“Why have you called this conference?” the anchor from Channel 4 asked.
“That will become clear shortly. The handouts you’ve been given detail events which have transpired in the last few days. There’s also detailed proof of a conspiracy which we uncovered. Basically, a group of individuals manipulated the computer code we provide to banks, domestic and abroad. The manipulated code, very much like a virus, will divert money from accounts randomly and eventually reroute to their own offshore accounts.”
“What is Allied’s official position on this?” one reporter asked.
“I’m not sure since I am not Allied’s spokesperson. I know our legal department has made at least one phone call to one of the targeted banks.” Robert took a deep breath, knowing he was violating the company’s no comment policy. Although, he was much more into the weeds than mere commenting, so he figured it didn’t really matter.
“What is your position with Allied?” another reporter shot off.
“Senior Programmer Analyst. Tomorrow will be anyone’s guess.”
There was some laughter among the group.
Robert continued. “There are conditions to this unique opportunity. First, Kyle Randall’s face cannot appear on any video footage or photograph. If you cannot agree to this, then please leave now.” Robert waited for a moment, but no one moved. “Good. Second, it would be great if you didn’t mention my name. Last, there will be a female FBI agent in the footage you will see on the monitor. Her identity, even her name, if mentioned, must not be aired or printed.”
“Why not?” a voice from the crowd yelled.
“If it’s not obvious enough, for their own protection due to their level of involvement. This is not a request. Their faces will not appear in any way outside of this room. The last stipulation is to leave Beth Duncan and her family alone. They’ve been through enough already. Is everyone in agreement?”
The reporters and photographers looked around at one another, but no one said a word or moved from the spots they had claimed for themselves.
“Good,” Robert said. “What you see on the monitor to the right is a hidden camera inside a hotel room across the street at the Pyramid. If everything goes as planned, FBI agents and police officers will enter the room shortly, along with Mr. Randall, in anticipation of apprehending the gunmen involved in Charlie’s killing, as well as the those behind the conspiracy.”
The camera personnel pointed their lenses to the monitor, zooming in and calibrating the image.
A question rang out from the back. “How does the FBI know the perpetrators will be there?”
“It’s on good authority that they’re en route as we speak, believing Mr. Randall is alone in the hotel room.”
“And what do the FBI think of us watching all this?” someone in the front asked.
Robert smiled. “The FBI is unaware of our presence.”
More smiles appeared in the crowd.
“If everything goes as expected, arrests will be made within the hour. The agents are currently on the eighth floor, as you can clearly see on the monitor to the left. Once the FBI and police officers leave the room, you will have a chance to intercept them as they exit the hotel.”
“And what do you and Mr. Randall get out of all this Press coverage?” someone asked.
Robert stared into the lady’s eyes who asked the question. He had seen her on the news before, but she looked different in person, standing only a few feet away from him. “A chance to resume our lives again. A chance to live to see the new year.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“Your girl’s not going to call,” Carmen said as they walked into the lobby of the Pyramid.
“Something must have come up, but I guarantee she did it,” Kyle said. “Trust me.”
Carmen led the way into the lobby, Kyle by her side along with six FBI agents who had been waiting when they arrived at the hotel. One of the agents carried a large bundle under his arm, covered by a fifty-gallon lawn-and-leaf bag. As they stepped through the front doors, a young man wearing a gold tag that read ASSISTANT MGR. rushed ahead to block their way.
“May I help you? Is there a problem?”
Carmen didn’t miss a step as she snapped her fingers at one of the FBI agents who took the man aside, heading for the registration counter. She quickly scanned the area. “Eric, you stay here to coordinate. When I signal you on the radio, you may have to move fast. These guys had their men placed strategically on the crest, and they’ll likely do the same here, either in the restaurant or outside. Cory, find the manager and get a key to the adjoining suite, 822 I believe. If it’s occupied, get the manager to relocate them, at least temporarily, then meet us in 824.”
