walked out of the bank. Hatcher, Aphrodite, Nemesis and Morpheus gathered to watch the hostages leave. Lindsay and Samantha were the only ones left, standing near Hatcher. Aphrodite finally took off her mask, undid the knot in her hair, and let it fall to her shoulders. She put her arm around Nemesis and pulled her close. "Well, looks like this is the end, my only friends."
Nemesis smiled. "That's a song."
Aphrodite smiled back and pecked Nemesis' lips. "Yeah, it is."
"Okay, folks. Let's go."
They were almost to the door when something cracked against the office door. The robbers all dropped, thinking it was the police opening fire, but Lance stayed on her feet. She looked toward the office where Mallory was locked in time to see a crack appear in one of the glass windows flanking the door. Hatcher saw it, too, and turned to look at Lance. "Do you need a hand?"
"No," Lance said. "Get them out of here." She crouched down to pick up one of the discarded Glocks. Hatcher watched her cross the room and nodded for everyone to move toward the door. He went out first, followed by Lindsay and Sam. Aphrodite and Nemesis followed, leaving Morpheus to bring up the rear. He turned and saw the leg of a chair break through the glass, the agent's furious face visible in the darkness of the office beyond. Lance stood calmly, gun in hand, waiting for Mallory to get free.
Morpheus turned and left the bank, letting the doors swing shut behind him. He immediately raised his hands into the air, overwhelmed by all the bright lights shining on the front of the building. Swirling red and blue lights topped every police car, catching each icy raindrop and turning them into rubies and sapphires. Aphrodite and Nemesis were in front of him, hands on top of their heads as police officers cautiously moved forward with their guns raised.
Simon lifted his hands as well, and a drenched blond man in street clothes walked up to him. They met in front of the van Hatcher originally requested to take them to Canada. "Zeus? Detective Ryan Camden. It's my pleasure to inform you that you're under arrest."
"I'll go gladly," Hatcher said. "And my name is Simon Hatcher. You can read me my rights, book me, throw me in jail, but there's one thing I want to do first. I've promised Ms. Le an exclusive to make up for all the trouble I caused in the bank. If you'll allow me to speak to her on-camera..."
Camden considered it, then looked at the other suited robbers. "What about them?"
"Pawns," Hatcher said. "They were dragged along in my wake. Don't punish them because I was on a mission."
Camden didn't react, but he turned and scanned the reporters still braving the weather. He looked at Lindsay and said, "The Channel 10 truck is right over there. You have five minutes." He motioned for uniformed officers to escort the group over to the cameras.
"All I'll need," Lindsay said. "Right this way, Mr. Hatcher."
Camden stepped aside to let them pass, four uniformed officers moving in to surround Hatcher to make sure he didn't try to escape. Camden looked at the remaining robbers and said, "You'll all be taken into custody and questioned." He scanned their faces and frowned. Two people were missing; Artemis and Agent Mallory. He stepped forward and said, "Where is Claire Lance?"
At that moment, two gunshots sounded inside the bank.
#
Chapter Thirty
Mallory knocked out the rest of the glass with her shoe, turned to the side, and slipped out of the office. She scanned the room before she fixed her eyes on Lance, a wicked smile spreading across her face. They stood a few feet apart, Lance in her rumpled suit and Mallory in a tank top and jeans. Both of them looked and felt like they'd been ridden hard and put away wet, both of them were weary with the knowledge that their dance was finally nearing an end.
Mallory was the first to break the silence. "Finally it's just you and me. No one to sneak up and save you with a Taser this time." She looked at Lance's hand and said, "Put the gun down and kick it over to me."
"You're unarmed. You have no leverage."
"I have a hundred heavily armed SWAT team members surrounding this building as leverage."
Lance smiled. "Bank robbery. Federal offense."
"Yep."
"Bigger than murder."
"Damn...right." Mallory's triumphant expression faltered. She looked toward the door, realizing what Lance was implying.
Lance said, "Do you really think they're going to let you take me back to Chicago? I'm going to be part of this state's biggest trial of the year. After that, I'll probably go to a federal prison for, oh...twenty-five to life. As soon as I'm finished with that sentence, I'm sure they'll extradite me to Chicago for you."
Mallory's eye was twitching. She stepped forward and said, "You bitch."
"I'm sorry, Faye."
Mallory lunged at Lance. Lance tightened her grip on her gun, but refused to bring it up. She instead brought up her other arm and blocked her face, falling back as Mallory slammed into her. Mallory grabbed Lance's hand and tried to knock the gun free. Lance stomped on Mallory's foot, twisted out of her grip, and pushed away.
Before Lance could get out of her reach, Mallory grabbed the lapels of her jacket and pulled her forward. They spun around each other for a moment until Lance shifted her weight forward. Mallory was thrown off balance and fell backward, pulling Lance with her.
