4-1-1: Where Are Our Children (A Serial Novel) Episode 1 of 9

by Gary Sapp

to be a part of this team, like he asked for you to be a part of the team.” He checked his Rolex. “In fact, the director himself should be arriving himself any minute now.”

  “Benny Stanton sent us a list with specific FBI personnel that he would not negotiate with. I’m not on this list; this man is at the top of it.” Ryan had extended his hand to her, but she left it hanging there naked and exposed in the morning chill. And if you saw how this man single handily cost lives at Waco you would see my point.

  “Stanton or no one else dictates terms here, Doctor.” Angel was unsure whether Sheridan had raised his voice because to be heard over the circling helicopter flying into place, or to make his point of emphasis clear to her. He glanced at the Rolex again. “At first light, Stanton agreed to release several of the oldest women and youngest children in exchange for the talks beginning. Eight people have already walked out of that building alive. I call that progress, Doctor.”

  A strong gust of wind whipped through from Peachtree Street, the helicopters’ blades making it all the worse. Angel hugged herself, pulled her hoodie back over her head and hunched her shoulders. “He agreed to those releases as an exercise in good faith, Agent Sheridan. He messaged us that he would begin talking only after one of the individuals he asked for showed up. He’s tied tongued, Sheridan. He’s no dummy. This is sure to provoke him.”

  Angel is saved from another round of Sheridan’s undressing as all three of them notice a black Chrysler swerving through the maze of idol police cruisers, government vehicles and barricades until its breaks squeal and two more men exit out each of the back seat doors and a young woman rises from the passenger side. A uniformed APD officer nods at their questions and points them both in the vicinity where this party is bracing themselves against the biting cold.

  Angel recognized the older of the two immediately, smiled when the other man’s features became familiar to her, and pitched an educated guess to who the younger woman was.

  Deputy Director Rice:

  He was pale and thin and wore brown rimmed spectacles and reeked of coffee and cigarette smoke when he shook her hand and passed a container of coffee in her direction. He never took his eyes off of Angel as he shook both Sheridan and Ryan’s hands and patted the latter man on the back with some affection. You haven’t changed a bit, have you, Ray.

  Special Agent Romeo Kendall:

  He was a panda shaped Black man with a slow right eye and a too lively twitch of his upper lip and he still was wearing a hairstyle better suited for the late 1980’s. He’d been promoted to Commander of the Lead Rescue Team in the past six months, or so Angel’s sources inside the bureau had told her.

  Special Agent Tabitha Blue:

  She was a skinny brunette in her early thirties with big ears sticking out from underneath the thin hair and she had a noticeable overbite. Angel smiled inwardly that Christopher’s partner was the quintessential girl next door carrying a badge and a gun. Agent Blue referred to Angel as madam and extended her skeleton hand enough for the doctor to squeeze her fingers.

  After introductions were made and the stressful reality of the moment engulfed her once more, Romeo’s appearance in particular, caused Angel to reevaluate her surroundings. She’d been involved with enough of these scenarios, both in simulation and in the field, to readily identify what she was seeing. She heard another FBI copter arrive on the scene as she stole a sip of her copter, fighting the cold winds thrashed up because of the copter’s blades.

  She knew that each copter served its own unit of three or four agents in the copter itself and another six sharpshooters on the ground. Angel knew that the FBI liked to conduct operations in threes…and over there, just past those pine trees, she saw yet another helicopter had been dispatched and was skimming over the horizon. So there were at least nine if not more sharpshooters sitting, almost invisible around the theater ready to strike when called upon.

  In addition, if memory served her, there were Mobile Tactical Teams of Logistics, Intelligence, Communications, and Command Staffs making up the bulk of the personnel squeezing into a one mile radius surrounding the theater as well. Serena, what web have you spun here? Angel had already worked out the theory that the siege part of Stanton’s maneuver here at The Fox Theatre was of his own doing and ad live of the events of 411. However many operatives you have with you, Serena fixed you with the task of indiscriminate killing of everyone inside and then you were supposed to get out. If Stanton somehow managed to survive the next few days or hours in this standoff and extract what he wanted from the FBI, he was likely to die as Serena’s hands for disobeying orders.

