by Susan Stoker
Aimee squeaked in pain as she was forced to her feet to walk backward.
“What’s your name?” Tony asked suddenly, standing as the man pulled Aimee away from him, wanting to try to connect with this man in some way. He’d wanted to keep hold of Aimee—the last thing he wanted was for her to be in the man’s clutches—but playing tug-of-war with Aimee’s life wasn’t high on his list of things to do.
“Mohammad.”
“No, it’s not.” Tony couldn’t keep the irritation out of his voice. “Cut the shit. You’re no more a Mohammad than I am. If you’re gonna kill me and my girlfriend, at least be honest and tell us your real name and reason for doing this.” For a moment, Tony thought he’d gone too far, that the guy was going to shoot both him and Aimee right then and there, but miraculously, the shooter seemed to approve of his straightforward skepticism.
“It’s Bill.”
“I’m Tony, and that’s Aimee,” Tony told him, trying to humanize them to the guy who, at the moment, had the power to decide if they were going to live or die.
“I don’t fucking care what your names are, you’re gonna get me out of here.” Bill waved the gun in Tony’s direction and shifted until he had a hold of Aimee with an arm around her neck. Because she was shorter than he was by quite a bit, he had to lean over to accomplish it.
Tony met Aimee’s eyes. She looked scared, but also pissed, and that was good. Her eyes were wide and her teeth clenched. Her hair was falling out of the ponytail Bill had recently let go of. If she’d been only terrified, she wouldn’t be able to think clearly, but he should’ve known better. She was a soldier, just like he was. She’d proven herself capable to him more than once, he just had to wait for the perfect time to act. The thought ran through his mind that if the gun had jammed once, it could again. He just hoped it wasn’t after a bullet had gone through either one of their skulls.
Aimee’s hands had moved up to the arm around her throat, and Tony could tell she was aware of just how close her own hand was to the shooter’s by the way her eyes flicked to it, then back to him. She might not be able to grab hold of it and use it, but she could at least hold it away from her head…or his. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something. He couldn’t communicate anything to her without Bill hearing, but he hoped she remembered some of her training from Basic. Close-combat fighting had been covered, miraculously including a situation just like this one.
Tony listened carefully as Bill was busy mumbling under his breath. He didn’t hear anything from the other side of the room where they’d stashed the children. The last thing he wanted was Bill to discover they were there and to have thirty-six vulnerable hostages. He knew without a doubt that if Bill threatened one of the kids, both he and Aimee would do whatever he wanted without a fight. They had a much better chance of getting out of this situation without the students being involved. He hoped their luck would hold.
The school was strangely quiet. Tony had no idea if Bill had shot anyone before reaching the gym; it was likely, but there were no screams, no yelling, and he hadn’t heard any sirens either.
“How many people did you shoot before you got here?” Tony dared to ask Bill, as if they were standing around at a barbeque shooting the shit.
“Don’t know,” Bill grunted in response. “Why do you care? You should be worrying about you and your girlfriend here.”
“I do care about us,” he agreed immediately. “But I’m also concerned about my students, and friends who teach here.”
“If you must know, I have no idea,” Bill told him candidly. “I just started shooting when I first walked in. I think there were a few people who went down there. By the time I got to the hallway though, most of the doors were locked. Fucking assholes.”
Tony breathed a small sigh of relief. Their training on active shooters seemed to have done some good. Along with the local officers speaking to the students, the principal, Jane Allen, had hired a former FBI agent to come to the school during one of the teachers’ in-service days to go over protocol for what they should do to “shelter in place.” Instructions included locking the classroom doors, piling as many desks up against the door as possible, closing and locking the windows, and huddling together away from both the door and windows, where stray bullets could cause damage.
Having fewer victims to shoot could account for Bill’s irritation at the moment. Tony frantically thought through what his next move should be. He was more than aware that every word out of his mouth could either help get them out of the situation, or incite Bill to shoot them both in cold blood. He’d had basic negotiation classes while in Delta Force, but he’d never had to use anything he’d learned.
Tony had faced death plenty of times during his stint in the military, but this was different. It wasn’t just him or his trained team of Army Delta Force operatives…it was Aimee’s life on the line too. That made all the difference in the world.
Bill had stopped moving as he answered Tony’s questions, but he didn’t want him to suddenly remember what he’d been doing before he’d been distracted.
A bead of sweat made its way down the small of Tony’s back. The stakes had never been higher. “It’s hot in here, can I undo my tie?” Tony asked Bill, trying to make the man think he was in charge.
“I don’t give a shit, but don’t get any ideas that you’re gonna be tying me up with that pansy-ass cartoon tie or something.”
Tony didn’t respond to the taunt, merely released the knot on the tie and pulled it free, stuffing it in his pocket. He unbuttoned a few buttons of his white dress shirt, breathing a bit easier. It had taken him a while to get used to wearing both dress shirts and ties, but it always felt good when he could take them off at home and put on clothes he was more comfortable in. He’d been jealous more than once that Aimee could wear sweats or track pants and T-shirts to work.
