Quicker

by Laurence Dahners

  Ell flicked on the safety and tossed the Berretta into the grass, putting up her hands and allowing herself to drop out of the zone. A moment later she and Jamal were surrounded by police with drawn weapons. One said, “Wait a minute, this is the Donsaii kid!”

  “Who!”

  “The girl that broke all the records in gymnastics yesterday!”

  They all stared at her a moment then several voices at once said, “Naw,” and “She’s just a look alike?” and “Why would she be out here?” and “She’s just a kid!”

  The first cop said, “No, that’s her all right. My daughter made me watch her over and over last night!” He turned to Ell, “What are you doing in this neighborhood? And carrying a weapon?”

  Ell stared at him and said, “As I reported over the net, the Team USA bus to the sports arena was hijacked. I escaped. The bus has just been driven down to the lowest level of the parking deck behind me.”

  The cops stared at her incredulously, then looked wildly about the area, exclaiming. Some seemed to believe her but others were doubtful in the extreme.

  Sounding calm, Ell said, “May I give you a feed of the hijacking from my AI?”

  More sirens were sounding in the distance as the first policeman nodded and Ell had Allan feed him her recording from the bus boarding to her escape out the window. She suppressed the feed of her stopping Jamal and especially of her shooting at the bus.

  Exclamations followed from the surrounding police then several of them got back into their vehicles and began slowly following the bus down into the lower levels of the parking deck. Jamal was handcuffed and he and Ell taken aside for questioning.

  More and more police arrived and a mobile command post pulled up with senior officers to direct the response.

  Second responders cordoned off the area.

  A SWAT team arrived and began poring over structural drawings of the deck they downloaded from the archives.

  Ell told her story over and over and repeatedly introduced Jamal as a “former member” of the terrorist team, now “seeking asylum and witness protection.” The rapid accumulation of huge numbers of law enforcement personnel astonished Ell who had no idea of the preparations made for terrorists at the Olympics. She kept expecting them to do something to rescue her friends and became more and more frustrated when no visible progress occurred.

  She was answering the same question about how she’d come into contact with Jamal for the ninth time when Allan said, “Ell, the terrorists are broadcasting now.”

  Ell immediately broke off her conversation and looked up at her HUD. She saw the Arab with the crooked nose who she’d seen shooting at her from the back of the bus. He stood in front of the camera with an excited look on his face. He’d removed his Olympic gear and donned a checked keffiyeh and a black garment that looked like a floor length shirt. In the background of the frame, Team USA athletes sat on the floor with their knees drawn up. Their AI headbands had been removed. After a moment she realized that their wrists were handcuffed beneath their knees in that position. While watching she sank to the floor and put her hands in the same position. It wasn’t difficult to bring her hands out from behind her knees to her front while clasped to one another as if handcuffed but it would certainly take precious moments if you were trying to do it quickly. Ell suspected that those less flexible than she was might find it impossible. No doubt it would quickly become uncomfortable. Ell picked out Phil and her teammates, noting with relief that they all seemed uninjured though many of the girls were sobbing. Phil looked angry.

  The man with the deformed nose looked off screen a moment, then squinted at the camera. Apparently realizing that it was on, he cleared his throat, “Allah Akbar! I am Hamid Asghar and my name is a name that you will remember and remember for a very, very long time.” His thick accent made his English difficult, but not impossible to understand. “In response to the treachery of Christians over the centuries, and in accordance with our war against the Great Satan America, we have captured these Olympic athletes and will kill them, one by one, until our demands are met!” He held up a finger, “Our first demand, return Ell Donsaii to us! You have one hour!”

  Because of the man’s accent, at first Ell didn’t parse what the demand had been, then ice washed over her. She fought to keep from going into the zone from her intense emotional reaction. The detective who’d been questioning her thought her deep breathing was a panic reaction to the possibility that they might turn her over to the terrorists and said, “Hey, hey. Don’t worry. There is no way anyone is turning you over to those animals.”

