He headed down the back stairs to the kitchen and mud room. He found an industrial-sized machine and stuffed everything inside. A silky scrap of jade green fell onto the floor, and he quickly scooped up the panties and tossed them in the machine. He would not imagine what Charlotte Blood looked like wearing those, and he would not think about what she might be wearing right now.
He closed his eyes and banged his head on the top of the washer. He. Didn’t. Even. Like. Her.
Since when was like necessary?
He growled.
“Everything okay?” Charlotte asked from behind him.
He drew in a long, calming breath. “Dandy.” He found the powder, threw in a pod, and started the washing cycle. “Let’s flip a coin about who to brief first.”
“Actually,” she raised up her hand like a first-grade teacher. “I had an idea about that.”
He braced himself.
“Let’s grab the negotiators from where they’ve set up communications and bring them into the barn. We’ll do a full team briefing with HRT. That way we can all get up to speed faster.”
He looked at her in surprise. “That’s a good idea.”
“I have my moments,” she said dryly.
He grinned at her. This was going to be a cinch.
Chapter Six
“What do you think they’re doing, Dad? I mean we haven’t seen much activity. Have they left?” TJ knew it was wishful thinking, but the way Malcolm snorted made him feel like he was ten years old again.
His father sighed, keeping one eye on the television monitors and one eye on the surveillance cams. “No, son. They’re out there. Setting up. My guess is that guy who walked in here naked was probably either from a SWAT team or the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team. That means they’ll be weighing the pros and cons of our defenses. The fact they haven’t blacked out our cameras is telling. They want to give us a false sense of security. Probably try to talk us out of here first.”
TJ’s mood sank. He’d hoped the lack of movement on the cops’ side meant they were going to leave them alone, especially as the wildlife officer was alive, at least according to the news media. Relief had filled TJ at that announcement. Maybe there was still a way to fix this mess.
The news channels were playing endless loops of film showing environmental protesters and logging trucks and old aerial shots. Most of their home was underground, hidden beneath the garden where they grew vegetables.
There was a lot of speculation as to what they believed in and whether or not they were a cult, which was bullshit. The media used the word cult to scare people. Sometimes people here went to a church in town but, more often, his mother had led them in prayer. Malcolm had taken that over after her death. That didn’t make them a cult—it made them self-sufficient.
His father had bought and rebuilt this property to ease his mother’s fears and to escape the world, but then people had started arriving at the door and asking for refuge, and his mother had rarely turned anyone away. They were her family, whether she liked it or not.
The image of a black woman in a suit flashed up on all four television screens set into another wall. She was standing outside the hospital where they’d taken the wildlife officer. Bob Jones was his name.
TJ’s stomach clenched. Had he died?
“Turn that up,” Tom demanded, pointing at the news.
According to the label on the screen, the woman in the suit was from the FBI’s public relations office. She began the statement with news that the wildlife officer had survived surgery and was expected to make a full recovery although it was still early days.
“In a statement, FWO Jones said that, while fulfilling his official law enforcement duties, he came upon an attack on a young woman in progress and gave chase to the assailant. The suspect fled inside a fortified structure on Eagle Mountain. People inside the facility shot at FWO Jones as he tried to arrest the assailant.”
Shit. TJ felt eyes on him but didn’t look away from the screen.
The agent finished by saying that, when the sheriff had arrived to conduct his investigation, the people here had fired at them, injuring another deputy, which was when the FBI stepped in. The public relations woman looked into the camera. “We wish for a peaceful resolution to this situation, but we do want to question any individuals in the area who may have information regarding the young woman who was found dead on Eagle Mountain and the subsequent shooting of law enforcement personnel.”
The silence felt like lead pressing against TJ’s skull.
“You murdered someone?” exclaimed Malcolm.
TJ’s head shot up. “Of course not.”
But the FBI agent’s words damned him as a liar. TJ looked around at a room full of eyes regarding him with distaste and disgust. “I found a girl,” he admitted.
Tears flooded his eyes at referring to Kayla like she was some anonymous stranger. Nothing. Nobody. Unimportant. But he couldn’t admit he knew her.
“I went over to check her pulse, and then this guy turned up.” He pointed at the screen that was showing an official photograph of FWO Bob Jones grinning at the camera.
Anger burned. The world was calling the wildlife officer a hero and labeling TJ a cowardly murderer, and the only person who really mattered was the one who’d died.
“I ran before he could arrest me. He tried to shoot me in the back.” His voice was hoarse. “You’d have all done the same. I don’t know what happened to the girl. I didn’t know her.” He felt like Judas. His stomach cramped at the lie. But she was dead now, and he couldn’t do anything to bring her back. “I found her dead. Maybe he killed her and decided to blame me.” TJ pointed at the screen. His heart was pounding, and sweat broke out on his brow.
Even his father looked unconvinced.
Malcolm sneered. “That’s some story, TJ.”
TJ blinked. It did sound crazy.
“I guess,” he admitted slowly. “I probably wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t know for a fact it was true. But it is. I swear it.”
His father sat heavily on a chair in front of the monitors and held his head in his hands. TJ’s heart contracted at the sight of him suffering because of him.
