“Show, Nadia. It’s a show.”
Nadia laughed. “Whatever… Look, I’m sorry she’s such a dud.”
“Yeah…. It’s okay. I’ll live… I guess I should get back.”
“Have fun, sweetheart.”
Devin laughed. “Can’t promise anything.”
“Sorry, sweetie…”
“You owe me dinner for this.”
“I promise… Hey, I just wanted you to find a nice girl who’ll love you like I do… But you know, with sex.”
Devin smiled. “I know. And you’re very sweet. It’s just not this one.”
“Call me later.”
“I will…”
Devin hung up the phone and looked around the bathroom.
“Guess I gotta go back out there sometime.”
32
Richard Blakely walked the length of the green room looking at the assembled group. Every big movie star in the world was here. As well as a few famewhores and a teen singing sensation. There was that English chick Glynn Fielding, biggest star in the world Zack Branson, that hottie Everett Cale… and little apartment sized Kaden Conroy. He alone would fetch a lot of money.
Richard shook his head. This is what America cares about? These assholes?
We’ll see about that.
Not like the world owed him or anything. Oh wait, it totally did.
The actors were all sitting on couches, chairs and on the floor. Richard had five guards with him as well as Vidic, who loomed menacingly nearby, waiting for an excuse to kill. Meanwhile another five guys were finishing rigging all the exit doors with explosives. So that if anyone tried to get in or out, the whole place would blow. It really was ingenious. There was only one way out and only two people knew where it was – Richard and Sis.
And only two people would be using it. The rest, when Sis and Richard had their money, would be blown to oblivion.
“Hey… ”
Richard looked up to see a gangly kid with a mop of brown hair hanging in his face and a slouchy teenaged boy’s demeanor slinking up to him.
“What?”
“Dude? We good?”
Richard gave him a look. “What is it Zack?”
“Everything’s set up.”
“Good.”
“You wanna come check it?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Uh huh… It’s just-”
Richard took the kid’s elbow leading him away from where others could hear.
“What do you want, Zack?”
“I’m kinda thirsty. Can I get myself a Coke or something?”
Richard sighed. “Whatever. Go ahead.”
“Can you have one of the guys bring it to me? I need to concentrate on what I’m doing.”
Richard glared at the kid. Why he had hired this 21-year-old hacker loser wasn’t a mystery – he was the best. But the best came at an annoying price.
“Fine…”
Zack turned and started loping away. “Oh.” He stopped.
Richard turned to him again, his last nerve wearing away.
“What?” Richard hissed.
“And if there’s any like Twinkies around… something like that. I’m kinda peckish.”
“Fine.”
Richard turned back to the group. He saw 25 year old actress Tannis Overholt, that Rom Com star with the shiny shiny hair and All American smile, rumored huge coke problem and the crappy movies that America couldn’t get enough of, turn and whisper something to the guy next to her.
And for this war hero, there was nothing?
Richard, already feeling a little bit irritable after his conversation with Zack walked over to her and stood over her.
“No talking.”
And with that he smashed her in the side of the face with his gun.
33
Devin pulled the door open of the ladies room and headed back across the lobby, sliding her cell phone back into her evening bag. She got to the big ornate door to the auditorium and steadied herself a moment. She was going to have to do two more hours with Lori Plom. This was a greater test of endurance than anything the Police Academy ever offered up.
She smoothed out her dress, sighed, resigned herself and pulled on the oversized gold door handle. The door opened with that swishing sound all sound proof theaters had, like it had been vacuum packed.
Devin stepped into the theater. Suddenly her heart was in her throat.
“Oh my God…”
She looked around the vast 2800-seat theater, with its gilded edges and its rich red curtains and seats. With its three tiered balcony. She turned around and took in the full 360. She was absolutely and entirely alone.
“What the hell?”
She instinctively reached for her hip – for her gun, which was clearly not there.
Her next instinct was to get the hell down. She crouched down between two rows of seats and opened her evening bag, taking her cell phone out. She pressed a button.
After a ring. Brad answered. “Thank fucking God. Are you outside?”
“Brad, what the hell is going on?”
“Jesus, Devin, tell me you’re okay.”
“What’s happening?”
“Are you outside?”
“Brad, just tell me what’s going on here. I should be calling dispatch first really, not my best friend so make this fucking call worth my while.”
Brad took an audible deep breath. “They’ve taken 25 celebrities hostage somewhere.”
“Who’s they?”
“I don’t know. A security guard came out onstage, he had that Sally Bixby, had a gun to her head. Told everyone to get out.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Devin… are you still inside?”
She couldn’t even think of answering that right now. “I’ll call you back.”
She pressed end call and took a deep breath to get her bearings. Okay, get out. Simple as that. Get out.
