by John Bowers
Dozens of officers now swarmed over LincEnt, taking over from the security staff. Oliver watched as a dozen or so unpacked military-style equipment, as if preparing for a pitched battle. He wanted to help, but knew he would only be in the way. These men were trained for this kind of encounter; his only training was to kill.
Darkness fell. Police began letting the employees leave as each car was inspected and Mason wasn't in it. Mrs. Waterbury was taken away by ambulance. By six o'clock, no one was visible except police and a few security guards. Oliver stared up at his dad's window again and wondered what was going on behind it.
Chapter 47
Denver, CO, North America, Terra
News teams arrived at LincEnt's front gate, but the police stopped them there. Reporters set up their equipment and holocams with high-powered zooms focused on the Tower. Officers at the gate were interviewed, and the story was immediately beamed to news agencies across the system.
* * *
Rosemary Egler sat on the floor, leaning against the desk. Her body ached all over, and sharp pains still lingered in her groin. She still had trouble believing it — Jeremy had raped her! Right in front of Mr. Lincoln!
Jeremy was standing by the window, pressed against the wall as he looked down at the commotion on the ground. The lights were out, the office dark, and no one could see in without IR gear.
This was insane! Here she sat, raped and bleeding, and her mind was off running its own evaluation of the situation, as if part of her were a holonews reporter instead of the victim of a vicious assault. Worse, Mr. Lincoln lay bleeding with two bullets in him, just a few feet from where she sat. He hadn't moved since Jeremy shot him, and Rosemary couldn't even tell if he was breathing.
"Look at that!" Jeremy breathed in admiration. "At least forty of those fuckers! All here just to take me down. Can you imagine that? Takes forty of them!"
"Jeremy …"
"Don't you touch him, Rosemary! I warned you. You touch him and I'll shoot him again!"
"Jeremy, if he doesn't get help, he could bleed to death!"
"Trust me, girl, he had it coming. Rich fuck, thinks he can push people around!"
She closed her eyes wearily, her heart aching worse than her body. She was beyond fear at this point; the unthinkable had already happened, and now she would either live or die, and at the moment it didn't much matter either way. But she did hope Mr. Lincoln would be all right. Somehow she had to convince Jeremy to let someone help him.
"You don't need him any more, Jeremy. If you want a hostage, you have me. He can't hurt you any more."
"Bastard will never hurt anyone again."
"Why did you do this? You just got out of jail. Wasn't that bad enough? Don't you know what will happen now?"
He stepped away from the window and settled into the executive chair. She could see only his silhouette against the glow of night-lights outside.
"You believe in fate, Rosemary?"
"Fate? I don't know. What do you mean?"
"I think every one of us is on a sort of preprogrammed track, you know? Like, no matter what we do, our destiny is already decided."
"That sounds crazy."
"No, I don't think so. I was a great cop once. A really great cop. Had everything going for me. But then that one night, that one guy took a shot, and everything changed. Like it was meant to be. I've gone over it in my mind a million times, and I can't see a single thing I did wrong, or that I could have done to prevent what happened. I played everything perfectly, but that one asshole took his shot and I lost everything." He released a deep, sad sigh. "One bullet, Rosemary. And everything changed for me. Forever."
"What are you trying to say?" she asked.
"Just that it was fate. I had my day, you know? I had a great run. And then it was time for it to end, and it did. When that bullet took off my leg, I started down a different path. Nothing I could do about it."
"Oh, gosh, Jeremy! That's just ridiculous! You did it to yourself. You had it good here! A good job, you were respected, you had a second chance. But you blew it. Fate had nothing to do with it."
He was silent for a moment.
"Well, it hardly matters now, does it? Because I'm completely fucked. Those guys down there? They're gonna kill me. No way out of this trap. So it doesn't matter if I kill the old man there, or if I kill you. The final result will be the same, won't it?"
She closed her eyes, fighting the sobs that threatened to break out. She needed to keep as much control as possible. If she gave in to hysteria, he might do anything.
"Does that mean," she asked, "that you're planning to kill me?"
More silence. Then,
"I wasn't planning on it. It could turn out that way."
