This time, I refused to speak up until somebody else did.
After a long, awkward pause, in which the mayor gnawed on her lower lip, she said, “Third option, we let Viceroy get away on the airplane that guy from Boulder flew here.”
After another long silence, the town councilwoman said, “Fourth option. We wait till everybody seems asleep, we open the door a crack, and we spray a gas inside that knocks everyone out but doesn’t hurt them. Then we go in wearing gas masks and grab the son of a bitch.”
I waited for more suggestions. Nothing. “Still brainstorming. Any other ideas, no matter how wacky?”
Nada.
“Then it’s time to pick apart the plans and make them better.”
For better or worse, bureaucrats decided things by thinking out loud—usually for hours. Now, people were happy to speak, push their favorite plan, and trash the ones they didn’t like.
I stayed silent. These folks would have to live with the consequences, and I thought they should decide on the solution.
Chapter 11
After an hour of arguing, the sleeping gas option was the most popular. But according to my instructor at CMC, the Russians had tried that once—with disastrous consequences.
The mayor was about to contact the emergency room at the local hospital to see what kind of anesthetic we could use. I spoke up. “Hold on a sec. You should know that antiterrorist forces in Moscow tried this back in 2002. Fifty Chechen rebels had taken over a theater with eight hundred people inside. The authorities filled the theater with some unknown sedative gas. It killed two hundred of the hostages. I’m not telling you what to do, but I thought you should know about the Russians’ experience.”
That riled everybody up, but the councilwoman still pushed the idea. She called the local hospital’s ER. Because of the hostage crisis, they’d brought in every doctor in town. She got a hold of the chief anesthesiologist and put the phone on speaker so we could all hear him as she told him about the plan.
The guy had a high-pitched, raspy voice. “Yeah, the Russians tried that—”
The councilwoman cut him off. “Hey, we know. According to Wikipedia, they never disclosed the sedative they used. And, come on, the Russians are nuts. I’m sure one of America’s fine physicians would know something that would work properly without hurting anyone.”
He must’ve realized he was dealing with a bunch of idiots because he spoke more slowly, as though explaining something to young children. “For anesthesia to be administered safely, you need tightly controlled conditions. In the hospital, we administer gaseous anesthesia with a mask, so we can precisely control how much of the chemical a patient receives and how much air is mixed in. You can’t just squirt enough gas into a mostly empty building to sedate someone without running a high risk of mortality.”
“Are you sure?” the councilwoman asked.
I clenched my teeth to keep from screaming.
“Yeah, actually, I am,” the doc said. “Let me put this in the clearest possible language. Really. Bad. Idea. Plus, in order to dose a building as big as that barbecue joint, you’d need five times the amount of gaseous anesthesia we have on hand. And there’s no way in hell this hospital will give you any for the purpose you’ve suggested.”
The mayor thanked him for his help, and he hung up.
That left us with three options. The others began arguing again.
-o-o-o-
Eventually, they eliminated the possibility of letting the bastard fly away. Innocent blood had been shed in Craig, and they were going do their damnedest to obtain justice for Cameron’s family. I couldn’t agree more.
As the locals argued over the last two options, the district attorney asked, “How could a cop sneak in and find Viceroy in a totally dark restaurant?”
I knew the answer to that question. “I have a pair of night vision goggles in my SUV. They work well in most low-light situations.”
“Plus,” Drew said, “there’s only one adult male in there. Four of the hostages are teenagers, all short. The manager, Muriel Clayton, is a slim, average-height woman. My understanding is that Viceroy is tall and heavyset. Our officer shouldn’t have too much trouble picking him out.”
My answer led to more blah, blah, blah.
Finally, they decided we should sneak in, rather than storm the building. That option made more sense to me, too. Unfortunately, we now faced a major disadvantage for both approaches. We had no idea where the various individuals were located inside the building.
