Sequence 77
Copyright © 2019 Darin M. Preston
Although some of the people and places within are based upon historical figures and places, all characterizations and events are fictional.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the author.
Cover art copyright © 2019 Derek S. Preston
Interior art, layout copyright © 2019 Darin M. Preston
Special thanks to secondary editing team, you know who you are!
Thank you Mom & Dad
Previous version edited by Jean A. Turman, 2011. www.Creative2aT. com
ISBN-13: 978-0692176405
Author’s Note:
The original version of Sequence 77 was released in 2011. It was a proud moment that served as a way to finally release the story from my thoughts after more than twenty years. However, I came to realize that the story wasn’t through with me just yet.
Seven years of thought, reader feedback and two other published titles brought me back to Sequence 77. I’ve changed the order of chapters and refined every paragraph. The framework of the original persists, but the spirit is far closer to my original intent.
I feel that the story resonates more truthfully with each passing day. The story may be fiction, but its lessons are solidly grounded within the here and now.
Thank you for reading Sequence 77.
Darin M. Preston
Chapter 1
BLINK
Huntington, West Virginia
1989
AQUA-GREEN WATER of the Ohio River churned its way relentlessly through the center of the bustling city as the noon-hour sun transformed the pavement into a griddle. Now in full swing, midweek programming took full effect on all who droned through their familiar routines until ultimately reasserting control in time to become warriors of the weekend. Streets and sidewalks came to life with patrons rushing in and out of local eateries like voracious ants, attempting to satiate their collective hunger within a thirty-minute time span. With tide-like predictability pushing and pulling them along, few noticed anything unusual. However, just a few blocks away at the Cabell County Public Library, the unusual was quickly asserting itself.
With every second a valuable commodity, Special Agent Jerome Perkins wasted little of it asserting his authority over the developing crisis. Having long removed the dark blue FBI jacket from his back, perspiration persisted as Agent Perkins rolled up the sleeves of his stark white shirt. A master conductor, he orchestrated movements of the women and men under his charge, with gesture more than word. Only those unaccustomed to his guiding hand required guidance in verbal form.
“Sergeant Stein, I need a safety perimeter cleared around the building. That includes media.” The intensity of the look he leveled at the officer was clear enough for anyone to understand. No mistakes. Jerome made sure to look squarely at whomever he gave orders to. If a directive wasn’t being taken to heart, he could see it in their eyes.
The stout sergeant whistled sharply at two uniformed officers diverting foot traffic. “Hans…Dave!” he shouted, pointing in the direction of a growing crowd of onlookers that had formed nearby. “Move ’em out, keep ’em out. You know the drill boys,” he said, sounding like a cattle trail boss as the officers snapped into action. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he turned back to Agent Perkins. “We’re on it, but there’s something you oughta know.” Bringing a hand up to nervously caress his peppered gray goatee, sweat began to bead around his temples.
One eyebrow jutted upward as Jerome scrutinized the officer’s uneasy body language. Bracing for bad news, he glowered at the reluctant officer. “Spit it out Sergeant. I can’t afford to be in the dark here.”
As if ripping off a poorly placed band aid, Stein spoke with obvious haste. “Two of my officers are already inside.”
Muscles tightened like guitar strings as Jerome tried to massage the back of his own neck. The kind of lines one usually earns through years of stress appeared to deepen instantly around his temples. Dark eyes flashed with intensity as he growled at Stein. “Your men were ordered to wait until the Hostage Rescue Team arrived. I spoke with you myself.”
Holding up his hands innocently, Stein did his best to assure the agent that his orders weren’t ignored. At least not by him. “An off-duty rookie was already in the building when things went down. The other one…well…he’s never been worth two shits in the listening department.” Shaking his head, frustration permeated his voice. “I told him to secure the area outside until backup arrived. Believe me, this ain’t what I had in mind.”
Visually scanning the entire areas as he thought, Agent Perkins watched as a steady progression of city police officers created a secure perimeter around the library. With both Fifth Avenue and Ninth Street closed off, the possibility of reporters and bystanders being inadvertently caught up in the situation had been diminished greatly.
Tall columns of reflective glass rose high across the face of the modern-looking structure, and shadows encased the recessed entrance to the library below. The plaza in front of the building provided limited cover, forcing law enforcement officers to use their squad cars for concealment. More than a dozen police vehicles littered the area in a makeshift barricade of steel and pulsating light. Jerome himself stood behind the black Crown Victoria he had parked as close to the building as he dared, using the closed trunk as a table for viewing the building’s blueprints. Sharpshooters had taken up vantage points on surrounding community buildings such as the post office, town hall, and the old county library located just across Ninth Street. Unfortunately, the angle of the sun at this time of day created too much glare on the windows to provide much of a view to the inside of the building.
Jerome immediately began the familiar process of reassessing the situation. “Alright then. Who are your men on the inside?”
Relived to have not gotten more of a dressing-down, Stein gave his report. “Officer Jack Beck and a new recruit named Seth Alexander.”