"But you were planning to kill him?"
"No. I came here to punish him. Make him sweat a little, make him hurt a little. That's all."
"Then why did you shoot him?"
"Fate. He came at me, I had no choice."
"He was only trying to help me, Jeremy."
"Well, he picked the wrong time for that, didn't he?"
She was still trying to formulate a reply to that when a loud pounding came at the door.
"Mason! This is Captain Anderson! We need to talk!"
* * *
Oliver Lincoln III stood with his hands in his pockets. Angry, frustrated, scared. Lars stood beside him, equally helpless, and they watched the police scurry about in preparation for — what? An assault? A siege? Oliver wasn't sure, but he wished they'd get on with it.
Two hoversleds hung twenty yards from the Tower, each with a powerful searchlight and a sniper on board. They were suspended level with the executive office window, but at acute angles, so that anyone inside wouldn't be able to take a shot at them without exposing himself. When the order was given, the searchlights were switched on, and the window was illuminated with blinding white light.
But no one was visible in the window.
Oliver watched other officers take up positions, several with sniper rifles, but their fields of fire were poor. The window was fifty feet above the ground, and none of the nearby buildings offered a decent angle or enough altitude for a clear shot.
He became aware of voices; someone inside the Tower was talking to the suspect. The voice was loud enough to be audible from outside, but muffled by the building's walls. Oliver couldn't make out the words, nor could he understand the suspect's replies. It went on for ten minutes, and he felt increasingly anxious. He longed for the chance to take a shot himself, one clear shot at a critical moment — that was the way to end this thing.
* * *
"I got a woman in here, Anderson!" Jeremy shouted through the door. "You try to come through that door and I'll kill her! I've also got the company president, so don't do anything stupid."
"Mason, you don't need two hostages! Give me one of them and then I can do something for you."
"Fuck you, Anderson! Don't try to be my friend, okay? We're way past that."
"Okay, then. Tell me what you want. In exchange for one of the hostages."
"I don't want anything, except for you to go home and pull your people out."
"That isn't gonna happen," Anderson said. "You know better than that."
"Yeah, I know better than that."
"So what do you want? You getting hungry yet? Maybe some Chinese take-out?"
"Right, that's what I want! Chinese take-out, with a knockout drug in it. Just what I've been craving."
"Well, goddammit, what do you want?"
"Nothing. Just stay out there and rot!"
"Jeremy!" Rosemary pulled herself to her feet, leaning against the desk. "Let them take Mr. Lincoln to the hospital. You don't need him!"
"Shut up and sit down!" Jeremy snarled.
Rosemary raised her voice so Anderson could hear her. "He shot Mr. Lincoln! He needs medical attention …"
"Goddammit!" Jeremy darted across the room and slapped her. Rosemary sank to the floor again, oblivious to the
pain. The room was painfully bright, lit by the searchlights outside. The entire scene felt unnaturally surreal.
"Is that right, Mason? Did you shoot Mr. Lincoln?"
"He tried to attack me, okay? Yeah, I shot him. But don't worry, he's still breathing."
Lincoln was still unconscious, his chest rising and falling in short gasps. The blood pool had stopped spreading, but to Rosemary he didn't look too good.
"Let them take him, Jeremy!"
"Shut up!"
"I won't shut up! Let them take him, and I'll do whatever you want."
"You already did."
"You won't have to rape me. I'll do it willingly."
He turned a cynical smile on her. "What makes you think I want to?"
Rosemary felt the bitterness of hatred in her chest. She glared at him with glittering eyes.
"Fuck you, Jeremy! Fuck you!"
He only laughed at her.
"Mason — if Lincoln dies, you're going down for murder! You got that? It's in your best interest to turn him over to us now. Let us get him some medical help."
"Yeah, I'm sure you're real concerned about me going down for murder. By now you probably know about Cedarquist."
"Yeah, we know about him. But he's gonna make it."
Jeremy looked stunned. For fully ten seconds he didn't move.
"Bullshit!" he roared. "He's dead! I checked him myself!"
Rosemary stared at him in horror. "You killed Jules?" she whispered.