Once they settled on option two, they began to discuss who should go in. Being from Aspen, I was definitely more familiar with assholes than these fine innocents. The worst of the worst did their dirty deeds in Pitkin County.
After they talked about various individuals, I threw my hat in the ring. “Given that Viceroy is from my neck of the woods, and given that I was chasing him before any of you had heard his name, I’m willing to take on this mission if you want. Plus, I know how to use the goggles. They can be a little tricky.”
This being a governmental meeting, nobody was going to immediately say, Sure Hank, makes perfect sense. We appreciate you getting rid of the bastard for us.
But eventually, they realized I was the right gal for the job.
The one upside to infiltrating the restaurant myself was I could make every effort to save Viceroy’s sorry ass. Not because he deserved to be saved—I wanted him to roast in Hell—but I hoped to squeeze information out of him. Mostly, I needed to know who else was involved in his murderous scheme. There had to be at least two of them, the person who’d shot at me on McClure Pass, and a spotter who’d driven behind me to warn the shooter as I approached. And there could be more than one co-conspirator.
-o-o-o-
Once the locals settled on their champion, the civilians left. The rest of our discussion would involve police tactics. Drew, his officers, the county sheriff, the deputy from Mesa County, and me remained in the room.
It was already ten-thirty p.m. Since my ass was on the line, I spoke first. “I think we want to wait a while. Our best chance, my best chance, will be to sneak in when he’s dozing. The bastard has had a busy day, a stressful one, too. He must be bushed. I know I am from chasing his sorry ass.”
Drew poured me a cup of hot coffee from a pot on the table. “It’s pretty good here and strong. That’ll perk you up.”
I nodded and sipped. “I think we should hit him around one-thirty, but I’m picking a number out of thin air. What do you guys think?”
We kicked around a dozen different considerations, including the fact that Viceroy was a bar owner. He had to be used to late nights.
Eventually, we settled on two-thirty. I stopped drinking coffee, hoping I could get a nap in before the main event. Better to sleep than to worry.
Drew arranged for a room at a nearby motel. Before nodding off, I called Willow. “Not to be melodramatic, but I’m going to try to sneak up on the shooter in a few hours.”
She seemed to be getting used to those kinds of stupid comments coming out of the blue. I thought that because she didn’t try to talk me out of it. Instead, she said, “Anything I can do to help?”
“Actually, there is. The locals pulled a laptop out of Viceroy’s SUV, but they can’t get into it. There’s a small chance something inside the computer might help us. Could you talk to the police chief and see if you can make any progress?”
“Happy to do that.”
This was where I was supposed to make some sappy, heartfelt comment. But nothing great came to mind. I went with the old standard, “I love you and hope to see you tomorrow.”
“Moi aussi. Take care of my favorite cop. Je t'aime à la folie. I love you madly.”
-o-o-o-
At two a.m., the alarm on my phone woke me. I washed my face and put on the same clothes I’d worn earlier, including my body armor. Drove a couple of blocks back to the barbecue restaurant and parked behind it again. Most of t
he media crowd had vanished, and the streets were deserted. A few lonely streetlights fought the darkness. My breath fogged in the cold, clear air.
I worried about what would happen next but not for myself. I’d be the only person in that building wearing protection from flying chunks of lead. The hostages would be close to Viceroy, unlike me. They’d be his most obvious and vulnerable targets.
Drew approached as I was putting on my helmet and night goggles. He waved. The other cops around us held back.
“I was halfway hoping you’d oversleep,” the chief said. “Feeling guilty about letting you do my job. I’m sure I could figure out how to use the goggles.”
I shook my head. “I’m in a good frame of mind now, and I don’t like last-minute switcheroos. You and Willow make any progress on the laptop?”
“Yeah. She got us in, but the perp has been using some kind of super-secure encrypted messaging app. She’s still trying to hack into that, but no luck so far. She did tell me that Viceroy’s sent hundreds of messages since early in the summer.”
That was intriguing, but for later. “Then, let’s get this rodeo started. First, we need to connect the radio in my helmet to your walkie-talkie.”