  She burned Ryan with a look that would have warmed her coffee and cursed him in her mind. One screw up holding a gun and hostages inside didn’t deserve another on the outside holding a bullhorn.

  “Sheridan, listen.” Angel grabbed him by the elbow, deciding that now was not an ideal time to breach protocol. I will follow the chain of command. She then shared with the group, through talking directly with Agent Sheridan, her theories about Stanton breaking ranks from Pandora and acting on his own.

  “I don’t totally disagree with your assessment, Doctor.” Sheridan said. “That’s Stanton’s MO alright.”

  Chief negotiator Justin Ryan finally chimed in. “Is that your final professional analysis of this situation, Doctor.” He spat her title at her. “Or is that some type of psychological analysis of a situation that you have no technical expertise in. What I’m saying is…perhaps this is evidence of you letting your emotional investment govern your thought process.”

  “No, Justin, that isn’t evidence at all.” She gave him the finger. “This is.”

  Ryan snorted and through his hands up. “Son of a bitch,” He said. “Raymond, you actually keep people like this on the government’s payroll.”

  The Deputy Director downed the last of his coffee and slapped Ryan on his shoulder again. “Calm down, Justin.” He pointed his empty coffee cup at Angel. “And play nice, Doctor.” He then pointed the coffee cup at Sheridan to give him the floor once more.

  Sheridan cleared his throat and assumed command. “Each one of you is here because you bring a unique talent and area of expertise to this crisis. I’m going to need a mixture of these talents, expertise and experience to get us through this and ultimately save those people inside that theatre.”

  “That is what I’m trying to do.” Angel said. “Forgive me, sir, but we all do remember a little historical blunder called Waco don’t we?”

  Sheridan said, “Doctor, please. I don’t think we should—“

  “And why shouldn’t we?” Angel folded her arms, drawing her line in sand here and now. She put all of her focus on Ryan so there would be no mistake of who she was referring to. “This man was personally responsible for the firestorm that engulfed the Mount Carmel Center in Texas and the 70 some odd deaths of the Branch Dravidians that resulted from it.”

  Ryan tossed his coffee cup into the breeze, pulled in his gut and bowed his narrow chest out. “Don’t you dare lecture me on what you perceive you know, young lady. I have no regrets on the decisions I made that day. Every action I ordered served a greater peace, a greater security for the country I served and the country I still love.”

  “Peace?” Angel cocked a brow at the referenced word. “My father was on the ATF team that had been there for 51 days before the FBI allowed you to run the negotiations.” She heard her voice soften. “My father wasn’t a good man. He was a turd in fact, but he stayed behind for days after the siege ended and helped dig those people’s carcasses out of that rubble. He took those singed images…and the smells of those babies, of your peace, he found to his grave with him.”

  “Many lives were lost that day, that’s true. I’ve never denied it. But my focus lies in the days and years that followed since that fateful day. I would give the order again today. I will give the order again today. I will sacrifice every man, woman and child left inside that theatre if it gives some assurances that this situation
doesn’t happen again for another 15 or 20 years.” Justin Ryan cursed aloud. “It means that I am doing my job.”

  “Hopefully, you will be dead long before an event happens like this again.” Angel said and meant.

  “That’s enough, both of you.” Rice said in exasperation. He took a deep breath and swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and made contact with Romeo. “Are all of your people in place?”

  “That’s an affirmative.” Romeo Kendall pulled out an architectural blueprint of The Fox Theatre and adjacent buildings and nearby streets. “We have snipers positioned here…here…and here. Their weapons are hot and they only await targets to fall into view and a go.”

  The smoky haze that had been an Atlanta trademark over the past few months blew in without little warning. The dry area stirred up a coughing fit from Romeo. He collected himself, said, “Two mobility units are stationed on the upper southeastern edge of the structure. They are lightly armed and as their name imply and are extremely mobile. They are moving into place and await further instructions as you and I speak, sir. Our three helicopters have jurisdiction over the skies for the mandated six miles out. No one will enter this zone. That means limited media coverage. That also means that if Stanton has some visual of what is