“Is the recruit normally partnered with Beck?” Jerome asked, tilting his head curiously.
Cringing noticeably, Stein had hoped that exact question could have been avoided. “Not…uh...not exactly,” he stammered nervously. “Alexander’s in training as a specialist in…crisis negotiation.” He shrugged helplessly, knowing full-well what was coming next.
Incredulous, Jerome’s eyes widened in disbelief. Turning fully toward the uniformed man standing beside him. “I suppose I’m just supposed to swallow that you happened to have a negotiator in the building at the exact moment a multiple hostage situation came up?” His deep voice rose steadily with the accusation.
Stein shook his head at the insinuation. “I know, I know. I’d be thinking the same thing, but I ain’t pullin’ yer chain on this. The kid was already in the building when it all went down. Is it my fault the rookie is the kind of egghead who goes to the library on his days off?” Raising his hands slightly to his sides, he knew there wasn’t much of a defense for his other officer’s actions. “I didn’t give Beck an order to go after him, but it sure don’t surprise me he went in.”
“Why’s that?” Jerome asked reflexively.
Any sense of being intimidated melted away as Stein leveled his gaze right back at Agent Perkins. “Can’t work with a cop for twenty years and not know how they think. Jack wasn’t gonna let a rook be in there alone. None of us would.”
Reading Stein’s unmistakable pride in his officers, Jerome decided to drop the argument for now and focus on his assessment of the situation. “Was officer Beck able to reach Alexander?” he asked, turning b
ack toward the building.
“No, but they do have visual contact with one another and Beck has his two-way.”
“Has he been able to tell you anything about what it looks like in there?”
Stein took a short breath and nodded. “The perp sounds like some sort of conspiracy whack-job,” Shaking his head with disdain, he made his experience with unstable criminals clear. “This kind of shit just don’t end well.”
Having also had more than his share of experience with malcontents off their meds, Jerome wasn’t ready to write the situation off so readily. “Let me guess. The guy was there to return the anarchist’s cookbook and things got out of hand?”
“Sounds about right,” nodded Stein. “The nut-job has been spouting antigovernment tripe since this thing started. Now he’s holding a room full of kids and their teachers who picked a helluva day for a field trip.” Not finished, he took another deep breath. “To top it all off it looks like the crazy bastard is wired with twenty pounds of homemade C-4.” His tone caustic, he shuddered at the thought of the tragedy that could play out at any moment.
“Wonderful. Is he holding a trigger?” Jerome shook his head and hoped for an answer that did not involve blowing up a library full of children.
Shaking his head, Stein knew this wouldn’t be the case for long if things went south. “Nothing out in the open, but you can bet he’s got one handy.”
Returning a nod in agreement, Jerome frowned and fixed his eyes on the deceptively quiet exterior of the library. “Have there been any demands?” He kept his voice low as instinct told him the likely answer well before the question was asked.
“None. He won’t even let our lead negotiator speak with him.” Stein’s voice automatically matched the Agent’s grim tone. It didn’t take a genius to know that an unwillingness to communicate meant that a decision had likely been made.
Beads of sweat formed on Agent Perkins’s brow, his dark complexion luring in the warmth of the sun. A skilled profiler, he already had more than enough information to put together a solid character sketch of the deranged man inside. “If this is someone who aims to make a statement, then he already has his forum, which is all people like that really want.” Standing perfectly still, he peered at the library intently as if seeing through the walls to the events inside.
“Forum?” asked the sergeant. “All he’s got are a couple dozen children and a couple of scared elementary-school teachers in there. Not exactly a group of political movers and shakers,” he said, failing to see the point.
Though well-equipped to coordinate one of the Bureau’s top Hostage Rescue Teams, adding children to the equation always added a level of stress that Jerome had never gotten used to. “If this guy’s an antigovernment fanatic, then who better to spout his theories to than a room full of fresh, young minds that have yet to form political opinions?” he explained, his eyes shifting back and forth as a frightening profile began to take shape in his mind. “Heaven help us if crazies like this ever get real exposure. We’ll never hear the end of it.” Convinced of the psychological make-up of their quarry, Jerome made the move from theoretical to practical. “If he’s using a timed trigger, we can’t afford to wait any longer. Let me speak with Beck.” He held his hand out as Stein gave over his hand-held radio.
The radio squealed to life when Agent Perkins squeezed the push-to-talk button. “Officer Beck, Do you have a copy? This is Special Agent Perkins coordinating HRT efforts. Are you able to respond? Over.” He spoke following radio protocol, and released the button.
“—en four Agent Perkins, I hear you loud and clear. Over,” replied Beck, his response ringing back through light static.
The sound of the veteran officer’s calm voice was a good sign “Ten four, Good to hear you officer. What’s the situation? Over.”
“—ell let’s see. We have a librarian who is older than Grandma Moses, two teachers, and twenty-three fourth graders listening to a wannabe Charles Manson bitch about his property taxes. How are things with you? Over.” Coping with the tension in his own unique way, Jack’s jovial tone only partially hid his deep concern.