He did that. I checked my service pistol to make sure it was loaded with a round in the chamber and the safety off. Put a flashlight in one of the pockets of my armored over-pants.
It was still a few minutes short of two-thirty, but I didn’t see any reason to wait. We crawled on our hands and knees below the building’s windows to the main entrance on the south side. We would’ve looked ridiculous to any passersby, but there weren’t any. Drew had blocked the main drag going each way.
He reached up for the door handle and eased it open for me. I crawled into the vestibule and waited as the door silently closed behind me. Then I took a moment to listen for any sign that I’d been discovered already.
Total silence. It was darker inside than out. I lowered the goggles to my eyes, and things brightened up. Everything took on a different shade of green.
The chaos from earlier in the day was obvious. Trays and food and coats had been strewn across the floor. The odor of something burnt filled the air. Food might’ve been abandoned on a grill or in a deep fat fryer. Whatever it was, it’d left a thick haze in the air. But I could still see well enough to search for Viceroy and his hostages.
The restaurant was eerily quiet inside. I wondered whether the son of a bitch had killed everyone and himself already, but the cops outside had been listening all evening. No gunshots, and I couldn’t imagine how else he could’ve wiped everyone out that wouldn’t have been noticed.
My thoughts were interrupted when the door behind me opened quietly. Our plan was that two cops would sneak into the vestibule and stay there until I asked for help.
The dining area was too open for anyone to avoid being seen. The two most likely hiding places were the restroom area and the kitchen.
The hallway nearby led to both, so I crawled that way. Double-checked to make sure my pistol was still in the holster on my hip. That was reassuring.
There were no windows near the hallway, so it was particularly dark back there. Couldn’t see a thing.
I eased across the dining area floor toward the hall.
Every few feet, I stopped to listen. I was halfway across the dining room when I thought I heard a soft, deep rumbling. Snoring. That made me smile. The only person large enough to snore that deeply was Viceroy.
I moved faster, still crawling.
Thunk! Someone grunted.
Viceroy roared. Sounds of a scuffle. A woman screamed. Had to be Muriel.
I jumped to my feet, grabbed my Glock in one hand and my flashlight in the other. Pushed the googles off my helmet as I ran toward the noise. Turned on the light.
“No!” Viceroy yelled from the back of the hallway.
Muriel screamed again. Spotted two people standing close together wrestling. I dashed toward them.
A pistol shot rang out. A bright red muzzle flash. The boom was deafening in the hallway.
I lit up Viceroy with my flashlight beam. He stood alone. “POLICE! FREEZE!”
Two girls screamed.
Viceroy swept his right arm toward me. Gun in hand.
We both fired at the same time.
His bullet caught the edge of my ribs on the right side, spinning me and knocking me against a wall.
He fell. Lots more yelling and shrieking.
“Stay down!” I yelled over the din. “Everybody, stay down!”
I ran to Viceroy and scanned him with the beam of my light. He was motionless on the floor. My bullet had hit the center of his chest. Blood gushed, soaking everything near him. He’d be no threat anymore.
The back of the hall was filled with cowering kids packed together. They put their hands up to block the bright light.
Muriel laid on the floor in front of them, crumpled against the bottom of one wall. Using the radio in my helmet, I said, “Shooter down. Manager badly wounded. Need medical.”
I hurried over to her. Blood soaked her uniform top. Viceroy’s bullet had torn the side of her neck open. She was out cold. Blood soaked her clothing but wasn’t flowing.
I holstered my pistol and used my hand to apply pressure to the wound. No pulse or breath. She was already gone.
A wave of fatigue and emptiness filled me. For the first time, I noticed a sharp pain in my ribs on the right side. Each breath made my chest ache.
Cops yelled behind me, “Police. Everybody, stay down.”
Flashlight beams zoomed around. Someone patted my back. “EMT. I’ll take it from here.”
