by Tom Barber
Therefore, his non-appearance from collecting the final list of groceries for their kids’ birthday party was highly unusual. Waiting anxiously at their home with family members who’d already arrived, his wife had just called the hospital where they confirmed that Ramesh had left well over an hour ago. After trying his cell a few more times, she started to become increasingly worried. The tally of unanswered calls was now up to ten.
So her next contact was to the police.
‘He was heading to the Wegmans in town when I last spoke to him,’ she told the 911 operator.
‘Could he have run into a friend, or be having car trouble, Ma’am? He’s not been gone that long.’
‘You don’t understand, my husband is never late for anything. He knew he had to get home to help me set up. And when he’s not in surgery, he always answers his phone.’
‘You said he was going to Wegmans?’
‘That’s right, the one on Peach Street.’ The call was put out to local police units, and a pair of Erie PD officers who weren’t far from the large store responded before taking the turn and pulling into the lot less than a minute later. They were given the plates for the man’s Mercedes but although they couldn’t see it parked anywhere, decided to take a look inside the supermarket as they were here anyway.
‘Like to have me one of those,’ one of them said after a brief whistle, eyeing up a red Mustang they passed as the two officers walked towards the large building’s entrance.
Around the same time that the two cops had told one of the checkout staff why they were there and were being taken to the security camera room with the shift manager, at the Motel 6 Tejwani searched through the bags Nicky had bought and withdrew two items: a bike pump and a two liter bottle of water.
‘Empty out most of that,’ he said, passing the bottle to Nicky, who hesitated. ‘I’m not going to run. I’ll do it myself if I have to.’ He rose to follow Nicky into the bathroom and watched as he poured three quarters of the contents into the wash basin. ‘Now, you need to-‘ Tejwani said, but Nicky was already picking up the bike pump; he cut its plastic tubing free with the Leatherman, clipped it into two lengths, one long and one short. He wiped both down with antiseptic then stuck one end of each length into the empty bottle, the longer section going into the remaining water. He then used some of the tape he’d bound the doctor’s hands and feet with earlier to seal the top of the bottle.
Nicky placed the bottle by the bed as they both returned to Kat. ‘I have to make an incision,’ the doctor told her, taking the Leatherman pocketknife Nicky cautiously passed him. ‘Can I do that?’
She nodded, her focus slightly blurry from the booze, but she was still sober enough to be frightened.
‘Get her ready again.’ Nicky got back into position with the pillow, his eyes still on the knife, as Tejwani used a final antiseptic wipe two inches below the bullet-hole. He wiped the blade and then used it to make a cut, Kat biting into the pillow but not screaming this time, the alcohol taking stronger effect now and doing its job to help temporarily numb the pain. After Nicky took charge of the Leatherman again, Tejwani fed the length of the longer tube into Kat’s side, and turned his head to instruct Nicky but the escaped convict was already lifting the bottle.
Bubbles started to come out of the length of the tube dangling in the water remaining inside.
‘C’mon, young lady,’ Tejwani said. ‘Let it work.’
She suddenly took a deep breath, and exhaled, breathing in and out again like normal, the lung re-inflated.
‘How did you know how to…?’ Tejwani asked. Nicky didn’t answer, instead offering his hand. The doctor, confused by this strange young man, peeled off his glove and shook it.
Back in Cleveland, having just returned to the cheap hotel from visiting Blair O’Mara at her home in Pepper Pike, Marquez entered the room Archer had booked for another twenty four hours and let the door close on itself behind her.
She twisted the lock then wandered towards the bed, her neck and shoulders sore, her eyes still dry and tired from the all-night drive. Wearing a detective badge regularly meant losing sleep and disturbed nights; she’d become conditioned to it over the years but also knew to rest when she could. Fatigue could cause her to miss important details, clues which could affect the outcome of a case or end up costing or saving someone’s life, including her own. She had plenty to think about, but could do that while she took a shower before a quick lie down. An hour’s rest and she’d be ready to rock and roll again.