Grinning, Agent Perkins instantly recognizing the hallmarks of a cop who was no stranger to high-pressure situations. “Ten four Beck, We’ve got the perimeter secured, but spotters report no clear view of the inside. Give us an idea of where we need to be looking. Over.” He was certain the officer had already cased the area completely.
“—orced everyone to an area with tall bookshelves on three sides, you won’t see him from the outside very easily. He can see the front doors and two of the side entrances. The room looks pretty well locked down from what I can tell. Over.” Even through the static, Jack’s frustration was palpable.
Placing random items from his pockets on the corners of the blueprints to keep them from constantly rolling back up, Jerome looked the documents over. “Is anyone injured? Over.” He moved his free hand over the floor plan and found the exits Beck had mentioned.
“—egative, no injuries at this point. He’s been allowing one of the teachers to take small groups of children to the bathroom, but he’s also been keeping a close watch on—” Officer Beck’s transmission ended abruptly, silence filling the air.
Casting a worried glance at Stein, Jerome checked the frequency knob to make sure the issue was not on his end before again speaking into the radio. “Officer Beck? Jack, are you alright? Please respond if you’re able. Over,” he pleaded, his mouth beginning to feel dry. If an officer were to be discovered inside, the situation would likely end very badly for all involved.
After a few tense moments of empty air, Officer Beck’s hushed voice broke the tense silence. “—orry sir. Thought he made my position so I went dark for a few ticks. Over.”
Sharing a relieved glance with the sergeant, Jerome found himself following Jack’s lead by speaking more softly into the walkie. “That’s alright, Officer. Is your location secure?”
“—en four sir, but I’m not in position to take a poke with my sidearm. There’s too many collateral targets from where I sit. Something tells me it won’t take much for this guy to make a move. Over.” Even with the more cautious volume, his certainty was easy to detect.
Eyes narrowed thoughtfully as Jerome considered his assets. “What’s the negotiator’s current position?” Ignoring a sideways glance from Sergeant Stein, he leaned closer the walkie talkie so he wouldn’t miss a single detail.
“—f you mean the rook, he’s waiting it out behind one of the larger bookshelves. Ground level. Same as the mad hatter. I’m at the top of a large set of stairs, looking down at him. Been communicating with hand signals. Over.”
A raised eyebrow indicated a ray of optimism in Jerome’s expression. “Does he have a weapon? Over.”
“—egative. No off-duty piece. Trainees aren’t allowed under department policy. Over.” There was an easy-to-detect air of disappointment in the officer’s inflection.
Shoulders sagged slightly as Jerome realized that the officers inside the library were in no position to attempt a rescue. He moved his tongue under his lips along the front of his teeth as he mulled the situation. Despite all of the pieces spread about the board, there didn’t appear to be any clear moves left open. Abruptly from over his shoulder came a woman’s voice, derailing his train of thought.
“My squad is prepped and ready for orders, sir.”
Recognizing the crisp, eager tones, Jerome turned to greet the eager squad leader of the hostage rescue team. “Glad you could make it, Agent Kirkpatrick. It seems like I need your services more and more lately.” Handing the radio to Sergeant Stein, he put his hands behind his back and visually inspected the darkly dressed agents’ battle gear like a general preparing for war. “I trust your team has everything they need?” he asked, raising an eyebrow expectantly.
Agent Kirkpatrick lifted her chin slightly with pride. “Yes, of course, sir. My men are locked, loaded and ready to roll.” Her emerald-green eyes flashed in anticipation.
The rest of the team stood eagerly at attention behind her.
“I appreciate your readiness, but let’s slow that roll for the time being. I’d like the sergeant to brief you on the situation first,” offered Jerome, turning to introduce the sergeant.
Like a racehorse waiting impatiently for the start gate to open, Agent Kirkpatrick took an uneasy step forward. “Sir, with all due respect, we were monitoring your frequency all the way here. We know the situation and general location of all players. You just need to give the order while there’s still time.”
The confidence one gets from being well-trained was no mystery to Jerome, but thanks to the school of hard knocks, neither was overconfidence. “Keep monitoring then, but understand that I’ll send you in only if I need to. I’ve got no intention of making a bad situation worse than it has to be.” He maintained eye contact with his eager agent, even as he addressed Sargent Stein. “Have one of your officers show the rescue team to the south delivery entrance,” he said, pointing toward the far west end of the library.
“That won’t be necessary sir.” Agent Kirkpatrick shook her head, allowing a shock of hair to escape from under her helmet that had been hiding her fiery orange locks. “We studied the blueprints on the way here as well.” Clearly annoyed, she tucked the unruly curl back in place.
Tilting his head down slightly, Jerome’s brow furrowed with displeasure. “I’ve zero doubt that you’re prepared, Agent. I also doubt you’ve forgotten seeing my face during your training.” Pausing momentarily to let the reminder of his position in the pecking order sink in, Jerome continued. “I decide what is or is not necessary. Do I make myself clear?”
Sequence 77 Page 1