by Bobby Akart
In the coming weeks, Will learned a lot about perceptions and political correctness in America. He was unfamiliar with the political use of the word trigger, a word he’d always associated with a part of his weapon. In today’s social climate, a trigger, or trigger warning, included a word that might offend someone’s political sensibilities, as in matters of sex or race.
Likewise, the newly defined term dog-whistle was applied to Will’s statement. According to some in America, a dog-whistle involved the use of a term that might mean one thing to the general population, but would have an offensive, different meaning for a targeted subgroup based upon race or sex.
Will’s intent didn’t matter as the forty-year-old white male, in a pressure-packed environment, likened the out-of-control, unruly youths to acting like primitive, uncivilized humans. The term was immediately assumed to be used in a racist manner, and the lives of the Hightower family were turned upside down.
The media headlines in Philadelphia and certain cable news networks made little mention of the reason Philly SWAT was called to the scene that night. They said nothing about the fact the unruly crowd refused to heed the officer’s warnings or obey their orders to disperse from the violent, active-shooter scene.
The entire conversation centered around Will’s use of the word savages, and it was declared to be indicative of the way law enforcement throughout the nation treated the black community.
Will was placed on administrative leave during the investigation. The paid leave worked out to the family’s benefit, as he was needed at home to deal with the repercussions of the media firestorm.
His kids were physically attacked at school. His home and car were vandalized on several occasions. Police protection was refused to them, under the circumstances. But his wife found police protection from another source, Will’s ex-partner, Frankie.
The affair started during the constant media scrums, which occurred outside their home. Anytime a glimpse of a family member was seen by the reporters, they rushed toward the house with cameras rolling and microphones at the ready.
For a time, Karen was the only member of the Hightower family who left the house to ostensibly run errands and do grocery shopping. One evening, as the family gathered to eat dinner in front of the television and watch the nightly news, a report came on that shook everyone to their core.
Earlier that day, a reporter had followed Karen, who had discreetly entered a nearby hotel room with Frankie. They filmed her exiting later, adjusting and buttoning her blouse as she gave a long kiss to a shirtless Frankie.
Karen scrambled for the remote to turn off the news report, but it was too late. Skylar began crying and ran into her room and slammed the door. Ethan ran out the back door and didn’t return the entire night. Will lost his mind.
He and Karen screamed at one another for an hour. She blamed his actions on that evening in Fairhill for forcing her into the arms of another man. He defended himself on the basis that how could his utterance of one word lead her to Frankie, his partner, and an illicit affair.
The argument became so heated that the prying media called the police to report a domestic dispute. When the patrol cars arrived, the cameras were rolling when Will was walked out of the house and taken away, not under arrest, but as a way to diffuse the situation.
The resulting divorce was very public, and an emotionally defeated Will gave his wife and kids everything he could to begin the healing process. His wife healed in the arms of her new boyfriend. His son never healed and obviously continued to hold a strong resentment against his father, whom he blamed for the family falling apart. His daughter was the most forgiving of the Hightower family, as Will would never forgive himself for the inartful use of a single word—savages.
“Daddy?” Skylar pulled down his arm to bring him back into the present. “Are we gonna go to the car?”
Will snapped out of it, looked down at his daughter, and smiled. “Yeah, baby girl. You guys have a concert to see.”
Will led the way toward the group, who just now noticed the three of them.
“Excuse us,” said Will as he pulled Skylar a little closer to him. He wanted to avoid confrontation.
“There ain’t no excuse!” shouted one of the teens, drawing laughter from his friends.
Will managed a smile, then reminded himself that this was Atlanta and these kids didn’t know who he was or what had happened up East. Without saying another word, he stood a little taller so his security uniform could be seen. With his right arm, he eased his hand over the stun gun that, when holstered, resembled a Glock firearm in the diminished light. The subtle move was immediately noticed by two of the teens.
“Hey, dude’s packin’!”
“Dayum, look at Clint Eastwood!”
“Good evening, gentlemen,” said Will in his most polite voice, but through gritted teeth. “Thanks for letting us through.”
Like Moses parting the Red Sea, the boys spread apart and stood against the concrete railing of the walkway, allowing the Hightowers to pass without incident. Once in the parking garage, Will exhaled, letting out a sigh of relief. That evening at Fairhill Square would forever live in his mind.
Proud of himself, Will unlocked his truck and loaded the kids inside. As he was about to close the passenger-side door where Ethan sat, his son couldn’t help but get in one last dig.
“See, Dad, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked sarcastically.
Will hesitated, allowing his son’s words to hang in the air for a moment. He sighed and gently shut the door without answering—heartbroken.
Chapter 17
Mercedes-Benz Stadium
Atlanta, Georgia
During the ride to the stadium, Will turned the conversation toward school. The kids had been kept out of school for the first four months during the media uproar, hoping the unwanted attention would die down by the Christmas break. The media finally left them alone, but now Skylar, who was in fifth grade, and Ethan, who was in high school, had to face the taunts of their fellow classmates and the harsh scrutiny of their teachers.
