The Professionals

by Owen Laukkanen

  Tiffany wrenched away from Pender’s arms, wriggling free, and he watched as she struggled to drag the bed back from the door. Sawyer reached to hold her back, but Pender intercepted him. “Let her go,” he said. “We’re better off without her.”

  “Hell, no,” Sawyer said. “She’s not walking out of here and getting off scot-free. No way, boss.”

  Pender held him back, struggling against his friend as Tiffany dragged the bed back from the door. She turned the knob and had the door halfway open when Sawyer broke free from Pender.

  “Get back here,” he said, dodging Pender and climbing over the bed after Tiffany. He grabbed her as she crossed the threshold, and they fought for a moment in the police spotlight. Sawyer had his hand on Tiffany’s arm, yelling something Pender couldn’t make out, and she was trying to get loose of his grip. But Sawyer held tight, and he was dragging her back to the room when Pender heard the shot.

  Sawyer staggered back, and Tiffany broke free and disappeared out into the parking lot. Sawyer leaned against the door frame, a red rose starting to blossom on the back of his shirt. Pender grabbed his friend and pulled him inside the room and slammed the door behind him. He took Sawyer to Cardinal’s bed and told the hostage move, and Cardinal scrambled to his feet as Pender laid Sawyer down.

  The big guy was quiet, his eyes wide and his face pale, his hands feeling at the entry wound as the blood poured out of him. Pender locked the front door and pushed the bed back into place, and then he walked back to Sawyer’s bed and stood with the TEC-9, listening to his friend strain to breathe and waiting for the SWAT team to break through the door.

  eighty-five

  Stevens heard the gunshot and then the gasp from the crowd a moment later. He ran around the side of the FBI van just in time to see Tiffany Prentice wrench away from the big guy and make a dash for the line of police cars. Then he saw Windermere pushing angrily through the crowd toward the van, where Wellwood stood yelling something into his headset. Stevens flagged a Grosse Pointe uniform and stood him on guard with Marie McAllister and then pushed his own way to the van.

  Windermere collared Wellwood and shoved him, hard, against the side of the van. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “My guys had a shot,” Wellwood told her. “They had to take it.”

  “Who the hell told them they could shoot?”

  Wellwood just stared at her.

  “Great,” said Windermere. “Now there’s a pissed-off kid in there with a machine gun, and God knows what he’s going to do. You’ve fucked up our entire situation.”

  Windermere looked ready to punch the big tactical officer. Stevens stepped forward before she decided to do it. “That was a terrible call,” he told Wellwood. “There’s a chain of command here and you broke it. But we still have a hostage inside, and as long as he’s alive we’ve still got a situation. So let’s calm that kid down, all right?”

  “I’m going to get him on the phone,” said Windermere. “We gotta get him back on our side.”

  She disappeared inside the command van just as Detective Landry walked up with Tiffany Prentice beside him, handcuffed and squirming. “Let me go, you bastard,” she said. “Those guys made me do it, I swear.”

  Landry raised an eyebrow in Stevens’s direction. “This one claims she was a hostage.”

  The girl gave Stevens a scared-kitten look through her mess of blond hair. He wanted to laugh in her face. “She’s no hostage,” he said. “Get Hall to book her and take her downtown.”

  The girl blinked and her scared look disappeared. “This is bullshit,” she said, kicking at Landry. “My dad will have your ass for this. That’s a promise.”

  Stevens watched Landry frog-march the girl to his unmarked, and then he climbed back into the command van where Windermere was waiting, staring at a bank of monitors. She reached for a phone and held out the receiver as Stevens walked in. “Connecting you to Pender’s room,” she said.

  Stevens took the phone and held it to his ear. There was a click and then the electronic ringing as he waited for Pender to decide what to do. The kid was freaking out, Stevens knew. Any mistakes now could blow the whole scenario—assuming it wasn’t already blown.

  The ringing stopped, and there was silence. Stevens glanced at Windermere, who nodded quickly. “Arthur?” he said. “It’s Agent Stevens.”

  There was no answer. No sound whatsoever. Windermere motioned for him to keep talking.

