by Jim Plautz
The clock struck 1:00 PM and Matthew Wilson walked up front steps of Shorewood High School, cameras equipped with zoom lenses relaying every step to millions of viewers across the world. Matthew stood at the front doors, waiting for the Chechnya terrorists to let him in. The doors opened and Matthew Wilson crossed the threshold, possibly for the last time.
Network and cable cameras switched to commercials, but the CIA kept on watching. The miniature camera implanted in a contact lens covering Matthew’s right iris recorded everything that Matthew saw including the c-4 explosives and detonation device wired to the front door.
“We got it,” a technician exclaimed as Matthew gave him a perfect view of the timer.
“Can we disable it?” his boss asked.
“Cutting the electricity won’t do any good, but we can zap it with a laser,” the techie replied. “Give the word and we’ll fry it.”
“Can our men get through the door without setting off the C-4?”
“It’ll take a locksmith about 90 seconds, two minutes tops, to get around the deadbolt and then we’re in.”
“We might not have 90 seconds. Is there a faster way?”
“Someone could open it from the inside once we knock out the detonator, any volunteers?”
“Coach Simpson,” the Director thought. Wilson had stayed behind while Matthew escaped from the school. Wilson had just enough time to deliver the photos and describe to the CIA what he had seen before he turned and made his dramatic 1:00 PM reentry, into the waiting arms of Yury and his gang of terrorists.
Jim Simpson waited near the electrical room for the signal to cut the power to the selected areas. The CIA people had walked him through the procedure. Now he had nothing to do but wait. He sat on the floor, a two foot long lead pipe within his grasp. “Just in case,” Matthew had said when he gave him the weapon.
“I wish I had this a couple times in practice. It might have helped me get through to you knuckleheads.”
“You did pretty well without it, Coach. We were lucky to have you.”
“I was pretty lucky to have them,” Coach said to himself, as tears glistened in his eyes.It had been over an hour since Matthew had gone and he longed for some news. Matthew’s escape route included a climb to the roof and a twenty foot jump to an overhanging tree limb. Had he made it?
The phone rang interrupting his thoughts. It was Chris. “How you holding up Coach?”
“I’m okay, did Matthew make it?”
“He did, and turned himself over to the terrorists about 45 minutes ago. The rest of the hostages Yury promised to deliver were freed.”
“At least the bastard kept his word on that. How many are there left?”
“711, including you,” Chris replied. “We won’t forget about you. By the way, Ken wants to know if you’ll be back in time for Monday’s staff meeting.”
“Tell him I’ll skip this one, and maybe a few more after that. Tell him to keep his stories and anecdotes to a minimum, keep the meetings short.”
“Okay, I’ll tell him, but you know it won’t do any good,”
“I know.”
“By the way, Jim, there is one thing you can do for us.”
“Oh oh, here it comes. What is it?”
“It’s probably what you were going to do anyway, but now we’re putting you on a clock. Kill the electricity when they tell you and then run like hell to open the front doors. You’ll have 20 seconds.”
I tried to visualize the route I would need to take. “Chris, we are cutting it close. I hope there are no delays. Will there be a problem opening the doors?”
“No, just push down on the gold bar like you normally would. We should have disabled the detonator by then. Ignore the explosives strapped to the doors.”
“You ‘should’ have disabled the detonators by then; did I hear you correctly?”
“All I can say Jim, is be ready to improvise,” Chris said, trying to convey the uncertainty of the situation. “This is one of those situations with a lot of moving parts, a lot can go wrong.”
“Anything else?” I asked
“Yeah, good luck.”
“Thanks, Chris. You’ve been a good friend.”
I called Rosann, ignoring the CIA instructions to keep the line open and save batteries. There was a lot I wanted to say, but all I could think of was to say that I love her.
“I love you too,” she replied. “By the way, we’re having salmon for dinner. Don’t be late.”
Matthew was led into the gymnasium and was immediately struck by the stench of body odor, despair and fear. The release of 300 hostages had alleviated much of the crowding, but there was still too many people in a confined area. The mood in the room improved as Matthew’s entrance was noted. The hostages sat up and the flavors of hope and optimism were added to the mixture. Matthew didn’t say anything, but looked slowly around him making eye contact with as many students and faculty as possible. He noticed how the terrorists were deployed and where his basketball teammates were located. He also saw the explosives wired to the basketball rims and backboards, just like in the Besian school. Everything he saw was transmitted to CIA headquarters.
Yury stopped the small parade at midcourt. “Matthew Wilson, Phenom. You don’t look so special to me. You look like some card shark that runs scams on old ladies and then runs out on his friends without paying his debts. Is that what you are? A scam artist? A con man?”
Matthew saw that one of the terrorists was filming the discussion and knew he needed to be careful about what he said. He also knew Yury had a couple screws loose and it wouldn’t take much to set him off. Matthew replied appropriately.