  He was startled by the force of her gaze when she turned back to him. “No, that is exactly what you need to do. Turn me over to them. Now!”

  The detective leaned back in his chair with raised eyebrows. “We are not going to turn the star of the Olympics over to terrorists!”

  “Broker a deal. Get them to let ten of the athletes go in order to have me. Ten lives for one would be a good deal.” Ell’s voice was uninflected but she rocked him further back in his chair with the intensity of her gaze.

  “NO! We’re done here. We’re sending you back to the stadium to compete.”

  “I, am, not, going!”

  Ell found herself being bundled into the back of a police car, in “protective custody” with two cops who had been detailed to deliver her back to the gymnastics arena. The policemen had not, however, been told to keep her prisoner, so at the next light she simply opened the door and got out, turning to trot back to the parking deck. The cop in the passenger seat leapt out to come after her while the other one turned the car around. When the cop caught up to her he said, “Now look here young lady!” and reached for her arm.

  She turned, deftly avoiding his hand, crossed her arms, stood with a wide based gait and stared at him with intense, intimidating green eyes. “What?! Am I under arrest? If so, please, make my crime known to me!”

  “Uh…”

  “I thought not.” She turned and continued down the street. When she arrived, she strode directly to the command post truck, easily dodged the hand of the cop detailed to keep civilians out and opened the door, stepping into the air conditioned interior, closing and locking the door behind her. Immediately the guard cop outside began twisting the knob, then knocking, first gently then more forcefully.

  Ell rapidly looked around at the stances and dynamics of the people inside the truck, to determine who was in charge. Feeling the lines of power radiating from a grizzly, gray haired man in the back of the room she watched him intently for a moment. He intermittently listened to others and barked orders at the people staring at the multiple screens in the front. One of the men was reporting to him, “No way we’re going to break into their hideout without casualties. It’s a damned fort! Eighteen inch concrete walls. Heavy gauge steel doors. If we used explosives strong enough to break in quickly, we would kill or injure many of the hostages. Other entry methods will be slow enough that the terrorists will be able kill most of the athletes with those assault weapons we saw in their broadcast.”

  Ell strode his way.

  He looked up at her, “Who is that?!”

  The man with his back to her turned in curiosity, then jerked around. It was the detective who’d had her bundled off!

  Ell strode up to the “Boss” as she’d labeled him in her mind, read his nametag and put out her hand, “Chief Bowers, I’m Ell Donsaii, the person that the terrorists are demanding. Trade me for as big a group of the other athletes as you can.”

  The chief barked a laugh and the detective reached out to grab Ell’s arm. She simply moved out of his reach. The chief said, “We don’t trade hostages! Certainly not an underage girl.”

  “Trade me for ten hostages. The ethics of the situation are inescapable – one life for ten.” Ell deftly sidestepped another grab by the detective.

  “Listen young lady,” the detective began, pulling out his handcuffs and shaking them loose then reaching out again for her wrist. “You’re
gonna be in ‘protective custody!’ I don’t care how famous you are…” Ell’s hands moved violently and he stumbled to a stop, staring at his wrists which were suddenly manacled by his own handcuffs.

  Ell continued to stare at the chief, “As you can see, I’m more capable than one might assume. If you simply turn me over to them I believe that I will be able to disarm many of the terrorists and in other ways impede their efforts,.”

  For a moment the chief stared, startled, at the detective’s bound wrists, then looked at Ell in musing appraisal. After a moment, he shook his head and said, “Sorry no.” in a louder voice he said, “Arrest this young lady and put her in protective custody.” To his astonishment, before he finished the sentence she had covered the three steps to the door, jerked it open, pulling it open so violently that the guard cop who’d been outside pushing on it fell into the room. She slipped past the guard to the outside. By the time they reached the door and looked out, she was trotting down the street away from the cordoned off crime scene area.

  “Shall we pursue?” one of the street cops asked.