Cory went to the door labeled MANAGER in gold lettering. Eric stayed behind.
“The rest of you follow me,” Carmen said, heading for the elevators.
People had stopped in their tracks to catch a glimpse of what was going on, which, Kyle thought, was nothing. At least not yet. Carmen seemed to be in her element since she was calling the shots, and Kyle didn’t mind. She appeared to handle it well, and no one questioned her authority, least of all him.
Kyle, Carmen, the agent carrying the bundle and the remaining agents entered the open elevator, Kyle pushing the number eight on the panel. He worried that Rene hadn’t phoned, but didn’t want to concern Carmen. He was fairly certain Rene had done what he asked, but wondered why she had not called. He tried dialing her a few minutes before but it went straight to voicemail. Thoughts of Santiago grabbing her at work and bringing her along crossed his mind a couple of times in the last half-hour, but he was mostly convinced it was his nerves and overactive imagination. Rene would only be in their way, unless, of course, Santiago knew about the planned ambush and needed a hostage. When they got off the freeway, he had paged Robert a signal code of 911, so hopefully that aspect of the operation was well in hand. He wondered if any reporters had showed at all.
The doors opened and Carmen stepped out first, the others following behind in procession. She turned right, walked down the hall until the room came in view, pulled out her card key and carefully stepped in, her gun drawn. Kyle assumed it was possible that Santiago and his associates had arrived early and were lying in wait, but that wasn’t the case. If Rene followed the timetable, they wouldn’t have had the time to beat them to the hotel. The room was unoccupied.
“Over there,” Carmen said, pointing to the chair at the table. The agent holding the bundle unveiled a mannequin torso and set it in the chair. It looked great, except it didn’t have a head.
“Is there something wrong with this picture?” the agent said to no one in particular.
Carmen looked at the torso, then the officer, and then disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a small, plastic trash can. She went to the torso, turning the trash can upside down, and set it on top.
“I don’t know,” the agent said, “it doesn’t really look like Kyle.”
Carmen passed him a look before she disappeared into the bathroom once more, this time returning with two large bath towels. She draped one over the back of the torso and wrapped the other around the trashcan, spending the effort to make it look like someone who had just stepped out of the shower.
Kyle stepped back and inspected the work. “Looks okay,” he said, “but I don’t see any legs or feet. They might get suspicious.”
“Everyone’s a critic,” she mumbled, and repositioned the computer carrying case in front of the chair, giving it the appearance that Kyle’s feet rested on the other side.
“Not bad,” Kyle said.
“We don’t have much time,” Carmen mentioned, looking to the agent who had carried in the mannequin. “When Cory returns with the passkey to the other room, you and the others get behind that door.” She pointed to the corner where one of the connecting doors opened into the next suite. “I will send Cory out in the hall, out of sight, just in case they have anyone standing guard. He will also signal us as they approa
ch, so keep your radios low. I’ll be waiting in the bedroom.”
“What’s the cue?”
“When they start blowing holes in the mannequin, I’d say.”
“And if they don’t start firing?”
“Let’s wait three seconds after they burst in,” she said, “or until we hear gunshots, whichever comes first.”
“Sounds okay,” the agent agreed.
Cory appeared at the door, passkey in hand. Carmen took it, went out into the hall and opened the adjoining room. It was, in fact, empty and the warm air greeted her face immediately. Someone had left the heat turned high and the room was sweltering. Immediately to the right was the other side to the double door. She unbolted it and walked into their hotel room, apparently trying to figure the angle of attack.
“Okay, we have two doors to deal with that join these two suites. We’ll keep the door of the other room open, and the one on this side will be unlocked and slightly ajar. When it goes down, we want to move fast. Let’s try to not kill anyone, but don’t take chances either. We also don’t want them to signal anyone downstairs, so we must act quickly. Any questions?”
No one had any.
“Assume your positions,” she said.