“I say we give the cops what they want and send TJ out to face the consequences of his actions like a man should.” Malcolm raised his voice to the room in general, and there was a murmur of consent.
“That’s enough.” His father looked up. “This is my land, and TJ stays right here with me. Any of you have an issue with that, you are welcome to leave.” Tom stared at Malcolm until the other man looked away. “Anyone?”
No one moved.
“Dad.” TJ stepped forward. “Perhaps I should give myself up? Sort this thing out with the cops so no one else gets hurt.”
“You think they’re going to believe a boy like you over one of their own?”
TJ shook his head.
“Who do you think I built this place for, son?” His father’s voice turned anguished. “Who do you think your mom and I wanted to protect?” His dad’s brown eyes held an unfamiliar sheen that made TJ’s throat ache with suppressed emotion.
“I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.” TJ looked around at the other men in the room, the condemnation in their faces plain to see. “And I want the chance to prove I’m innocent.”
His dad shook his head. “This country is falling apart. I don’t trust the justice system as far as I can spit, and I am not giving up my son.” His dad pressed the general intercom. “Anyone wanting to leave needs to pack up their gear and be out of here in the next two hours. No one will try to stop you. Anyone who stays…I cannot guarantee your safety. Those who are staying, I want four-hour watches on the front and back exits. Two men on each entrance. Two more in the surveillance room. No one shoots at anything unless we are under attack. Everyone else get some sleep. We’re gonna need it.”
The phone attached to the wall started to ring.
The men in the room looked at one another in shock. TJ hadn�
�t even known it worked. No one ever called that number. It could only mean one thing. His father walked calmly over to the wall and unplugged the cord. The silence felt like a portent.
Chapter Seven
Charlotte shivered as she strode outside, intensely aware of SSA Novak on her heels. Eban had told her the negotiators had set up in a building a few steps from the back door of the main ranch house. Considering she’d envisaged them working out the back of a gas station somewhere, this place was palatial.
Inside it looked like a small canteen with a basic kitchen area and a large open space where the negotiators had arranged four tables pushed together in front of one wall that was now covered in a series of white board material. Max Hawthorne was writing headings on the sheets.
She caught Novak staring at their large “Things To Remember” board which went everywhere with them and outlined reminders of how to proceed so they didn’t go off track when things got heated on a call. It included “Active Listening Skills” and “Feeling Words.”
His eyebrows started climbing his skull.
First line said, “Reduce anger and establish rapport.” Another, “Use first name” and “Use non-judgmental language—LISTEN!!”
She needed to apply negotiator skills when dealing with Novak. And she needed to start calling him Payne.
“Payne,” his first name felt unnatural on her lips, “and I are shadowing one another during the setup phase to ensure CNU and HRT are both fully informed and onboard with operational decisions.”
Novak shot her a look of amusement, obviously recognizing the first-name thing for what it was. A ploy to foster closeness that felt weird and uncomfortable.
Dominic coughed out a laugh which she also ignored.
“We saved you a bunk.” Eban didn’t pause as he tested the sat phones. Cell phones wouldn’t work in the remote mountains, although FBI techs had set up a secure cell tower that would serve the immediate ranch area.
“McKenzie insisted we have three teams of two negotiators working with myself in an overseer’s capacity, actively liaising with HRT, so you can give that bed to one of the other negotiators when they arrive.” She swallowed to clear the knot of tension in her throat, but it was too big to dislodge. “I’ll be sharing a room with Payne for now.”
All three of her colleagues stopped what they were doing and straightened, staring hard at Novak.
Novak held up his hands in defense. “Wasn’t my idea, guys.”
“McKenzie,” Dominic gritted out.
“It doesn’t matter where I sleep.” She wasn’t a child. She was a law enforcement professional who never went anywhere unarmed, but the negotiators were protective of one another, and she appreciated their concern, even if it was unnecessary. “Right now, we’re all going to sit in on an HRT team briefing and talk strategy.”
Eban shoved back his chair and grabbed his jacket. “Secure phone lines are all set up. We found an old landline number for the Harrison property, but no one answered the first time we tried it.”
She held the door for everyone as they started heading to the barn where HRT were stationed. She’d forgotten to grab her hat and gloves, and the wind cut through her sweater. The men provided a windbreak, but it was still bitterly cold.
“Sounds like McKenzie is worried about this one,” Eban muttered close to her ear.
“He knows how quickly things can deteriorate.” The Incident Commander had infiltrated the Pioneers, a White Supremacist organization, two decades earlier. When the police had finally gone in to make arrests, a shootout had broken out, despite the presence of children on the premises. People had died.
A black-clad HRT operator on the barn door let them in. Inside she was blasted by the scent of hay which made her sneeze.
“Bless you,” Novak and Eban said in synchrony.
A few horses whinnied at the other end of the barn. The HRT vehicles were parked snug against a tractor. The Hostage Rescue Team’s aircraft were being kept at the airfield but were ready to deploy if needed.
Another HRT operator met them at the door of an inner structure. “We’re set up this way.”