"I told you to shut the fuck up!" he shouted.
"Cedarquist is in serious condition," Anderson said from outside, "but he's going to make it. He may have some brain damage, but that can be corrected."
"You're fucking lying!"
"Why would I do that? Look, Mason, you haven't killed anybody yet, all right? Let us have Lincoln. Without the murder rap, you might get out of prison before you're an old man."
"Bullshit! Bullshit!"
But Jeremy's hand was shaking. Rosemary saw uncertainty in his eyes.
* * *
An ambulance was parked near the front entrance to the Tower. Oliver was standing nearby when the doors opened and a hover stretcher was guided out. He was stunned to recognize his father on the stretcher.
"What happened?" he demanded as the medics began to load Lincoln into their vehicle.
"No time, sir!" one of the medics replied. "He's been shot; we have to get going."
"Christ! Dad! Can you hear me?"
"Sir, please step back …"
Lars pulled him away. "Oliver, let them go."
Oliver stood frozen, fear and rage coursing through him, as the ambulance backed away, lifted, and headed for the main gate.
"I didn't even hear a shot, did you?"
Lars shook his head.
"Who is this guy, anyway? I never heard of him!"
"Jeremy Mason? He was head of security for about a year. He started about the same time I came here."
"Chief Unger said he went to prison for beating up Rosemary?"
Lars nodded again. "She dated him for awhile. Then I heard she tried to break up with him, but he turned violent. He was sentenced to a year in jail."
"God damn!" Oliver rubbed his face briskly. Rosemary was still in there — he had to do something!
* * *
"Mason, are you guys getting hungry? You want anything in there?"
"We already had this conversation, Captain." Jeremy sat in Lincoln's chair, which he'd placed in the middle of the room. Gun in hand, he watched the window; Rosemary now sat against the office wall, her knees pulled up under her chin, her arms wrapped around them.
"We got a report from the hospital," Anderson said through the door. "Good news for you — Lincoln's gonna make it."
"Big whoop! Fuck off, Anderson!"
"How long you gonna stay in there?"
"Are the cows home yet?"
"Come on, Mason. Sooner or later you got to eat, or take a crap, or whatever. You might as well make it easy on yourself. Put down the gun and come out. Do it now or do it later, the final result will be the same."
Jeremy sat stonily and didn't answer. For just a second, one of the searchlights outside had flickered, as if a shadow had passed across it.
"What was that, Mason? I didn't catch your answer!"
"I said, if you don't shut the fuck up, maybe I'll shoot this woman!"
He got up slowly from the chair, moved over beside Rosemary, and crouched. He pulled the slide on the 9mm and watched the window with narrowed eyes.
"Look, what's the point of dragging this out? You can't go anywhere, we're not going to leave, and if you hurt Miss Egler, then you'll probably get the death penalty. Give it up, come on out."
"Not until I'm ready, Anderson. I need time to think about it."
"What's to think about? You come out now, or you come out later. Either way, you're coming out!"
"Goddammit, Anderson! You're giving me a headache!" Jeremy's eyes never left the window.
"Fine," Anderson said. "If you want to stay in there, fine. But let Miss Egler go! You don't need her. Send her out and I'll back off awhile, give you time to think."
"Yeah, right. Then you can burn this place down with me in it. Go fuck yourself!" Jeremy took aim at the window, bracing his gun hand with his left.
"Come on, Mason! You're only looking at maybe ten years max. What the hell have you got to lose? You let her go and we can work something …"
The window exploded as two heavily armored bodies hurtled through it, clinging to a cable they'd used to rappel down from above. Rosemary screamed, Jeremy fired, and glass sprayed across the room. One of the men hit the floor and lay still, the other rolled and bounced up into a combat crouch. But Jeremy's 9mm was still popping, and before the second man could bring his weapon to bear, Jeremy pumped four rounds through his head.
It was over in three seconds. Jeremy sprang toward the dead man and grabbed his pistol, then spun toward the other; but the first shot, which caught him in the forehead, had killed him. Jeremy kicked his weapon away, then dived to the floor before anyone outside could get a bead on him. Panting hard, he fired a round through the heavy door into the reception lobby.