They hit the floor, Mallory on the bottom, and Lance scrambled to get to her feet. She ran for the front doors.
Mallory turned her head, saw the Beretta Nemesis had been holding and snatched it up. She rolled onto her stomach and fired twice without bothering to aim. Lance went down, and Mallory allowed her heart to soar. She got to her feet and ran to where Lance lay. She couldn't see any blood, and Lance was already getting back to her feet. Mallory planted one knee in the small of Lance's back and pushed her back to the ground.
She pinned Lance to the floor, pressed the gun against the back of her head, and bared her teeth. "I could end it. Right no
w. Justice for Elaine. Ease my conscience. Just pull the trigger and end this damn thing with one bullet." She pulled back the hammer, tears burning in her eyes, and released a sharp breath.
"Faye, don't."
Mallory tensed. She looked over her shoulder for the origin of the voice. "Who...?" But she knew who it was; she would recognize that voice anywhere. But that was impossible. "Elaine?" she said.
The bank doors opened and Detective Camden came in. His soaked shirt was covered by a bulletproof vest with POLICE written across the chest in tall, white letters. He aimed his gun at Mallory and said, "Don't do it, Agent. Put away the gun and let Lance stand up."
Mallory hesitated.
"I will shoot you, Agent Mallory."
She looked up at him and saw that he meant what he said. He would agonize over the decision after the fact, sure. But he would do it without hesitation. She relaxed her grip on the gun and lifted herself off Lance. Camden relaxed, but kept his gun ready. Mallory grabbed the collar of Lance's jacket and hauled her up. Lance's nose was bloody, from impacting the floor when Mallory knocked her back down. Mallory wrapped her arm around Lance's neck and pressed her gun to Lance's temple.
"Agent Mallory, what are you doing?" Camden asked. His voice was tired, exhausted by an already long day.
"I'm taking her to Chicago with me. Is the van they asked for gassed up, ready to go?"
"Yes."
"Back out of the bank, Detective," she said. "Now. Or she doesn't live to trial in either of our states."
Camden reluctantly lowered his gun and backed into the atrium. He pushed the front door open and Mallory walked Lance out into the rain. Mallory immediately began shivering, her bare arms breaking out in goosebumps. She walked Lance to the van and said, "Open the door. Slide across to the driver's side." Lance did as instructed and Mallory glanced across the street. Lieutenant Roland had a sniper rifle trained on her.
"I'm sorry to have to do this, Detective Camden. I really am. But I can't let her go."
"You're making a mistake, Agent Mallory."
"Start the engine, Claire."
The van's engine started with a low rumble, and Mallory climbed into the passenger seat. She slammed the door and said, "Drive."
"Where?" Lance asked. Her entire body was tense, one hand pinching the bridge of her nose and slightly hunched forward to stop her nosebleed.
"Lean back."
"You're supposed to lean forward," Lance said. "Something I learned in Montana."
"Whatever," Mallory muttered. "Just get out of the police barricade for now. We'll worry about directions when we're not surrounded by angry men with guns."
Lance pulled away from the curb. The police pulled the barricades out of the way and cleared the way. She drove between the parted barricades and onto the main road. Mallory reached down and turned the heat all the way on, trembling as the first gust of cold air blew out of the vents. The windshield wipers skittered across the glass, shrieking as it passed over patches of ice frozen in the shape of artistic snowflakes.
The road was barely visible through the icy webbing, and Lance leaned forward in a vain attempt to see better. "We're not going to get very far in this weather," she said.
"We just have to get far enough away that the police won't stop us."
Lance nodded. "And where will that be?" Mallory didn't answer. "You plan to drive all the way to Chicago in one shot? Sitting there holding a gun on me the entire time? We'll have to sleep sometime. Maybe you'll handcuff me to the radiator in your hotel room."
"Shut up and drive."
Lance drove through streets she had first driven with Jodie. The drive-in restaurants with girls from the fifties on roller skates. The turnoff to Jodie's apartment building. Everything was shut down due to the storm, people hunkered safely behind their windows to wait for someone to tell them it was safe to leave. It was as if the town had rolled up the carpet and went to bed so that Lance could have her funeral procession. This is where you could have found peace, it seemed to whisper.
Lance struggled to keep herself calm. It may not have happened the way she wanted, but this was no different than what she had suggested to Jodie. She would go to jail, serve her time, and then eventually she would be free. It might take years. It may take most of her life. But the time would come when she was a free woman. She pictured herself sitting on a back porch somewhere, sipping lemonade. In the fantasy, she was an old woman in a knit sweater, her feet bare as she looked out over the water.
A left hand with a gold ring alighted on her shoulder and she looked up. Jodie, an elderly Jodie, her wife, smiled down at her and shuffled to take her seat on the porch swing.
"What the hell are you smiling about?"