The agents went into the other room and pulled the door nearly closed. Carmen walked out into the hall with Cory and gave him a rundown of where to stand and when to call. Kyle stood in the small living area and glanced over at the television. On top, poised innocently, was the black digital pager. No one else had noticed, or if they had, it looked so common they didn’t think twice about it. He thought of Robert across the street and wondered how many reporters had showed up and were looking at the monitor, possibly looking at him. He pulled his cell phone out again and tried Rene. After several rings it went to voicemail.
Carmen came back in the room, closed and locked the door behind her, and walked up to Kyle. “Are you ready?”
“I guess so. I still haven’t heard from Rene, I just tried her but no answer. She’ll make the call.”
“We’ll know soon enough,” Carmen assured, grabbing Kyle by the hand and ushering him into the bedroom. “We better get out of the line of sight.”
The bedroom itself was spacious, with one king size bed against the far wall, two end tables on either side with stylish lamps resting on each. To the right was a door leading into the bathroom, and to the left, beside the south side of the bed, was another small desk with postcards sitting on top. A large window was over the desk, the drapes open and light flooding in from the afternoon sun. The winter sun leaned low in the south casting rays of light across on the carpet. Carmen led Kyle to the corner wall near the window, next to the dresser, setting her walkie-talkie on top. She pulled her gun and ejected the clip, checked the number of remaining rounds, then slid it back inside with a loud click.
Carmen looked to Kyle. “You should go in the other room with the FBI agents and keep out of sight. Things might get messy here.”
Kyle shook his head. “No, I should stay with you.”
“It’s not a good idea, Kyle.”
“I’ll keep behind you, out of the way.”
Carmen thought for a moment, shaking her head. “It’s against my better judgement, but if anything goes wrong, dive behind the bed.”
Kyle nodded, leaning on the dresser. “Are you nervous?”
“Kinda,” she said, gazing into his eyes, her voice soft. “I’ve only been in this position a few times, waiting for something to go down. So far, I haven’t gotten used to it. You’d be surprised how boring a federal agent’s job can be at times.”
Kyle grinned. “And you would not be surprised how boring a computer programmer’s job can be pretty much all the time.”
Carmen smiled and laughed.
“Any regrets?” Kyle asked.
Carmen stepped aside and glanced into the living area, then returned to Kyle. “Regrets? Once in a while, I suppose, but not too often. You learn a lot about how things work, about the world, and you soon discover it isn’t all that pretty.”
“If you hadn’t joined the FBI, what would you have become?”
“Marine biologist,” she said quickly, keeping her voice low.
“Really?”
She nodded slowly, pondering before she answered. “Yeah. I love the ocean. The pay is fairly close to an FBI agent, well, special agent, believe it or not, but I thought it would be so cool studying marine life, going on research expeditions and diving in all kinds of locations. My dad loved the ocean too. I think he would have wanted me to pursue that instead of following in his footsteps.”
“There’s not much of an ocean around here,” Kyle pointed out with a bit of a smile. “There’s not much water around here, either, come to think of it.”
Carmen giggled. “I’ve noticed.”
“My dad took me deep sea fishing a long time ago, when I was ten years old,” Kyle told her. “We only went one time, but it was amazing. When we got on the boat, everyone put a few dollars in a big jar. The person that caught the biggest fish would get all the money.”
“Did you win?” Carmen asked.
Kyle shook his head. “Almost. I caught the second biggest fish. Everyone’s line got tangled together and it took over half an hour to figure out who had what fish. But it was fun.”
“My dad…” Carmen started, but was cut short.
The voice of Cory Churchman crackled to life over the radio. “They’re on their way.”
Kyle’s heart jumped when he heard the words. He had been so caught up chatting with her that he forgot, for a second, why they were there and what was about to happen. Carmen slowly switched the gun to her left hand, raising her right forefinger to her lips, silently motioning Kyle not to make a sound, then grasped the gun with both hands, pointed up. She inched closer to where she could clearly see the dummy at the table. Kyle watched and listened as she remained still.