He checked the gaping wound and grimaced.
Our plan had gone to shit.
I stood and glanced around. The hallway was filled with police, including Drew. Another EMT was working on Viceroy, but I doubted he’d make it either.
Several were helping the kids out. They all looked physically okay, except one teenage boy. He had a nasty bruise on his left temple, but he walked out under his own power. His grace under pressure brought tears to my eyes.
I moved out of the way, returned to the dining area. Slumped into one of the booths near the windows. Tried to make sense of what’d gone wrong. Had I accidentally woken up Muriel or Viceroy? Was that why they were scuffling?
My throat tightened so much I could hardly breathe. How could I have fucked this up so badly?
Drew and the thin, white-haired sheriff approached me and sat.
“Hank, what happened?” the chief asked. His voice sounded concerned, not accusatory.
I took a deep breath to gather my thoughts. Winced.
Before I could speak, the sheriff asked, “You get hit?”
I rubbed my right side. The armor was torn but mostly intact. “It’s nothing. His second shot caught me here. The Kevlar deflected it. Here’s what I—”
“Tell us later,” Drew said. “Let me get help.”
My mind wasn’t as sharp as usual. He took off before I could stop him. I said to the sheriff, “Waste of time, but I just remembered something. We’ve got to get the bastard’s phone.”
The sheriff held up his hand. He held a plastic evidence bag that contained a phone.
“I got shot once,” he said, “almost thirty years ago. A through-and-through into my bicep. It felt like someone had whacked me with a hammer. Turned out, the bullet had nicked an artery. I keeled over before I realized I was bleeding to death. Thank God, I wasn’t alone at the time.”
I moved my arm so he could see the tear in the armor. “See, no blood. Bullet didn’t get through.”
He nodded. “But let’s get you checked out anyway. The recap of this disaster can wait.”
Drew returned with a female EMT about my age. A redhead with lots of freckles. “Snuck past me, didn’t you? Let’s see.”
With experienced fingers, she unzipped the top half of my armored suit and removed it. Pulled up my shirt
on that side. “Ooh, nasty.”
Of course, she had to poke at it.
I gasped.
“At least one broken rib. My limo’s parked outside, ready for your unexpected vacation. Let’s go.”
I tried to explain that it wasn’t that serious, but the three of them ganged up on me. Practically dragged me out. Wouldn’t listen.
Before I knew it, I’d been shanghaied into the back of an ambulance. The EMT tried to strap me down to a gurney, but I said, “No. I’ll lie down, but no restraints. And I need to text my mom, my boss, and my girlfriend to let them know I’m fine. God only knows what the reporters here are saying.”
She grinned. “Nobody riding in the back of a screaming ambulance is fine, but text your little heart out.”
Typing while lying on my back was awkward at best. My thumbs wouldn’t seem to work right for some reason.
Craig was a small town, and I barely got my messages sent before the ambulance screeched to a halt.
They quickly moved me to a treatment room. Because there were only two wounded people, me and the kid with the bruised temple, I was surrounded by a dozen docs and nurses. Couldn’t help but wonder how much that was going to cost and who was going to pay for it.
Chapter 12
After lots more poking and prodding over my entire body, most of the doctors found better things to do. I was left in the hands of the hospital’s chief surgeon and a radiologist. An x-ray confirmed I had two broken ribs, and I was already well aware of the nasty bruise. They wrapped my chest with a fancy Ace bandage and told me not to breathe deeply. Couldn’t. Even moderate breaths hurt too much. I panted like a dog.
The surgeon wanted to keep me overnight for observation, but to hell with that. The town had already paid for a motel room, and I wanted to be sure they got their money’s worth. Plus, I felt better whimpering in private.
The head ER nurse wouldn’t let me leave until I signed a bunch of waivers and promises not to sue. After I did, I tried to sneak out of the ER and grab a cab to my hotel room. But Drew and the Moffat County Sheriff were waiting.
Sacrifice Page 10