“It’d be easier to get out of here if you ditched us and snuck out one of the back doors to the building, you know,” Tony said as nonchalantly as he could.
“Too late,” Bill stated without much emotion in his words. “Cops have the place surrounded. The only way I’m getting out of here is with you two assholes paving my way.”
Tony opened his mouth to respond when a voice rang out through the gym over the loudspeakers. They heard it echoing through the hallway outside the cavernous room as well.
“My name is Jones. We have the building surrounded. Come out with your hands up.”
Tony sighed in relief. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but it sounded like the cavalry had arrived.
Seven
Jones didn’t make it all the way to the school before hitting police barricades. Not even trying to sweet-talk the officers who were frantically trying to direct traffic and deal with freaked-out parents, he parked his rental at a nearby business and ran the three blocks to the school.
He sought out the command center, not finding it hard to identify. There was a large RV-type vehicle with “Killeen PD Command Truck” painted on the side. There were several pockets of officers huddled around the back of the truck, looking at blueprints of the school as well as a group of lethal-looking men standing off to the side. Jones headed for them first.
“Fletch, Ghost. Good to see you.”
Fletch stuck out his hand to shake Jones’s. “You too, even if I wish it was under better circumstances.”
Jones nodded at Ghost and shook his hand too, getting down to business. “What do we know?”
“Not much,” Ghost told him grimly. “Apparently a lone shooter entered the front door around thirteen-forty. He didn’t say anything, but started shooting from two hand guns.”
“Casualties?” Jones asked.
“Three that we know of at this point. They were just inside the building and were the first shot. Thank God the school staff had been trained what to do in an active-shooter situation. Most of the classrooms have been evacuated. The teachers got the kids out the windows on the first floor. It might not have been the best decisio
n, but I can’t blame them. It’s instinct to try to get out of the building where you know someone is shooting.”
Jones nodded in relief. “Good. Shooter is still inside?”
“Yes,” an unknown man answered that time. He’d walked up to their group as Ghost finished updating Jones with what he knew.
Jones looked at the officer and saw the tag on his uniform read “May.” He held out his hand. “Captain May, I’m Jones. I think you might’ve heard from my friend, Tex.”
The other man nodded in agreement and shook his hand. “Yes. You’re experienced in hostage negotiation?”
“Experienced as one can be when dealing with desperate people, I suppose. I just spent the last week down in Austin at a training seminar learning new techniques as well.”
“Good. We’ve tapped into the surveillance cameras and it looks like the shooter is holed up in the gym. He’s got two hostages. A first-grade teacher and a gym teacher. Miss O’Brien and Mr. Santoro seem to be holding their own at the moment.”
“Excellent, gym teachers are usually in shape and we could use Mr. Santoro’s help if need be,” Jones mused.
“Oh, Tony isn’t the gym teacher, he teaches first grade,” Captain May explained. At the look of chagrin on Jones’s face, he hurried to reassure him. “Don’t worry about it, he gets that all the time. But he’s former military. I spoke with the principal and she said they did a background check on him and he was some sort of Special Forces, but his records don’t indicate what kind.”
Jones and the other Deltas nodded. This was good. May didn’t say what branch the man had been in, but ultimately it didn’t matter. SEAL, Delta Force, Green Beret, British SAS or Australian Special Operations Command…any experience in the Special Forces would be appreciated and valuable in this situation. And they could use that right about now.
“What else do the cameras show?” Ghost demanded.
“The guy seems to be young. He’s white, and a bad shot. He wounded a few people before everyone could get locked down.”
“Kids?” Fletch interrupted, looking upset, and not like the in-control Delta Force soldier he was.
Jones spared a look at his friend, not sure why he sounded so stressed. Fletch was usually unflappable, but something about this situation had gotten to him. He didn’t have time to reflect any more on it, however, as the captain answered.
“A few. But they played dead, as they were trained, thank God, and the guy kept on walking. Once he was out of sight, the kids helped each other up and came out the front of the school. They’re being transported now, but none were injured badly.”
“Are all the students out?” It was Jones who asked that time.
“We don’t think so because the numbers aren’t adding up,” Captain May told them. “Of course we can’t get a good count with all the chaos, but there’s a teacher, Mrs. Brown, who says that she can’t find any of the kids, and they were supposed to be in the gym. She hadn’t picked them up before everything started. The principal says that Mr. Santoro’s class also seems to be missing.”
“He’s the teacher who’s in the gym with the shooter and the gym teacher?” Blade, one of the Delta Force soldiers, asked.
The captain nodded. “Miss O’Brien, yes. But the cameras in the gym only show the teachers and the shooter.”
“Any chance I can get a look at those tapes?” Jones asked.
“Of course, we’ve got them pulled up inside the truck,” Captain May agreed, turning to head toward the large vehicle without wasting any more time.
Jones, Ghost, and Fletch followed the officer, leaving the rest of the Deltas reviewing a set of blueprints of the building, and soon they were watching a live feed of the gym. All three men leaned in close. They couldn’t hear what was being said, if anything, but they had a pretty good view of the large room.
“Is there audio?” Jones asked impatiently.