  “Arthur,” said Stevens. “We didn’t order that shot. Somebody screwed up, and we’ll make sure they pay for it, all right? We just want to make sure you’re not thinking of doing anything rash right now.”

  Finally Pender spoke, and his voice was flat calm and deadly. “You’ve compromised your mission and lost my trust,” he said. “You put the life of the hostage needlessly in danger. And you’re warning me not to do anything rash?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Stevens. “We know we messed up. But we’re still committed to getting you out of there peacefully, all right?”

  Pender said nothing.

  “Arthur,” said Stevens. “We can still do business together. Right?”

  Another pause. Then Pender spoke again. “No more games,” he said. “You fuck up again, you will regret it.”

  He hung up the phone. Stevens hung up a second later. He was drenched in sweat, and his heart was pounding. He turned to Windermere. “We still got him.”

  Windermere exhaled. “Those meathead bastards,” she said. “I’ll have them working evidence lockers in Anchorage.”

  Stevens stood, walked to the door of the van. Across the parking lot, the spotlights lit up unit 23’s door like an alien tractor beam in an old B movie. “Where does this leave us?” he said. “Does he still walk away without McAllister?”

  Windermere shook her head. “He just saw his best friend get shot. No way he leaves without the girl.”

  “That means he’s not leaving,” said Stevens.

  “Means the hostage isn’t leaving, either.”

  Stevens rubbed his chin and stared at the motel door. “Not necessarily,” he said, turning back to face Windermere. “Call Hall. I have another idea.”

  eighty-six

  Pender stared down at Sawyer, watching his friend struggle to breathe, the gunshot wound a gaping hole. The big guy still hadn’t screamed, hadn’t said a word. He just lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling like he was waiting to die.

  Pender watched him. The commotion outside was just background noise now; he felt detached. Like he was watching himself on the television in some shitty action movie.

  He’d failed his friends. They’d put their faith in him, and he’d brought them to disaster. Mouse was dead, and Sawyer wasn’t far behind. He’d probably die in this motel room himself, and Marie would spend the rest of her life in jail. And it was all of it on his shoulders.

  Sawyer reached out and touched his arm, wheezing from the effort. Pender looked down into his eyes, and Sawyer forced a smile. “Now I know how Mouse felt,” he said. He rested his head back against the pillow. “Little bastard was tougher than he looked.”

  Pender said nothing. A professional would have walked, he thought. He watched Sawyer struggle to breathe and wondered how long it would take him to die.

  Cardinal sat in a chair in the corner of the room. He’d watched in silence since the FBI had shown up. Now he caught Pender’s eye. “It was never about the money, was it?” he said.

  Pender looked up at him. The man had relaxed into some kind of acceptance over the last few hours, and now he stared at Pender, unnervingly calm. Pender held his gaze. “What are you talking about?”

  “The ransom,” said Cardinal. “You never cared about it, did you?”

  “You think I kidnapped you for fun?”

  “You had your reasons. But money had nothing to do with it.”

  “You’re wrong,” said Pender. “I pulled jobs for the last two years saving up to retire. If the police hadn’t figured us out, we would still be
at work and I would have a couple years, tops, before I could get the hell off this continent and never work again. But we screwed up and they caught on and we ran out of money and needed one last score to make it stick. So here we are.”

  “No,” said Cardinal. “Here you are. If it was all about the money, you would be gone right now. You kidnapped me to get your girlfriend back, plain and simple, but you’re not getting her back and you know it. The FBI will let me die before they let her go.”

  Pender shrugged. “They know what we want. Whether or not they choose to comply is completely up to them.”

  “Yeah,” said Cardinal. “Let’s just say I’m not holding my breath.”

  Pender picked up the TEC-9 and walked over to Cardinal. “Hold your breath or don’t,” he said. “It makes no difference to me. Whatever happens to me—or you—that girl out there is not going to spend the rest of her life in jail. Understood?”

  Cardinal stared at Pender and then at the gun. He swallowed. “Yeah,” he said. “Fine. Understood.”

  eighty-seven

  No,” said Stevens. “It was my idea. I can’t let you take the risk.”