She went through to the bathroom and dropped a mat onto the floor before turning on the shower, then moved back next door to remove her Smith and Wesson sidearm in its holster and place it on the bed. A back-up pistol followed, strapped to her ankle, and she kicked off her shoes before peeling off her clothes. She went back into the bathroom and tested the water before stepping under the showerhead.
She stood beneath the spray for almost two minutes, enjoying the sensation of the hot water beating down onto her tired shoulders, then started to use a fresh bar of soap provided by the hotel. Up next was her hair; despite having washed it at the motel outside Gatlin on Friday night, she’d still smelt traces of pepper spray during the ride here from Virginia, but when she looked at the small bottle the hotel had left in the stall, decided she wanted to use her own shampoo.
Keeping the water running, she stepped out and wrapped a towel around her to keep from making the tiled bathroom floor slippery, then padded through to the main bedroom. She found the bottle in her washbag and started to walk back to the shower.
Water was still splashing in the tub, the mirror in the main room misting up from the steam wafting through the open door, her feet silent on the carpeted floor. Out of habit, Marquez glanced at the main door to her room on her way back to the bathroom.
And she stopped.
The peep hole leading to the outside corridor had been showing light before but right now it was dark. A tiny detail, but something she noticed.
She stayed still, one hand keeping her towel wrapped around her. Someone stopped outside to text on a phone maybe?
Or a trick of the light?’
Or someone was standing right outside the door.
Placing the bottle of shampoo down on the floor, she took one slow step after another towards the door, holding her towel around her, keeping to the wall to avoid creating a moving shadow that could be seen under the door. She was two steps away, then one, before she heard a tiny click.
It was the same one she’d heard a few minutes ago when she’d used the keycard to unlock the room.
Archer? she thought. It couldn’t be. He was already gone and he’d knock first, not just walk in.
The handle then started to push down very slowly. Marquez watched it just the other side of the door, but at the last moment, her hand went up and stepping forward, she eased the small security bar lock across.
The metal didn’t make a sound, the hinges well oiled. She moved back silently and the door then started to open equally quietly.
Equally slowly.
It stopped when it reached the end of the security bar. The door was open now, although by only an inch. Marquez stood perfectly still, occasional beads of water dripping from her hair to the carpet with tiny, quiet thuds.
The door remained where it was on the end of the lock bar, then it closed again.
A few seconds later, a small length of card slid into the gap towards the lock bar and with the door now almost shut, the card pushed the lock bar away from the bolt.
Removing the last barrier.
But the moment the door had closed, Marquez had shifted rapidly. She’d pulled on her jeans and t-shirt then slipped her S&W handgun from its holster, her heart going like a triphammer as she took cover behind the bed and held her breath.
She watched as the card was slowly pulled back and lifted her pistol up with the safety off, the shower still running. The mirror by now was a complete wall of mist, the steam from the shower still drifting int
o the room.
She had her gun aimed at the door, held rock solid, looking down the sights.
But then her cell phone started ringing on the bed. Her eyes darted to it, then up at the door. A pause followed. Would whoever was out there think she’d leave the shower to answer it?
The answer was yes.
An instant later, the unlocked door to the room was kicked back; she couldn’t shoot in that moment, not knowing who this was, but saw in the doorway the outline of two large men wearing balaclava ski masks, both carrying a raised weapon.
They saw her too. She dropped to the carpet behind the bed as a suppressed burst of bullets chewed up the cheap hotel room, smashing the window opposite the door and destroying the TV, tufts of mattress spraying into the air. The door was being held open by whoever was firing the sub-machine guns, feathers and pieces of fabric flying around Marquez like confetti as she stayed low. She moved up to the end of the bed and blasted back several times in the direction of the door, her gunshots echoing harshly unlike theirs. Another half magazine’s worth of bullets ripped up more of the room, shattering what was left of the window, a few of the bullets showering Marquez with more feathers from the destroyed pillowcases as she retreated back closer to the wall and fired again at the door.