She stayed low and made a break for the exit. She pushed opened the door, slowly and stepped out into the lobby. God, a gun would really come in handy right now. She peered across at the exit door. It wasn’t that far. She could make it. She could run. Then something caught her eye. A wire. In between the doors. She looked up at one of the series of double French doors lining the entrance to the theater and saw a telltale clay-like gray lump– C4. It had red and yellow wires coming out of it. And a digital timer attached. Looking up, Devin suddenly realized that the wires that ran in between the doors linked up each one of these sets of C4 explosives, like one giant bomb.
If one door opened the whole place went up.
“Oh my God…”
Devin looked around the bright and very exposed lobby. There was nowhere to go and nowhere to hide.
She opened the theater door again and slipped back inside. Once inside the theater she crouched down in between two rows again. She pulled her cell phone out and pressed a number.
“Dispatch.”
Devin spoke quietly into the phone. “Nita… It’s Detective Jones.”
“Hey, Devin. You on duty?”
“No…I’m inside the Hollywood Screen Awards theater…”
“Shit…No.”
“They’ve taken hostages. I need to talk to Esteves.”
Nita paused a moment. “Chief Esteves is in Hawaii, Devin…”
Fuck! Now what?
“Put me through to someone… Homeland Security, the FBI, someone who can help me.”
“Okay, right away.”
“Nita, just not--”
But it was too late, after two rings a voice picked up. The last voice she wanted to hear right now.
“Bennett.”
Shit. Bronco Fucking Bennett. Fuck!
“Bennett… it’s Detective Devin Jones.”
“Jones, what the fuck do you want? I’ve got a situation here, I don’t have time to be--”
Devin whispered intently. “I’m inside.”
“What?”
Devin was trying to k
eep from getting mad. “I’m inSIDE.”
There was no sound from the other end of the phone.
“Bennett, did you hear-”
“What the fuck are you doing inside?”
“Does it really matter? I’m here.”
“Well, get out.”
Bronco Bennett sounded pissy. Like she was inconveniencing him with her being trapped in this booby trapped theater.
“I can’t get out…They’ve rigged the doors. Which means you can’t get in either.”
“Look I really don’t need-”
“And I do? Like I want to be in here?”
Bronco Bennett didn’t say anything.
Devin looked around. Brought her voice back to a whisper. “They’ve got C4 on all the doors.”
“How many doors?”
“All five sets of doors in the lobby. So you can assume they got all the doors in the whole place.”
Bronco made a noise in between a moan and a growl. “Fucking great.”
“There’s more – the doors are rigged to each other. So even if you send in a robot and blow a door, the whole place’ll go up. It’s-”
Bronco Bennett interrupted her. “Fine. Got it. Thanks. Now find a way to lay low.”
“Oh, sure. Great idea. I’ll just put my feet up.”
“You stay where you are, Jones. This is mine to handle. And you’re out of your jurisdiction. Do anything and I’ll have your badge.”
At that moment, Devin saw something on the screens by the side of the stage. She looked up and watched.
“Something’s happening…” she said.
“Yeah, thanks Miss Marple. I can see it on the TV.”
The cameras backstage showed a tall looking blond guy with a beard wearing a security guard uniform. Behind him in the green room, were a bunch of movie stars all looking scared to death.
“Evening, Ladies and Gentlemen,” the man said to the viewers at home. “Sorry to interrupt your nice show… but here’s how it’s going to work…”
34
Richard Blakely looked right into the camera. He wanted to smile, but didn’t. “We have here all your favorite Hollywood movie stars. look there’s her… and him… and that guy… And what we’re going to do is start killing them one by one…. Unless YOU pay their ransom. That’s right, the billion of you watching. You love your Hollywood. You want to be part of the action… well, now you are. A billion people, no reason why we can’t come up with a billion dollars. It’s easy. You’ll see a web address on the screen. Go to it and it’ll give you instructions… it’s like buying a shirt online… we’ll connect you to PayFriend. And you make your donation. Simple. Right? Oh… And you’ve got two hours or they all die.”
He indicated to the security guy holding the camera to pan the faces of the terrified looking celebrities gathered.
Richard motioned to Entertainment reporter Sally Bixby who came rushing over. She stood next to him holding an index card, her hand shaking wildly.
Richard continued. “And if you don’t pay us what we want. Then once every half hour this will happen…”
Vidic marched Sis Warren out in front of the camera.
Sally Bixby nervously read from the index card. Her voice was quakey. “Sis Warren is the producer of this telecast. A Hollywood legend of sorts, Sis has produced many top grossing British films.”
Richard pulled his gun out of the holster, pointed it at Sis and shot her execution style three times in the chest. Everyone in the greenroom gasped. The camera followed her as she flopped to the floor, blood streaming out of her mouth.
Richard glared at the camera. “See? That’s how it’s going to be. One by one, we’ll kill them all. So go to your computer and pay their ransom now.”
35
Devin couldn’t believe what she’d just seen on the screen. Her heart was pounding.
She spoke into the phone. “You still there?”
There was silence, then Bronco Bennett finally spoke. “Jones. Get the fuck out.”
“How?”
“I don’t give a shit. But I’m not going to be responsible for you.”