  They were standing in the command van, waiting on Agent Hall to come back with body armor. Women’s body armor.

  “You worry too much,” said Windermere. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Forget it. I’m not letting you walk in there like this.”

  Windermere walked over to him. She put her hands on his face and stared into his eyes. “You’re sweet,” she said. “And I appreciate it. But you have a family, Stevens.”

  “You have Mark.”

  “Forget about Mark. He’s probably found someone else already.”

  Stevens stared at her. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Windermere. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m leaving you the tough part. I just have to go in there and look helpless. You’ve gotta keep things moving out here.”

  “What if you get hurt?”

  She winked at him, then turned to Hall, just now returning with a Kevlar vest. “That’s what the armor’s for.”

  Hall handed her the gear, and the men watched her fit it over her blouse. When the vest was tight she pulled her coat over the top and posed. “What do you think?”

  Hall shook his head. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

  “Better me than Cardinal, right?” said Windermere. “Come on, guys. This is progress.”

  “Speaking of progress,” said Hall. “The Buffalo office came through with a name on that Amtrak drop. Guy named Rod Stirzaker.”

  Stevens stared at him, momentarily distracted. “Ben’s—”

  “Brother, yeah. Caught up to him in a basement with about a hundred grand worth of computers and printing equipment. Squealed like Deliverance when they caught him.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Gave up aliases, passport numbers, and credit card details for Pender and Sawyer. Then some clown told him his brother got shot and the kid started crying and clammed up. Wouldn’t say another word.”

  “Well, hot damn,” said Windermere. “I guess our boys aren’t getting far even if they do get out of this shitstorm.” She smoothed her coat down over the vest and glanced at Stevens. “You ever shoot anyone, Stevens?”

  Stevens looked at her a moment. Then he nodded. “Just once,” he said. “In Duluth. Kid holed himself up in a convenience store with a shotgun.”

  “You kill him?”

  He nodded again. “He was a half second away from shooting the clerk.”

  Windermere watched him a second. “You’re going to have to shoot this guy,” she said. “Pender. Even if it means he shoots me.”

  “I’m not going to put you in danger,” he said.

  “Stevens.” She gave him a look. Then she leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Take the shot. Don’t let this bastard go.” She straightened and looked over at Hall. “You fellas ready? Let’s get the kid on the phone and get moving.”

  Hall moved over to the phone bank and started punching in numbers.

  Stevens stared at Windermere a moment. “I’ll get Marie,” he said finally. “Might be more useful if she plays the voice of reason.”

  Marie took the phone from Agent Hall’s hand and listened as the computer connected her to Arthur’s room. The phone rang for a few seconds, and then he picked up. “What?”

  “Arthur, it’s me.”

  “Marie,” he said. He paused. “Did you hear about Sawyer?”

  “I heard,” she said. “Arthur, this isn’t worth dying for. Both of us alive and in jail is better than one of us dead.”

  “Not if you’re free.”

  “I’m not going to be free,” she said. “Take the money and go.”

  “I’m not leaving without you,” he said. “I’m working on something. Is this what you’re calling about?”

  “No,” said Marie. She looked around the command van. Stevens nodded at her. “They want to trade hostages. Cardinal for an FBI agent, Windermere. They want to take Cardinal out of the picture.”

  Pender went silent. “Fine,” he said finally. “She comes in unarmed.”

  Marie glanced at Stevens, who nodded again. “Of course.”

  “You’ll check her yourself.”

  “I will.”

  “All right,” he said. “But I have conditions. Put one of the agents on the phone.” He paused. “I love you, Marie. No matter how this plays out.”

  “I know,” said Marie. “I love you, too. Be safe.”

  She passed the phone to Stevens and sank back in her chair, feeling like it was good-bye for good. Beside her, Stevens was talking to Arthur, and Marie picked up his spare headset, fumbling to hold it with her wrists still cuffed. Windermere glared at her, but she ignored the agent and listened in on Arthur’s conditions.

  “If we’re going to do this,” he was saying, “you’re going to have to earn it. You guys shot up my best friend. Don’t expect much of my trust.”

  “All due respect,” said Stevens. “Your best friend is a kidnapper and a murderer. He knew what he was getting into.”