The entry point to the room was narrow and she was just managing to keep them back, but knew she couldn’t for much longer. She was cornered, and in her desperation thought of Archer jumping off that bridge the other night to survive. However, there was no water beneath her room, just concrete; she looked at the almost completely obliterated window, the glass covering the carpet below it and a chair knocked over at the end of the bed.
The room was on the 1st floor overlooking the street and she remembered there was an awning directly below.
She could survive the drop.
But the glass would shred her bare feet before she could get to the window; she lunged forward to retrieve her shoes, then pulled back as whoever was firing from the door resumed with a fresh magazine, hitting where she’d been moments ago, the wall below the window now a mass of bullet holes.
With both guys firing at once, she knew they’d have to reload and waited for a pause. When it came, she pushed herself back to her feet and fired at the door repeatedly as she ran for the window.
Down on the street below, a sedan had drawn up outside the hotel about a minute ago, the driver talking to the porter when they’d heard gunshots coming from somewhere above.
They’d both gone for cover just inside the building’s entrance and as they peered up uncertainly, a figure tore through the awning and hit the roof of the car hard. The person bounced onto the hood, then rolled and landed on the concrete facedown before lying completely still. The two men saw she was a Latina woman with wet shoulder-length dark hair, a handgun resting in her grip on the ground.
She lay there unmoving, blood slowly starting to pool onto the concrete around her head. Shocked, the driver looked up through the damaged awning to see where the hell this woman could have fallen from and caught the briefest glimpse of two figures looking down from a window a floor above.
But seconds later, they were gone.
THIRTY FIVE
In Erie, Dr Tejwani had just been located by the local cops. Or more accurately, an image of him recorded an hour ago had been.
On monitors in the Wegmans security room, rerunning footage from the cameras covering the parking lot, the missing doctor was watched by the pair of officers as he approached his Mercedes. They’d been told what time the hospital at UPMC Hamot had reported him leaving, so finding the doctor on the recording hadn’t taken long. They’d seen him arriving and fifteen minutes later saw him return to the car with his bagged groceries.
And also what happened next.
‘Oh shit,’ one of the officers said quietly. But then he leaned closer. ‘Yo. Is that…’
‘This is 3-Charlie-10 responding to the missing doctor call,’ his partner radioed in, taking the initiative. ‘Looks like the doc was kidnapped at gunpoint in the store parking lot. Individual in t-shirt and jeans. Might be a long shot, but he looks close to the description of one of the wanted men Ohio said might be coming our way.’
‘This is 3-Adam-23, doctor’s vehicle located,’ another voice then cut in, hearing the transmission over the wire. ‘I’m looking at the Mercedes parked outside the Motel 6 on Schultz Road. Plate is a match.’
‘Adam-23, stay back but keep eyes on the vehicle. Code 1, repeat, Code 1,’ their sergeant said, as the pair ran out of the store towards their squad car. ‘Dispatch, we need SWAT deployed immediately, this could be a hostage situation.’
’10-4. All units, please be advis…’
Inside the motel room, the tubing had been removed from Kat’s side now her lung was functioning again, and Tejwani was sitting on the edge of the other bed. The girl’s torso was freshly bandaged, and she’d taken some antibiotics Nicky had picked up from his trip to Wegmans with a prescription the doctor had quickly scribbled out for the pharmacy located inside the store. She was also now wearing a new plain white slim-fit collared shirt he’d bought her off the rack and was already looking slightly better.
‘Relax, doc, otherwise we’re gonna need to reinflate your lungs next,’ Nicky told the doctor, seeing how nervous he was. Tejwani closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Nicky pulled the holdall over and counted out a couple thousand dollars from a cash brick; he offered the notes to the doctor.
‘I don’t want that,’ Tejwani said.
‘I forced you into coming here.’