  The chief looked after her for a moment, then shrugged and waved dismissal. “Nah, we got bigger fish to fry. And it would be a media nightmare…” he mused.

  Ell strode down the street, tears in her eyes. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out why she was crying? She’d only known her gymnastics team mates a few months and none of them had even been nice to her. That big lunk, Phil, had certainly never given her much reason to like him, though she had to admit recently he’d been friendlier. Still, her mind’s eye kept calling up her last view of him on her HUD, on his knees with his hands cuffed beneath his thighs. The people around him were just blurs but Phil’s face was clear to her, a mixture of belligerence and apprehension expressed on it.

  She felt sure that if she could get into that room, in the zone, she could do a great deal to help. Why had she jumped out of the bus? At the time it had seemed logical but now it seemed the rankest cowardice to have left Phil and the others’ behind and fled to safety herself. There didn’t seem to be a way that she could get back in there. If only she’d stayed, she might have been able to go into the zone and use her quickness to do something to save the others!

  Then she realized she was passing a uniform store. She slipped in. Did they have police uniforms? Yes! She found pants and blouse in her size and put them on over her gymnastic leotard. Then she found a salesperson who introduced herself as “Mabel, the owner.” Mabel commented that Ell “looked familiar” but didn’t make the connection without Ell’s Olympic gear. She found Ell a blank name tag, black socks, a belt, cap and regulation shoes. Ell put on the entire uniform and they inspected her image in the mirror. Ell was astonished at the change in her own appearance. “Alrighty Miss, you look very official. How many sets would you like to order?”

  Ell realized that the store would normally be outfitting new police who needed several uniforms at least. “Uh, just one until I get it approved by the sergeant.”

  “Really? OK. I’ll need to see your police ID to be able to approve the sale. Don’t want folks ‘impersonating officers’ you know.”

  Ell looked at her like a deer in the headlights for a moment.

  Mabel just had time to realize that “impersonating an officer” was exactly what the girl had in mind before the girl bolted out the door in the uniform. She was much too quick for Mabel to apprehend. Mabel wondered to herself, What could that kid be thinking? We had her on the security cameras, my AI captured images, and her bare hands had to have left DNA all over stuff here. She shrugged and asked her AI to file a report with the police. She knew it would be a while before they responded, what with the terrorists holed up down the street… Mabel’s eyes widened. Thinking of the terrorists and their attack on the Olympians a few blocks away caused her to realize why the girl looked familiar. That was Ell Donsaii! She pondered having her AI call the thief in as being Donsaii in order to get the incident higher priority than shoplifting usually got, then shook her head. Mabel had marveled while watching the young woman’s accomplishments and felt a great deal of pride that Ell represented her country. The girl might be responding to the terrorists’ attack on her fellow Olympians and needing to impersonate a police officer for some reason. Mabel decided that if Ell Donsaii wanted to steal something from Mabel’s store, Ell Donsaii could have it. She told her AI to retract the police report.

  Hamid came back on the net and announced that the Americans had 15 minutes to deliver Donsaii or one of the athletes would die. “Allah Akbar!”

  Ell straightened her uniform and walked quickly back to the parking deck, wondering just how she was going to make the rookie cop uniform work to get her into the terrorists’ hideout. It was getting hot as the sun got higher in the sky on a Texas morning and sweat prickled on her. As she walked up to the area of the command center a cop stepped out of one of the big support vehicles with Jamal, who had his wrists cuffed in front of him. The cop with Jamal was looking around as if searching for someone, “You there,” he motioned with his chin to Ell, “can you take this guy downtown and book him into protective custody?”

  Ell realized that the policeman had just been looking for someone lower in the pecking order than himself. Ell’s rookie appearance had made her an obvious choice. “Yes sir.” She said to the officer. Hoping desperately that she wasn’t making some procedural error, she walked up to Jamal and grasped him by the arm, “Come along now.”

  Jamal’s eyes widened as he recognized Ell but he said nothing as she led him down a side street. Without looking at him she said, “I need to get down into the terrorists hideaway, do you know of a way that I can get in?”