Devin looked up to the screen. Two big guys were dragging Sis Warren’s body out of the room, leaving a trail of blood.
“I have to do something, Bennett. Give me something to do.”
“You do anything, Jones… It’s your badge.”
Up on the large screen, Devin saw that actress Tannis Overholt ugly crying. She was bleeding from a nasty wound on her cheek.
Devin looked away from the screen. She knew who else she’d see if she kept looking and she couldn’t deal with that right now. She didn’t want that to be the reason for what she was about to do.
“I’ll tell you what, Bennett – if I live through this you can have my badge. But I can’t leave those people in there. I have to do something.”
She ended the call and put her phone down on the floor. She looked around, her thoughts going a million miles an hour. But everything perfectly clear.
25 hostages. No way out. Looked like a dozen men with guns, could be more. She was unarmed and alone.
Now what?
36
Seventeen year old Kaden Conroy leaned back against the couch behind him in the Moscow Ice Green Room and thought about his next move. Not in this room – there was no move to make. In his career. This was the only thing that gave him some peace of mind. He could feel the English actress, that hot MILF Glynn Fielding who was sitting on the floor next to him; he could feel her body shaking. He wanted to be all “it’s gonna be okay,” but at the same time felt like he might puke.
Kaden glanced around the room. That big blond guy with the beard who told them all what to do – he was leaning against the wall just staring at him. Kaden looked away. Staring back wasn’t such a good idea. He looked over at action star Ray Kitson and saw a bead of sweat fall down his face. That guy looked scared shitless.
Then he heard a voice.
“Kaden Conroy… how much you think your life is worth?”
Kaden felt his stomach heave. The beard guy with the gun was talking to him.
He looked at the guy. “I dunno…”
“Come on…” the guy said, walking over towards him. “Take a guess. A couple million bucks?”
Kaden shrugged. He saw the guy start to look irritated. Kaden thought he should answer the man. “Yeah. Maybe. A couple million bucks.”
The guy smirked. “You better hope so.”
Kaden wasn’t sure what that meant. He looked back down. The bearded guy came over to him. Standing over him like a fucking scary shadow. He kneeled down and got right in Kaden’s face.
“The more your bring in, the longer you last.”
Kaden swallowed hard. This guy was not fucking around. And to prove it, he grabbed Kaden by his hair and pulled him up to standing. “Come on…” he growled.
Kaden thought of his dog. Not his family or his girlfriend. Not his Grammys. He wished he’d never left Buffalo. He wished this was all over, the whole thing - Tonight, the past two years, being famous. All of it. He was probably going to die and it was almost a relief from the life he found himself in.
37
Richard yanked Kaden Conroy by his mop of hair across the room and in front of a camera. He nodded to the guy behind the camera. The red light came on.
“Ladies and gentlemen, and of course.. little girls… This is Kaden Conroy. And if we don’t receive 15 million dollars he has 30 minutes to live.”
Richard smirked into the camera. “You have 29 minutes.” Then he whispered into Kaden Conroy’s ear. “You do too…29 minutes to live. You wanna say anything?”
He dug his gun deep into the kid’s ribs.
Kaden felt the tears coming. Here he was about to die and he felt like he’d never got the chance to live. This more than sucked. He swallowed hard. He looked into the camera. A tear fell down his cheek. His face burned with rage and embarrassment.
“Please... Help me. I don’t wanna d
ie.”
38
Devin Jones looked away from the auditorium’s giant screen where she’d just seen something that no one should have to see, especially the millions of 12 year old girls who no doubt had just witnessed that.
“This is seriously fucked up,” she whispered.
Devin went back to what she was doing. Seriously wishing she was wearing something more practical than this Prada dress and her Dolce and Gabbana strappy sandals.
She was sitting on the floor between two rows in the middle of the theater. She had one goal at the present moment and that was to find improvised weapons. Anything and everything she could get her hands on that she could either use as a weapon or modify in some way. There were a sea of abandoned evening bags on the floor, surely one had to have something helpful.
Just then she remembered her own bag and what was inside.
Shit.
She opened the clasp of her quilted clutch, grabbed her flat badge and ID and shoved it down between two seats. Anyone found that on her, she was dead. Not that she wasn’t dead anyway, but at least playing the part of a hapless actress who hadn’t escaped the theater she stood more of a chance than as an off duty police detective.
She grabbed a small gold Fendi bag and opened it – perfect. A small can of hairspray. Another bag – a nail file and a lighter. Another bag – a pair of tweezers and a car key.
She spotted something under one of the seats – a disposable camera.
“Sweet…”
She reached over and grabbed the camera. Took the tweezers and flicked the camera open, exposing the wires.
With the back of the camera open, she took two of the wires, stripped the edges and attached another wire to the two. She knew all she had to do was charge the flash and this thing would be ready to go. A hand made tiny taser. Usually took about 12 seconds for the charge, but once it was done, it could bring down a grown man just like a taser. She wasn’t sure if all this would stand her a chance. But she knew she had to try.
This is Devin Jones Page 9