‘I doubt that’s your money to give.’ The doctor didn’t take the bills, so Nicky trapped them under the lamp on the table.
‘I have to tie you up again,’ Nicky said. ‘I’m sorry.’
For one brief moment Tejwani considered resisting, but as calm as the young man was, the doctor had recognized them both from watching the news headlines when he was eating breakfast that morning and knew what he and the woman on the bed were wanted for. Surviving this situation had become Tejwani’s only goal. So he lay back docilely on the bed and Nicky taped his hands to the frame before binding his ankles and knees, the roll of tape almost gone.
‘When I booked the room, guy at the desk said the maid starts cleaning around 2 o’clock, so you won’t be tied here too long.’ The time was just past 1pm; the doctor only had an hour to wait. Nicky taped over the man’s mouth. ‘Still breathing?’ Tejwani nodded, surprised that the Gatlin fugitive cared whether he was or not. Nicky retrieved the money from under the lamp and tucked it into the Indian-American surgeon’s pocket. ‘Give it to the cops as evidence if you don’t want to keep it. I gotta borrow your car but the cops will bring it back later, I’m sure.’ He paused. ‘Thanks again.’
Nicky went to the window to check the coast was clear, intending to carry Kat outside to the Mercedes.
But as he watched from his position on the bed, Tejwani saw the prison escapee’s body language change as he peered through a small gap in the blinds.
‘The Loughlins and Lupinetti lit off towards the New York line in two separate cruisers,’ Archer quickly told a couple of Pennsylvania State troopers just south of the city of Erie on Station Road, several of their vehicles having recently arrived at the scene after responding to the emergency call Archer had put out over one of the dead local officer’s radios. He’d also reported the incident with the family in the SUV whom the three fugitives had been about to kill and who’d been located further down the road. They were badly shaken but otherwise had escaped unscathed, the only people who’d encountered the Loughlins in the last twenty four hours to do so.
‘Erie PD?’ one of the troopers asked, as he and colleagues saw the bodies of the fallen officers.’
‘Yeah, black and white cars, gold lettering,’ Archer replied.
‘The rides must’ve been shot up pretty bad,’ a trooper stated, seeing glass all over the road as more arriving backup braked and blocked off the stretch of highway, p
rotecting the scene. Others were in the undergrowth, inspecting the murdered cops while some were checking the interior of the Winnebago, the two dead young Penn State students slumped in the front seats.
‘They were, these sons of bitches seem to have an arsenal,’ Archer told the troopers. ‘They’re gonna blast through any-’
‘Sighting of Nicky Reyes north of here!’ another trooper called over.
‘Where?’ the man beside Archer asked.
‘Outside a Motel 6 in the city, on Schultz.’
‘I know the one,’ the trooper speaking to Archer said. ‘That’s less than thirty miles away. Maybe they’re trying to meet up.’
Erie’s police department already had a task force on standby after they’d been contacted at sunrise by the US Marshals running the search from Cleveland, warning them about the chance the four wanted men and one woman could be heading their way and the level of threat they posed.
It meant the SWAT team reached the Motel 6 within ten minutes. Sharpshooters quickly took up positions, the keen-eyed patrolman who’d spotted the Mercedes belonging to Dr Tejwani now joined by other police units who were waiting further down the street, not wanting to give the fugitive possibly holed up in the room any hint that he’d been found.
A line of five task force officers crept down the row of motel rooms towards the one they’d been told had been paid for earlier by a man matching Reyes’ description, all of the SWAT officers wearing body armor and carrying assault weapons. When they arrived outside the door, one of the men who was holding a ram moved up to the front, the team not wanting to use a shotgun for entry with a hostage potentially inside.
The Gatlin Four had created havoc since they’d escaped prison two days ago, and the local dispatcher was just reporting that less than thirty minutes prior, three of them had killed four Erie officers and two college students at a roadblock just south of the city. These fugitives needed to be taken down hard, and at least one of the four could be right here in this room, armed and dangerous.