  Jamal looked at her doubtfully, “They’ll kill you.”

  She nodded, “They’ll try. Can you get me in?”

  “You wouldn’t be able to take any weapons with you, you’ll be thoroughly searched.”

  “That’s OK, can you get me in?”

  “Can you cut me loose?”

  She turned into an alley that Jamal immediately recognized. It was the one that had the entrance to the storm drain! Ell led Jamal behind a dumpster where she inspected the cheap plasticuffs on his wrists, they were made out of the same material as standard cable ties. “Wait here.” She turned and strode away. Jamal pondered fleeing but he would surely be re-apprehended, running down the street alone with his wrists cuffed. He sank to the ground in the slightly cooler shade behind the dumpster and wondered if he could play both sides of this match? He asked his AI to contact Hamid. He had been astonished when the police left his AI on his belt and HUD on his head but had assumed they had disabled it. To his surprise, his AI responded, “Working.”

  Jamal was even more surprised a few seconds later when Hamid came on. “Jamal, you coward, where are you?”

  “The American police captured me but I escaped. Now I have captured Donsaii and I am bringing her to the secret entrance for you.”

  “What?!” I don’t believe you! Let me see her!”

  Oops. Jamal thought desperately, then, “I have stashed her for the moment. I will show her to you when I pick her up to bring her down.”

  “You come to the secret entrance, with or without her. If the Americans follow you I will personally kill you before they harm any of us.”

  Back in the command post one of the techs at the front of the truck spun and shouted, “Chief Bowers! We’ve extracted communication to and from ‘Hamid’ off the net. It’s that ‘Jamal’ saying that he’s captured Donsaii and is bringing her in to their hideout!” The tech tapped his HUD meaningfully.

  The Chief cursed and looked up at his own screens as the feed came in but it was just audio. When he’d heard the conversation he swore some more. “Who let that Jamal guy go! Jeffers! Track that down for me! Jones, I thought you said there wasn’t any way into the bottom of that deck without ‘blowing a hole?!’”

  “Jeez Chief, the plans sure as hell don’t show any ingress! Maybe they dug a tu
nnel when they were setting this up? Sure as hell they’ve been planning this a while to have strung that antenna they’re accessing the net through.”

  The Chief fixed Jones with a fierce glare, “Figure it out.” He ground out, “We need that back door for ourselves and we sure as Hades have got to keep them from getting Donsaii in through it. There’ll be Hell to pay if they kill that girl! And get me better audio of what’s happening inside the terrorist hideout!”

  “Sorry Chief. They’ve caulked under the door so we can’t slip in a mike or camera. We’re having to use a laser mike on the door and the door’s too big and heavy to transmit audio very well.”

  Chief Bowers turned again, “White, what’s SWAT up to? They figured out a way to get in yet?”

  White looked up from his station, “No sir. Sorry. Those steel doors have been welded shut. We’ve got shaped charges set to blow in the small door or to cut a hole in one of the concrete walls but without knowing where our people are located in that room it’s extremely likely that the explosion would hurt or kill one of our own people. We can use a cutter to get through the door but it would take forever.”

  “Can’t you drive your assault truck through that big door?”

  “No sir. Analysis of the video they broadcast shows they’ve parked the bus behind that door.”

  “Don’t you have some kind of ram you can mount on the front of the truck to push in the smaller door?”

  “It’s a very solid door and opens outward, we might only bend it in and then the truck might get stuck. We have a lance for the truck that would punch a hole through the door, then it has a hook so that we can back up and pull the door out of its frame but it’d take time and those Kalashnikovs they’re carrying could kill a whole lot of hostages before we got anyone in the door.”

  The chief put his hands to his head and looked up at the ceiling. “Jesus Christ!” he muttered, then louder to the room in general, “Anybody gets any great ideas, let me know pronto.” He turned to his second in command, “Do you really think he’ll kill one of them?” His second turned palms up and shrugged.