The Big Thaw

by Donald Harstad

  Volont turned on him. “Of course not. The drums are likely empty and will be used to contain cash. So the fork-lift can move them quickly.” He spoke to Sally. “Tell the units to expect a section of wall to go with a minimal explosion. That we’ve been forewarned.”

  “CP to all units,” she broadcast, “we have been informed that the suspects intend to blow a hole in the bank wall. They say not to worry about anybody inside.”

  Well, that was to the point.

  “Tell Alpha Chase to have the fire department roll toward the bank,” said Volont, “and have a pumper go near the boat. Tell ’em not to cross the river road, but to stand by right close.”

  Sally did as she was told. Cool, calm. It was absolutely necessary for her to be that way. Any sign, even the slightest, of panic on the control net, and things could go to hell in a basket. As if they hadn’t already.

  “You were right about him needing money,” I said to Volont. “Looks like they’re going for the coins, as well.” I paused, waiting for a response. None came. “You’re going to have to tell me just why he’s in such goddamned desperate need of cash,” I said. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Greed” was all he said.

  “‘Greed’ my ass,” I replied. “He’s risking or threatening hundreds of people here. That’s not just greed. That’s a hell of a lot more than just greed.”

  “We’ve got activity at the boat,” said Hester, using her binoculars. “A stretch van is backing up to the riverbank.”

  We peered into the fog, and could just make out the van as it crossed the railroad track and stopped about ten feet from the river’s edge. There was no real riverbank there, but large chunks of rock had been used as riprap, with the paving running right to the water’s edge. The hull of the General Beauregard was about six feet from the paving. Some vague figures appeared—they must have gotten out of the van on the side away from us—pulled two sections of what looked like some sort of ramp from the rear, huddled over them, and then bridged the gap between the shore and the bow weather deck of the Beau. In the swirl of the fog, I thought I could make out a shadowy figure crouching near the van, with what looked like a shotgun.

  There was a lull in observable activity.

  “I can’t tell for sure, but I think I count a minimum of nine suspects that I actually saw get out of the van …” said Hester, in a monotone of concentration. “Plus at least three or four already on the boat, one per deck, probably more. Say … about”—and her voice began to pick up inflections again—“fifteen? Total, with a guess at the number in the van …”

  “At least,” said George.

  “And we’re … what, until reinforcements arrive?” We all looked at the roster. Counting the two local cops, we were nineteen.

  “Well, shit, we’ve got ’em outnumbered,” I said.

  “Easily,” said Volont.

  “What about the other boat agents?” asked George. “How many are working now?”

  “One,” said Hester. “Let me check where he is … shit … he should have headed toward the boat when the fire alarm went…”

  Harmon James, chief of security for the General Beauregard, came flying into the office, face red, and eyes wide.

  “Jesus Christ, they’ve stolen the boat!” He held up his little pocket walkie-talkie. “I don’t know who these people are, but they’re talking to me on my own radio!”

  The mystery voice was saying, “… like I said, your security people are all tied up right now …” and uttered a short laugh.

  He stopped waving his walkie-talkie and looked at the group of us. “Well, why aren’t you all doing something!”

  At that point there was a rolling, basso profundo boom that rattled the windows. We all looked at the boat, and there was nothing. But over at the bank… there was a large area of fog that was slowly turning reddish brown. “Wow! Uh, Alpha One has an explosion at the bank.”

  It took me a second. “That’s gotta be brick dust…”

  Sally was up on the normal fire frequency, talking to the Frieberg fire chief. “Negative, we have contact with the people in the bank and they will be fine. There are bank robbers in the bank, and there are … are … pirates on the boat. Just get close and stand by.”

  George and I both said, “‘Pirates’?” at the same time.

  “Well, what would you call them? Boat robbers?” She was embarrassed, but not about to back down. She had a point.

  “They’re hauling stuff off the boat,” said Art.

  Sure as hell. The van had turned on its fog lights to light the way of two figures pushing a two-wheeled garden cart across the plank.

  “Tell me what you have onboard for security,” said Volont to James, the security chief.

  “Six security officers. Two female, on this shift. One of the officers is a trained emergency medical technician. Not armed. By law.” He looked disgusted. “Why, you want us to retake the boat?” He stared at Volont. “Who are you, anyway?”

  I held up our little diagram. “We have FBI snipers at four locations. The bad guys have hostages in the bank, and they have hostages on your boat. About five in the bank. How many hostages can we figure on the boat? Five hundred?”

  “Closer to six hundred right now, maybe six hundred and fifty.” He looked at the diagram, and went up in my estimation about three notches. “You knew about this yesterday, didn’t you?”

  “Not about the boat. Just the bank.”

  “That’s almost worse,” he said.

  “Sally get an ETA for the reinforcements, would you?” Hester pulled her service weapon, and checked the chamber. A Glock 9 mm. “I think we should act as soon as possible.”

  The phone rang. Sally put it on speaker. It was Gabriel.

  “So,” he said, “now you know how it’s going to go. We won’t hurt anyone unless it’s absolutely necessary. We will proceed according to our plan, and you can just watch.” I could tell he was grinning.