Lance let the smile fade. "Nothing."
Mallory leaned forward and adjusted the heater. "Figures. They gave you a piece of shit minivan. The thing is probably rigged to break down the second we get out of town."
The van suddenly lurched and Mallory braced herself against the dashboard.
"You should probably knock on wood," Lance said. "I'm having a hell of a time finding traction." Lights began to appear on the dashboard, and Lance wondered if Mallory was right about the van being rigged. They were out of town now, just about to cross a bridge that would take them out of Shepherd police jurisdiction.
The van slid suddenly to the right, and Mallory pressed the gun against Lance's side. "Stop that!"
"I'm not doing it," Lance said. "The road is too icy." She corrected the front wheels and slowed to a crawl, inching along the center of the bridge. She was about to suggest they stop when the back tires hit an icy patch. The van twisted and Lance slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. The van went sideways, skating along the bridge for a few feet before Lance was able to get them facing forward again. "Not good," she muttered. "Not good, not good."
Mallory moved the gun to Lance's neck. "Get this damn thing—"
"The gun is not helping matters any," Lance said through clenched teeth. She stood on the brakes, but the van seemed to have a mind of its own. The entire body shuddered as the van impacted the railing, and Mallory lowered the gun to look out the windshield. "Oh, shit," Lance whispered. "Move slowly to the back of the van, Faye."
Mallory looked at Lance and hesitated.
"I'm not trying to escape. This would be the worst fucking escape plan ever. Get to the back of the van to counterbalance. Move slowly."
Mallory reluctantly lifted herself from the seat. The van groaned and edged forward, and one of the railing's supports snapped. Lance pressed herself against the back of the seat. All she could see below were evergreens and the bank of a frothy white stream. Her heart pounded as Mallory eased into the middle seat. A sliding door was on the passenger side, and she moved toward it.
"No!" Lance shouted. Mallory froze. "Don't get out of the van. You're the only thing keeping me from falling into the river right now."
"She's going to kill you," Nemesis said in Lance's head.
Mallory pulled her hand back from the door. Lance unfastened her seat belt and pressed her shoulders against the seat. She thought she felt the weight of the van shift ever so slightly, but knew it was probably wishful thinking. She swallowed hard and twisted herself toward the backseat. She knew she couldn't push off the driver's seat, or pull herself forward from the middle seat without changing the weight balance. She would effectively be pulling the van over the edge single-handedly. As it was, she was trapped where she stood. She tried to tense the muscles in her legs, leaned forward, and reached for the seat.
Mallory dropped the Beretta, grabbed Lance's arm and held tight.
"Thank you," Lance said.
With Mallory's help, Lance managed to get into the middle seat. "Open the door. Slowly." It was a sliding door, and she hoped that moving the weight of the door to the back of the van would help steady the vehicle. Mallory pushed the door open and looked over her shoulder at Lance. "Go," Lance said.
Mallory stepped out onto the
icy bridge and turned to look back into the van. Lance's foot hit something and she looked down. Mallory's Beretta lay at her feet. She looked up and met Mallory's eyes. The tables were turned. She could be free. She could still get out of this mess.
"Don't do it," Mallory said. She sounded utterly distraught, shuddering in her tank top on the side of the bridge. She looked so forlorn, alone, desperate.
"I won't," Lance said. She slid across the seat toward the door.
"Give me the gun."
"I think it's best if we just leave the gun—"
Mallory lunged at the open door.
"Faye! No!" Lance screamed.
Mallory hit the door and scrambled for the gun. Lance heard the railing creak and the van began to slide forward. Her heart stopped. Mallory was half in, half out of the van. She was too focused on getting her hands around the gun, which had skittered away from her clutching fingers, that she didn't realize they were moving.
Time slowed. Through the windshield, Lance saw the stream below the van coming into clearer focus. She grabbed the back of Mallory's tank top and lifted her up. She planted her other hand in the center of Mallory's chest and shoved with all her might. Mallory fell through the open door of the van, sprawled on the ice and skidded away from the falling van.
#
Mallory couldn't get to her feet. She rolled onto her stomach, her hands and shoes skittering as she fought for purchase on the ice. The bridge was slick as glass. She looked up in time to see Lance, still in the back of the van, turn to face the windshield. And then the van was gone, the undercarriage visible for a moment before it plummeted over the side of the bridge.
Mallory couldn't move. Couldn't blink. Her skin felt like it was burning, the rain freezing her flesh. She jumped when she heard the van crash into the water below. It was a misleadingly quiet sound, like a soda can being crushed under a boot. She got to her feet and skidded toward the edge. She dropped to her knees, hugging the railing as she looked down. She could barely keep her eyes open, small icicles forming in the corners of her eyes as she squinted at the wreckage. "Lance!" she shouted. Her voice sounded muffled by the rain, weakened by how utterly cold she was.