"Anderson, you cocksucker!" he screamed. "You think I never worked a hostage crisis before? You motherfucker! It didn't work! Now back the fuck away before I kill this woman!"
* * *
Oliver watched the two officers prepare the assault, saw them clamber into position, and with bated breath watched them crash through the window. The sudden flurry of gunfire stabbed his nerves like the scratch of a fork on a china plate — and he heard Jeremy Mason's words afterward.
He trembled with emotion, glad that Rosemary was apparently still alive, but troubled that two officers probably were not. He looked at Lars with naked eyes.
"Let's take a walk."
The two turned and headed back toward the VIP quarters.
* * *
Rosemary was still screaming as Jeremy delivered his speech to Anderson. The horror was so overwhelming that she continued to scream until Jeremy slapped her into silence. She sat sobbing helplessly for several more minutes, unable to deal with the enormity of the violence.
It was the most horrible thing she'd ever seen. Two men, dead — just like that. Police officers. Who had come to — save her!
She tried not to look at them, but couldn't help it. They looked almost like robots, bundled in that protective gear — which hadn't saved them, because Jeremy had shot them in the head — using the gun she had given him!
The carpet was soaked in blood, first from Mr. Lincoln, now from the two dead men. The men were dead, but the stain was spreading slowly. She could smell it!
The man on the other side of the door was silent now, and for the first time, Rosemary realized that he'd been trying to distract Jeremy. Jeremy had recognized it earlier, of course, which was why he'd been waiting for the rescuers when they came through the window.
So now what? How much more hor
rible could this situation get?
Jeremy sat down beside her again, breathing heavily, and put an arm around her. He pulled her against him, kissed the side of her head, and patted her shoulder.
"Take it easy," he said. "They won't try that again."
It took her another minute to fight down the sobs, until she could find her voice again. She sat trembling like a leaf.
"Why did you do that?" she managed to ask. "You killed them like dogs!"
"Listen, they came through that window with orders to kill me! The only reason I'm alive now is because I shot first."
"Maybe if you had surrendered …"
"Bullshit. All that body armor? That was to keep me from killing them while they got the drop on me. Trust me, I know how these guys think."
He turned her chin toward him and kissed her on the lips.
"Now," he said, "it's time to make good on your promise."
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"You said if I let Lincoln go, you'd do it willingly."
She stared at him in shock, disgusted beyond words.
"Now? After what you just did?"
"You promised, baby. It's time to pay up."
He pushed her over onto her back.
Chapter 48
Denver, CO, North America, Terra
The LincEnt control tower was deserted. The entire facility had been evacuated except for Oliver, Lars, and the security staff. With a package in his left hand, Oliver Lincoln III took the lift to the top floor and stepped into the control center. Banks of radar, LADAR, and SpectraWav equipment glowed from the consoles in power-conserve mode. The screens were lit, but the sweeps weren't active. Windows on four sides provided a 360-degree view of LincEnt and everything for miles beyond. The lights of Denver twinkled to the south, and overhead the summer sky was speckled with stars. He keyed the radio in his right hand.
" Vega One, LincEnt Control, do you read?"
"I read you five by five, Control."
"I'm in the tower now, Vega One. You are strictly VFR, okay? Proceed exactly as planned. Maintain your pattern until I call you."
"That's affirm, Oliver. Good luck."
"You, too, buddy. LincEnt Control out."
Oliver hung the radio on his belt and stared toward the parking apron two hundred yards away. The overhead night-lights reflected off the gleaming spacecraft parked there, and as Oliver watched, it began to move. It taxied for fifty yards, then turned onto the runway, facing west. For a moment it didn't move, but he heard the jets winding up. He saw the burners glowing, then suddenly with a roar that rattled the windows, twin gouts of flame stabbed out the back and the fighter began to roll. The building continued to shake as the SolarFighter gained speed, then the strobe lights began to rise, and the exhaust flames angled downward. Twenty seconds later the burners shut down, and Oliver lost the strobe lights as they mingled with distant lights in the mountains beyond.