For the remainder of the school year, the challenge of making up schoolwork coupled with the emotional attacks took their toll. By the next summer, Skylar had become withdrawn and Ethan started to act out. He began hanging out with high-school-age kids and frequently came home after school smelling of alcohol.
Meanwhile, Will had moved to Atlanta to draw the media attention away from the family at a time when the kids really needed a father figure in their lives. Karen, to her credit, didn’t rush into marriage with his ex-partner, but she certainly didn’t hesitate to flaunt their relationship, including at home. Frequent sleepovers confirmed to the kids that their father was out of their lives and that any hope of reconciliation with their mother was out of the question.
Will tried to convince Karen to let the kids live with him in Atlanta. He knew he never had a chance in front of a judge. He hoped to play on her newfound freedom and offered to relieve her of the burden of raising kids. For Skylar and Ethan, a change of scenery and a new school, far away from the media-driven drama, was Will’s best solution to save them from the emotional agony.
It didn’t work, and instead, Karen doubled down on her pressure to make Will pay higher child support and on time. The postdivorce battles continued between them, as they often do, to the detriment of their children. A once loving family was now torn apart as the parents were at war with one another. Will hoped to reverse the trend this weekend by showing an extraordinary amount of love and attention to his daughter to reinforce their bond, and to indicate to Ethan that he respected him as a young man.
They pulled into the top level of the employee parking lot at the stadium and found one of the last available spots. Will had notified the head of stadium security that he’d be arriving late with his kids. Because he wasn’t originally on the schedule for that evening, they allowed it. In addition, Will received tickets and all-access passes for Ethan and Skylar, giving them premium s
eats and the ability to enjoy all of the interactive features of the stadium.
For his part, Will was hired for his expertise attained during training and working for Philly SWAT. Anytime there was a large gathering at the stadium, coupled with alcohol being served, it was a recipe for trouble. The security team was able to set aside his past and hire Will for his ability to help them keep their facility safe for visitors during the myriad of events held at the stadium.
To assist them further, he’d undergone additional training in counterterrorism activities. He was to keep a watchful eye out for anything out of the ordinary and be prepared to work with Atlanta SWAT personnel to diffuse any potential mass-casualty event. With over seventy thousand New Year’s revelers descending upon the stadium for a high-energy concert, Will expected to have his hands full.
After they entered through the employee entrance, Will pulled Ethan and Skylar aside and gave them instructions. He placed lanyards over their heads that contained laminated tickets and displayed their all-access pass to any ushers or security personnel.
“I’ve got you guys club-level seats at the top of section C111. This gives you easy access to the restrooms and food services. With this pass, you can visit some of the specialty areas where you can watch different camera angles of the concert, but I’d prefer you stay in your seats where I can find you.”
“Okay, Daddy,” said Skylar. “Where will you be?”
Will bent over slightly and patted his daughter on the head. “Baby girl, I’ll be all over this place, making sure people behave. But I have my cell phone, of course, and if you need something, send me a text. Don’t try to call because, as you can hear, this place gets really loud when the performers are onstage.” The opening act for Beyoncé and Jay-Z was onstage, and the music reverberated throughout the stadium.
“Um, Dad, can we have some money?” asked Ethan.
Will smiled and reached into his pocket to retrieve all of his cash, a little over eighty dollars. “This should get you both something to eat and a souvenir tee shirt or something.”
“Yeah, thanks,” said Ethan, a young man of few words unless something was on his mind.
Will turned to his son and placed his hands on his shoulders. “Son, I’m counting on you to take care of your sister. There’s a lot of people here and it’s New Year’s Eve. You know what that means. It’s the one night of the year when people get stupid drunk and do stupid things. I don’t want you guys to get caught up in the madness, okay?”
“Sure, Dad.”
Will smiled and nodded. “Now, I want you two to stick together, stay in your seats for the concert, and text me if you need anything. When the concert is over, I’ll make my way to your seats and find you.”
“Okay, Dad, we’ve got it,” said Ethan.
Ethan wrapped his hand under Skylar’s arm and began to lead her away when Will shouted after them, “No matter what, stay off the concert floor!”
Neither child acknowledged his admonition.
Chapter 18
Hyatt Centric Times Square
Bar 54
New York City
New York City was known as a culinary adventure with cuisines from around the world to tempt a visitor’s palette. On the top floor of the Hyatt Centric at Times Square was one of the trendiest restaurants on Broadway—Bar 54. Known for its handcrafted cocktails, gourmet appetizer-style meals, and breathtaking river-to-river views stretching from the Chrysler Building to lower Manhattan, the tallest rooftop bar in Times Square was an especially difficult reservation to obtain on New Year’s Eve, but the Sheltons had theirs.
Tom and Donna enjoyed a glass of champagne with their dinner of Chateaubriand-for-two. The king of steaks was wonderfully complimented with smoked mushrooms, fingerling potatoes, and a sauce made with smoked peppercorns, something Tom was sure would aggravate his hiatal hernia at some point.