A large portion of the barn had been partitioned off, and there was a series of small workshops and tack rooms, but also several four-people bunk rooms and a kitchenette area. The men had created a mini conference area in the common room with foldout picnic tables and chairs, not unlike the area the negotiators had carved out, but with more weapons and less “Feeling words.”
“The ranch caters to school visits and summer camps,” Eban explained the bunks.
Most of the HRT operators regarded her and the other negotiators with open curiosity. Although they regularly worked together, they rarely joined each other’s briefings.
McKenzie strode in behind them.
Novak stepped up to the table and looked at the map spread out there. “Where we at?”
“Getting a feel for the local topography.” An operator pointed to areas on the map. “There’s some pretty rugged terrain we might be able to utilize for overwatch sniper positions as long as the weather cooperates.”
“They have surveillance cameras spread out throughout the forest on the east side. We need to locate any others and neutralize,” Novak said.
“Or use them to our advantage,” another operator put in. “Get in and out without being seen by the cameras and give the people inside a false sense of security.”
McKenzie tipped his head. “How feasible is that?”
“Right now, we can do it,” Novak answered. “But as soon as there is snow on the ground, it’ll be more difficult to mask our tracks.”
“We need more information.” McKenzie looked up. “Set up the sniper teams with the remit to provide observation only at this juncture.”
Novak took over. “Sniper teams, Birdman and Demarco, Hersh and Rockwell. Get your gear together for the first shift. Be prepared for winter conditions. I want you here.” He pointed to a location on the map. “And here. The cameras have infrared so be on the lookout.”
Charlotte knew HRT had three tactical units in total, Gold, Blue and Red, which rotated between operations, training, and support. Each unit was comprised of one eight-man sniper team and two seven-man assaulter squads, Echo and Charlie teams.
“Angeletti, take Griffin to map out the locations of all cameras and any other technology they might have guarding the perimeter. Let them see you—they will be expecting this—but also deliberately miss a few.” Again, Novak pointed to the map. “Let’s give them what they feel might be a safe corridor for escape and have a few sheriff’s deputies staking out that area in case people make a run for it. After tonight, sniper teams will do twelve-on twelve-off shifts so they can switch out in darkness. Make sure you are equipped appropriately. No winter storms in the immediate forecast, but that can change any time, and we will need to reassess.”
McKenzie paced. “I want observation teams to help figure out exactly what we are dealing with. I have analysts at HQ determining how many people are inside and their names and pertinent background information. I have an agent digging up blueprints for the compound and tracking down whoever delivered the goddamned concrete for the structure. Novak, break out your cool toys and see if there is some way of getting eyes and ears inside. We need to find out as much information as possible regarding the occupants. Anything to add, SSA Blood?” McKenzie asked.
Charlotte took a step forward. “Whatever we do, try not to inflame the situation.”
Novak shot her a look, and she tilted up her chin.
“Right now, we want to talk to the people on Eagle Mountain because of a woman’s death and the shooting of the Federal Wildlife Officer and another deputy. We don’t want a war.” She looked at the IC. “Any word on their conditions yet?”
McKenzie propped a hip on the table. “Deputy is stable. The cold temperatures kept the wildlife officer alive. It was damn good work getting him out of there, Novak.”
There was a beat of acknowledgement
for Novak’s bravery.
Charlotte would never forget the way Novak had gone after the downed officer. She might be mad he’d done it without consultation, but she’d carry those images to her grave.
“With all due respect, SSA Blood,” Novak spoke softly, and she knew she wasn’t going to like whatever came out of his mouth. “They started this conflict. Someone in that compound probably killed that woman. They shot a federal law enforcement officer and left him to bleed out. When the sheriff tried to rescue him, another deputy was injured. Are you really suggesting we walk away, no harm no foul?”
“No. Not at all. But given the personality types probably involved, if we lay siege to that building, we risk sending it into a lockdown and creating a dangerous standoff for no reason. We risk turning this into a crisis that doesn’t need to happen.”
Novak pressed his lips together in disapproval, but she was saved by the boss.
“SSA Blood is correct. We need to gather information and figure out what actually sparked this conflict.” McKenzie nailed her with a direct stare. “I want negotiators calling in to the compound until someone answers the damn phone. And if they won’t talk on the phone, use a goddamn bullhorn.”
“No one ever made friends over a bullhorn, boss,” Charlotte said calmly. She saw an operator exchange a glance with Novak but didn’t know how to interpret it. “We are assuming there’s a landline hooked up, but we should also arrange to drop a satellite phone within the walls in case there isn’t.”
McKenzie nodded thoughtfully.
She pressed on while she had the floor. “I was thinking they most likely have some sat phones on the premises,” she stated. “I say we work on getting those phone numbers and then, rather than trying to call them straight away, we listen in on any conversations before we take control of those lines. Get a handle on who their allies are.”
“Good idea. Number one priority.” McKenzie pointed a finger at a guy beside a whiteboard who picked up a marker and started writing. “We need to figure out if there are hostages being held or not. Secondly, who are these people, and who are their associates, and what is the risk to others at this point? Third, nail down any communication channels into or out of that facility. SIOC is monitoring all media and internet outlets. Fourth, figure out what the hell happened up there on that mountain.”
Cold Wicked Lies Page 6