  “If that’s the way you want to play it, I’ll send Sawyer out with Cardinal’s body. Then you guys can come and get me.”

  “All right, all right,” said Windermere, picking up her headset. “You’re both macho men. We believe it. Let’s hear your conditions, Arthur.”

  “Fine,” said Pender. “I want Cardinal’s plane to remain fueled and ready. I want Cardinal’s five million dollars transferred to a bank account of my choosing immediately. You get me the money, and we trade Cardinal for Windermere. Then we can fight over Marie.”

  “Okay,” said Windermere. “Anything else?”

  “I want food. I don’t care what it is, but Windermere’s going to eat it, too, so don’t poison it. When Windermere arrives, she’ll be unarmed. Marie will verify or there’s no deal. And when Cardinal comes out, he brings Sawyer out with him and your people give him medical treatment. Those are my conditions. Take them or leave them.”

  Windermere glanced at Stevens. “We can work with that,” Stevens told him.

  “Good,” said Pender. “Get a pen. Here’s where I want the money.” He listed overseas bank information. Stevens wrote it down and repeated it back.

  “Okay,” said Pender. “Send Windermere in with a wheelchair for Sawyer.”

  eighty-eight

  Pender hung up the phone. He turned back to Sawyer, who lay breathing weakly on the bed. “We don’t have to play it like this,” Pender said. “If you think you can hang on, I’ll keep you right here beside me. But I don’t want you dying in here.”

  Sawyer stared up at him for a long moment. “Let me go,” he said finally. “I’ll die if I stay here.”

  “They’ll put you in jail.”

  Sawyer nodded. “I know.”

  “I can still get you out of here. You just have to hold on.”

  Sawyer shook his head. “It was my fault, Pender. I’ll ta
ke the fall.”

  “We’re a team,” Pender told him. “It’s everyone’s fault.”

  “Let me just do this.” Sawyer reached for Pender’s hand. He took Pender’s fingers in his weak grip and held them. “For you and Marie. You bailed me out enough times. Let me do this.”

  Pender stared at his friend for a long moment. Christ, he thought. This is not how it’s supposed to go. Then the phone rang. Sawyer gripped his fingers one more time, and Pender straightened and picked up the phone. “Yeah.”

  “Arthur, it’s me. Windermere’s clean. No gun. I made sure.” She paused. “But she’s wearing a vest. I told them you wouldn’t like it, but they wouldn’t listen.”

  Pender swore. “I’ll deal with it. The money?”

  “It’s sent. The Imperial Luxembourg bank.”

  “Okay,” said Pender. “Thank you.”

  “They want to come in now, Arthur. Be careful.”

  “I’ll see you,” he said. He hung up the phone and walked over to Cardinal, keeping the gun trained with his left hand and untying the man’s wrists with his right. “Good news for you,” he told the hostage. “We’re getting you out of here.”

  Cardinal nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Pender said. Then he smiled. “When you make this into a movie, I hope you’ll give me more muscle definition.”

  Cardinal smiled back. “Whatever you want.”

  Pender pushed the man toward the door. “They’re going to come with a wheelchair,” he said. “You’re going to be my shield. We take the wheelchair into the room, put Sawyer in it, and you wheel him back out. Don’t look back. Understood?”

  Cardinal nodded.

  “All right,” said Pender. “Let’s move this bed.”

  Pender and Cardinal dragged the bed away from the door and then sat down to wait. A few minutes passed, and then somebody knocked on the door and Pender peered through the peephole to see Windermere on the other side with a wheelchair.

  Pender gestured for Cardinal to open the door and took up a position behind him. Cardinal unlocked it and swung it open, and immediately the noise of the night filled the room. The sweeping spotlight landed on the doorway, and Pender squinted out into the parking lot and saw the half ring of police cars and the officers behind, all staring down the barrels of their guns at him. He saw the command van and the crowd in the distance and the news helicopters hovering overhead, and he imagined he could see the snipers on the rooftop opposite, watching him through their scopes. He shivered and took a step backward. Then Cardinal took the wheelchair and they closed the door again.