Dinner was enjoyable and lasted well into the nine o’clock hour when the party guests began to arrive. After their table was cleared, Tom paid the bill, and the couple was about to leave when their server encouraged them to take a look at Times Square from Bar 54’s observation deck.
The server warned them it would be cold, especially with the increased wind on the fifty-fourth floor, but he assured them they’d never forget it. To top off their fantastic meal, he also brought each of them a glass of Cristal champagne. Tom and Donna thanked him and braved the elements as they moseyed into the outdoor lounge.
A cold breeze immediately blew across the platform, causing some of the partiers to shriek and then giggle. Donna took Tom by the hand and led him past the early arrivals to the gala affair and scooted behind the outdoor seating so they could look over the railing. Just a few blocks away, the famous ball sat atop One Times Square, glistening with its combination of lights and crystals, awaiting its sixty-second moment of being the center of attention.
“Tom, this is incredible!” Donna had to raise her voice slightly to overcome the wind and the noisy group of four women who were standing nearby. They were clearly drunk, and she doubted they’d make it to midnight in their condition. She leaned in to Tom’s ear and whispered, “That bunch is four fingers into a jug of wine.”
Tom chuckled and smiled. “This is the one day of the year everybody seems to let their hair down, right?”
“I guess so,” she replied sarcastically. Donna glanced back at them and frowned. They were her daughters’ age but were completely different people. Her girls proudly wore the uniforms of the United States military. These partygoers wore fancy dresses beneath equally fancy coats, living in the moment.
The women were waiting to be seated inside one of the two giant bubbles, as they were called by Bar 54. Created especially for cold-weather dining, the bubble-like igloos were inflatable plastic domes, which provided seating for eight. From inside, a guest’s view was somewhat distorted, but it was a way to withstand the elements on a night that was becoming increasingly colder.
Donna turned her attention back to the scene below. Live music was playing on the stages, which dotted the streets around Times Square. Nivea had provided large hats and foam wands in their signature color to most of the revelers, who repeatedly waved them, to the delight of some Madison Avenue advertising firm and their clients.
She took photos and videos, which she’d promised to send to the girls. She also asked one of the nearby servers to take a picture of the two of them with the ball in the background. The loving couple hugged and kissed as they took in the moment. Then Donna took one more look at the New Year’s Eve party that was unfolding in Times Square.
“Tom, you’ve done so much to make this trip happen. You know, it’s fulfilled one of my lifelong dreams.”
“I know, dear, and it’s long overdue. These types of things are not my usual thing, but I’m glad we came.”
Donna leaned in to Tom and hugged him. Then she stood on her toes and whispered in his ear, “Would you consider indulging your wife with one more favor?”
Tom began to laugh. “Donna, I may be too old for that.”
She swatted him. “I know for a fact that you’re not too old for that, Tom Shelton, but that’s not what I’m referring to.”
“Okay, what can I do for you, Mrs. Shelton? I am at your service.”
Donna hesitated; then she popped the question. “Take me down there. You know, into the crowd. I want to feel the energy and excitement of experiencing the ball drop.”
Tom thought for a moment and scowled. He’d do anything to make his wife happy. “Honey, I don’t know. I mean, there are so many—”
Donna pouted and looked into her husband’s eyes. “Come on, Tom, please. I know it will be a hassle until we get used to it. But, listen, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain, right?”
Tom looked skyward, and a big, fat flake landed on the bridge of his nose. The Sheltons burst out into laughter, drawing looks from the rooftop crowd at Bar 54. How could he say no?
Chapter 19
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br /> Union Oil Company of California
Offshore Oil Platform, Lease Block 916
The Gulf of Mexico
“Deliver this gentleman to the destination. Once the mission is complete, leave no trace behind and head to the extraction point. Understand?”
“Yeah, but what’s the target?” asked his partner.
“Need to know, gentlemen. Get strapped in. We’ve got a fifty-minute flight, and then you’re on your own. Prepare your weapons, inspect the contents of your dossiers, and do your jobs.”
For the next forty-five minutes, the operatives studied the maps provided and the location where the operation was to take place. Neither of them had been on an oil rig before, so they took time to study the images and discuss potential hazards. Even though the limited intelligence they’d been provided indicated the offshore platform was unmanned, their instructions were clear. Eliminate any threats, or witnesses, as the situation required.
“Five minutes out. Prepare for deployment.”
He and his partner were ready. They’d checked their weapons and adjusted the chest rigs they were supplied. Attempts to engage the third man on the team proved to be fruitless. He was intense and rarely made eye contact. Efforts to inquire about the nature of the target or the type of weapon to be used were rebuffed with silence.
The Lakota helicopter hovered over the water and the copilot turned to the operatives. He gave them the signal to release the Zodiac, and with the quick flip of a latch, the straps loosened. The helicopter gained a few feet in altitude as it was freed of the additional weight. The Zodiac spun slightly as it floated to the turbulent waters below.