“Yeah, but it’s not been switched on out here. We’re just copying the feed. It’s more complicated to copy it and get the audio. But inside there’s audio capability,” the captain explained quickly.
Jones nodded and continued to scope out the gym. There was a set of bleachers against one wall. There were about seven rows, all empty. On one end of the room there was a cluster of lockers. The floor of the gym had all sorts of equipment strewn around it, making entry, if necessary, more complicated. Tires, mats, flags, weights, and even a balance beam. The shooter was standing near the doors to the gym with a woman in his grasp. The gun he was holding was clearly visible, as was the tall bearded man about ten feet from them.
“As you can see, there’s really no place to hide any kids…especially not two classes of them,” May fretted.
Jones studied the layout of the gym and turned to Fletch. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yeah.”
Jones turned to the police captain. He liked Fletch’s no-nonsense attitude. It almost felt as if he was back working on the teams again. Being on a Delta Force team was akin to working with brothers who had grown up together. They seemed to get each other without having to explain their thoughts. That was one of the reasons he enjoyed working with Joker. There was just something about the way a Special Forces operative’s mind worked. They were in sync and it felt great.
“They’re in the lockers,” Jones told the captain, who blinked back at him in disbelief. “The teachers obviously had enough time to stash them there before the shooter arrived.”
“How do you know that?” Captain May asked incredulously. “There’s no way those kids would fit in there…would they?”
“There’s nowhere else they could be,” Jones said definitely. “They aren’t under the bleachers, the shooter would’ve found them by now. The teachers could’ve hid under the bleachers themselves, but they didn’t. And I figure they had to have had a reason not to do more to try to hide.”
“God. Damn,” the captain breathed.
“Yeah,” Jones agreed. “The entire situation is a time bomb waiting to explode. All it’ll take is one sneeze or cough from one of the kids, and their hiding spot will be compromised. We need to end this now.”
“I’m making you our official hostage negotiator,” Captain May declared. “The guy we usually use is about thirty minutes out, and we don’t have that kind of time. Come on, you can use the microphone in the principal’s office. It’s connected to the speakers in every room in the building so announcements can be made. There’s a two-way speaker in every room too, we’ll turn it on in the gym so you can talk to him directly.”
“Lead the way,” Jones responded immediately, knowing as well as they all did that time was of the essence.
As they exited the command vehicle, Jones looked back at Fletch and Ghost. They nodded at him and turned to the rest of their team to bring them up to speed about the situation. Jones breathed out a relieved sigh. The Deltas would take care of security, and he could rely on them to be right where he needed them, when he needed them. Of that he had no doubt.
Following the police captain, Jones entered the principal’s spacious office and settled himself behind the desk. Someone had called up the live feed of the gym on the computer already, and the microphone was there, ready to be used.
Jones nodded at the captain as he backed out of the room. He took a deep breath. This was what he did, what he’d trained for. Joker back in Virginia believed in him. His security teammates believed in him. And Mr. Santoro, Miss O’Brien, and two classes of kids were relying on him. He wouldn’t fail.
He cleared his throat and pushed the transmit button on the microphone. He’d start out with the easy and expected line and go from there.
“My name is Jones. We have the building surrounded. Come out with your hands up.”
Eight
Aimee winced as Bill’s grasp tightened around her neck when he heard the voice over the loudspeaker. She kept her eyes on Tony, wanting to be ready for anything. She had no idea what he would be able to do, but she’d trust him
with her life—was trusting him with her life at the moment.
“I want two million dollars and a helicopter,” Bill shouted back at the unknown person on the other end of the speaker.
“You know that’s not going to happen, man,” the person responded, sounding almost amused. “I want to help you, but I can’t if you make unreasonable demands. All I want is for you, Mr. Santoro, and Miss O’Brien to come out of this alive. Okay?”
“How does he know your names?” Bill hissed into Aimee’s ear.
“I don’t know,” she managed to squeak out. “I’m guessing the principal told him we weren’t outside and they assumed it was us in here.” Aimee knew good and well there were cameras in each classroom, and the gym. She’d resented them when she’d first started, feeling as if she was being spied on, but had quickly lost interest in them. It wasn’t as if the principal or anyone else was sitting around watching her teach, they had their own work to get done. Besides that, they really were a good tool when people had to observe the class, or in cases of emergencies…like this one.
“I guess we’ll see how much they like you then,” Bill mused before raising his voice to respond to the mystery man on the other end of the electronic device. “You don’t give a shit about me, so don’t pretend you do. You cops have no clue what life is really about. You sit in your fancy-ass cars, with your fancy-ass houses, with your fancy-ass wives, and look down on the rest of us who are struggling to get by. You’re so clueless, you have no idea your wife is probably fucking the neighbor the second you leave to go to work.”
“I’m not a cop,” the voice said, seemingly not ruffled in the least. “My name is Jones, and I work for an security company in Virginia.”
Aimee was just as confused as Bill obviously was.
He muttered under his breath, “What the fuck?” before saying it louder. “What the fuck? What is someone from Virginia doing talking to me here in Texas?”
“I happened to be here on vacation,” Jones replied nonchalantly.