His breathing increased rapidly, his heartbeat matching each breath. He moved closer, careful not to crowd her in case she had to move back. There was a jiggling at the hotel room door, faint, but audible, followed by a long pause. It was so quiet Kyle could hear his own breathing. A loud crash followed by the swinging open of the hotel door caused him to jump back involuntary, then a second crash in the wake of the first as it slammed against the adjoining door where the feds were waiting in the other room. Kyle held his breath, anticipating gunfire, but it didn’t come. Instead, he heard a ringing inside his coat pocket as his cell phone went off. Carmen snapped her head back, her face contorted, as Kyle fumbled the phone free from his jacket. He then heard the quick reports of a gun with a silencer being fired. The dummy stayed where it was, untouched, as bullets flew through the wall. It wasn’t one shot, but several, all in a row. The first over Carmen’s head, a small cloud of drywall dust following in its wake, then a second fired between them, the third directly in front of his face and he could hear and feel the bullet as it whizzed by, embedding itself in the far wall just above the bed. Someone was shooting blindly since they couldn’t be seen, just aiming in the direction of the sound of Kyle’s cell phone.
Carmen turned and dove for Kyle who was still fumbling the ringing cell phone. She slammed against his chest and they both fell to the floor, the phone flying out of his hand and hitting the wall, finally going silent. More bullets zipped over their bodies, now covered in a fine, white powder. Carmen lay on top of Kyle, clutching the gun in her right hand, her left arm covering his head.
They both managed to look at each other, then looked up, toward the entrance of the bedroom. Two men emerged from the living area, stepping inside the room near the bathroom door, each with a gun gripped in his hand. One of the faces was familiar. It was the one who called himself Harry. The other, Kyle guessed, was Santiago. Kyle figured they would send expendables to do their dirty work. Then again, what threat were a computer programmer and his girlfriend?
Kyle saw satisfaction on Harry’s face as their eyes met. Santiago raised his gun
slowly, toward Kyle, a confident grin forming across his lips. Kyle froze, not knowing what to do next. As Santiago’s aim was about complete, an explosion rang out from the other room. The left side of Santiago’s body turned bright red, blood spraying across the carpet. His body was propelled against Harry’s, sending them both to the floor. Harry’s smile had evaporated as did his gun when it flew from his fingers and under the bed. His arms flailed wildly trying to regain his balance, desperately attempting to scramble to his feet. Cory appeared from beyond the wall, his gun trained on Harry who lay motionless on the carpet, staring up at Cory in total disbelief.
“Are you guys okay?” Cory asked, keeping his gaze on Harry.
Carmen nodded, staggered to her feet and made her way to her walkie-talkie. She instructed Eric who was stationed in the lobby to look for anything and anyone suspicious. She heard screams and cries in the background, knowing the sound of gunshots must have cut into happy hour.
Carmen turned to Kyle who was still laying on the floor, apparently in shock. “Are you okay?”
Kyle nodded slowly, rose to his feet and wiped chalk dust off his clothes. “I think so.”
The other officer rolled Santiago’s body over, his head lolling back and forth as his face stared up at the ceiling with cold, dead eyes. Kyle caught a glimpse of him and started to feel sick to his stomach. It seemed so unreal. The officer put his finger to Santiago’s neck, then shook his head as he gazed up at Carmen. The officer then forced Harry to his feet, quickly cuffing him and reciting the requisite Miranda rights.
Kyle looked over at Harry, a man in his late forties or even early fifties, looking defeated, dazed and confused – a stark contrast to the confident criminal who had threatened him earlier that morning. His gaze finally drifted to Kyle and their eyes locked.
“You think it’s over, don’t you kid?” A smile seemed to emerge from the ashes.
“Whadda ya’ mean?” Kyle said, still light-headed by the events of the last 30 seconds.
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