“You’re a gutless, child killer,” Matthew started. “Didn’t you kill enough children in Russia six years ago?” Matthew then spoke in Yury’s native tongue and told him what he really thought of him. Matthew stopped and waited calmly for Yury’s response.
The CIA team sat in the same conference room and was shocked when the translation to English came through. Is this the same person, calm and deliberate, that they spoke on the phone with earlier? Why was he baiting Yury?
“He knows what he’s doing,” Chris said aloud, hoping she was right. He never loses his temper. He has something in mind.”
Yury’s face turned red. It was obvious he was furious to be belittled in front of his own people, in his native language. That was a personal insult and he knew it. He would have the last word. He smiled broadly; he hit on a way to get his revenge before he killed them all. “Get me a basketball,” he demanded, as an idea popped into his head. It was a perfect way to humiliate this pompous American,
“They tell me you are a basketball player, is that true?”
Matthew nodded.
“Are you the best basketball player ever?” Yury continued.
Matthew refused to answer until Yury grabbed a hostage and put a gun to her head. “Are you the best ever?”
“Some say that, but I don’t know,” Matthew responded. The answer was good enough for Yury.
“Can you make a free throw?”
“Yes.”
“Under pressure?”
“Yes.”
“Show me,” Yury ordered, handing Matthew the basketball and leading Matthew to the free throw line of one of the baskets.
“Swish,” was the only sound heard as Matthew’s free throw was dead center.
“Okay, now let’s put a little pressure on you, something to make it interesting. “Georgy, put this grenade on the metal plate attaching the rim to the basket and tie the pin to the rim.”Everyone waited as Georgy completed his work.
Yury wasn’t finished. “Now grab five of these hostages and sit them under the basket.” Georgy l did as instructed.
“Now, Mr. Phenom, let’s see how good you are with a little pressure. Vlad, put this video on the internet so that the entire world can see this imposter for what he is.” Yury tossed the basketball at Matthew.
“This isn’t good,” one of the CIA agents exclaimed. Th
at grenade is balanced precariously. It will fall if the ball catches any part of the rim. Matthew will need to get all net.”
Matthew caught the ball, but made no effort to shoot.
“Shoot the ball or I’ll execute these hostages myself and give you five more. It’s your decision.”
“What are you risking?” Matthew asked. “Are you a man or a coward?” Matthew challenged.
“What do you suggest?” Yury asked in frustration.
“The hostages go free if I make the free throw without dislodging the grenade.”
Yury smiled, knowing more than half of made free throws catch some part of the rim. “You have a bet.”
“I also want to address my classmates for what may be the last time.”
“Go ahead,” Yury said, “but keep it brief, and no tricks.”
“I want to say one last time how much I enjoyed working with all of you, particularly my teammates and those of you that were at the games. Remember the first game against Waukesha? We played zone defense and everyone took the man in their area. I asked some of you to be leaders and you came through for me when the time was right. I scored forty points that night, but it was because of you that we won. I wish we could that again sometime. And remember, you might not be able to score 40, but when your time comes you can kick some ass. I love you.”
“He never scored 40 points against Waukesha; he only played less than a quarter. That must be the signal. We attack when he shoots his 40th free throw.”
Matthew looked at the hostages and addressed them by name. “William, Martha, Mrs. Reynolds, Peter, Susan; please do not be afraid. Pray that the Lord will watch over you.”
Mathew then eyed the front of the rim, took one dribble and calmly shot the ball.
“Swish!”
The hostages were release and five new hostages took their place. The routine was the same – only the names of the hostages changed.
“Swish!”
“Swish!”
“He never blinks,” a CIA agent commented as they watched the transmission through the camera imbedded in Matthew’s eye.
“Swish!”
“Swish!”
“Swish!”
This routine went on for just over an hour while Yury fought to control his growing rage. Matthew made 39 consecutive free throws, not one of them touching the rim. Millions of watchers were riveted to their televisions. You didn’t need to be a basketball fan to understand what was happening.
The hostages for the 40th attempt included Jerry Haas, the football player from Waukesha who Matthew challenged to become a leader. The 40th free throw banged hard against the front of the rim, dislodging the grenade and resulting in a primal scream from Matthew.
“Let’s Kick Ass”
Coach cut the electricity to the gym and areas where they knew there were explosives. Jerry Haas caught the falling grenade and hurled it behind the bleachers where it exploded harmlessly. Matthew disarmed the explosives under the basket and then raced full court to the other goal and tackled the terrorist assigned to manually detonate the explosives wired to the backboard.
Shots were fired and explosives went off, but miraculously the students did not panic. Instead, they played zone defense and attacked the closest terrorist. There were 12 terrorists pitted against 600 angry students and faculty. The terrorists never had a chance.
It took 18 seconds for Coach to open the front door and another 24 seconds for the SWAT team to reach the gymnasium. They were seconds too late, the hostages had everything under control.
Chapter 21 - Capture