  Before Volont could answer him, I just said, “Well, okey-dokey.”

  There was a brief pause. “Who was that?”

  “Houseman,” I said. “Hello again.”

  “Ah, my favorite deputy! Haven’t seen you since you snooped around Borglan’s. I’m honored.”

  “Thanks.” The fuzziness in my photos must have been Gabriel hightailing it out of there. Confirmation of my paranoia…

  “I fear this won’t look good on your record, Deputy.” He had to be still grinning. “What brings you here?”

  “I’m here to arrest you for murder.”

  “Ah. A sad business. But business can be risky, sometimes. Let me speak with Super Agent Volont.”

  “I’m here,” said Volont.

  “I know you’re there, you sad bastard. I just hope you can remember what I’m going to tell you. Are you listening?”

  Silence.

  “I know you are. So. We will leave the boat, first. Well, most of us. One or two of us will stay behind. For a while. Long enough to ensure you don’t do something silly when the rest leave the bank.” He paused. “Are you getting this?”

  Volont wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of an answer. “I am,” I said.

  “Well, I don’t give a fuck about you. You’re just a deputy in Nowhere County. Agent Volont’s the one who’s important here. Aren’t you?”

  Believe it or not, Volont sort of brightened up at that. “I’ve taken down all you’ve said.”

  “Then pay even closer attention to this. We are in constant communication between each other. If my men from the bank, or from the boat, are followed, the boat goes down. With all the passengers.”

  “Got it,” said Volont.

  “Good day,” said Gabriel, and the conversation was over.

  “And who the fuck was that?” asked James, of boat security.

  We kind of told him.

  Our radios came to life again.

  “CP, Alpha Foot’s over by the boat, now. We’re in a good position for the van.”

/>   “CP, Alpha One has a clear shot at the pilothouse, if you need it. We and the top of the boat are in lighter fog…”

  They sounded very professional. Well, they should have. They were. And that got me thinking about professional versus amateur. Us versus them, as it were. We were pros. Even us deputies from “Nowhere County.” I have to admit, that pissed me off. Besides, there were about a half-dozen deputies from “Nowhere County” on the way. Along with several state troopers and a state TAC team. And a federal TAC unit in a Huey Resources. A bunch of ’em.

  “Hey?” I interrupted at least two conversations. “Listen up. We’re pros, right?”

  “We don’t need a pep talk,” snapped Art.

  “Just think about it for a second. Who are these people Gabriel is using for his troops? Think about it.”

  “So?” Art was having none of this.

  “He’s got one guy in the bank who knows explosives, right?”

  “At least one,” said George.

  “I’d bet one,” I said. “Maybe two on the boat, but for sure one. That’s three sharp dudes out of fifteen. Who are the rest of them? Amateurs he’s picked up. Nobodies, not when it comes to this stuff.”

  “They seem to be doing pretty well so far,” said George.

  “But they haven’t encountered any resistance. All the real troops we have are being held on a tight leash. Gabriel counts on that. He knows nobody wants a hostage hurt, so he’s betting one hundred percent that he gets a cakewalk, courtesy of us. Right?”

  “But, Carl,” said Hester, “he’s right. We can’t risk a hostage. Especially with Gabriel on the boat. He will do the deed, and we know that.”

  “Think this way. He’s got, what, three guns, two or three drivers at the bank, right? That’s six of them, with five questionables, against four to six really professional, really capable FBI TAC team members.” I looked around. “So, we got ’em outclassed at the bank. Just tell our people there to take out the drivers of the trucks as they leave. We already know he isn’t going to leave any of his people behind at the bank. Right? No point.”

  “But the boat is full of people …”

  “Right. But look. We hit the trucks as they leave. Nobody at the boat can see the people at the bank. Not in this fog. So, what do we have there? We shoot, and anybody left alive in the truck either has to sit in the driver’s seat and get himself shot, jump off the unit, or hunker down in the damned thing and hide. Piece of cake. We can scarf them up.”

  “Pointless,” said Volont. “That just leaves six hundred or more people on the boat.”

  “But, unless Gabriel stays behind on the boat himself, if his peons hear that we just took off six of their finest, what are they going to do? Sink the boat? For what purpose? It’s tied up at the fuckin’ pier, for God’s sake. All the passengers have to do is walk off!”

  “We always figure seventeen feet under the bottom,” said James. “That would swamp the oh-one deck, so all the passengers and crew would have to go to the second and upper deck. That could take some time.”

  “But not enough for her to turn over, is there?”

  “No, I don’t think so … look, let me get one of the captains here. He lives just up the street. Five minutes, and he can answer all your questions.” He picked up one of the phones.

  “Anyway,” I said, “he can’t sink her instantly. To do that, he’d have to open up the whole bottom. Boom. Probably blow the boat right out of the water if he did that, and he’d kill and injure lots of people. Including the members of his own team. Even himself.”

  “We can’t count on that.” But Volont was coming around.

  “I think we can,” said George. “He’s not bluffing. But he’ll sink her slowly, because he has to. I mean, fifteen minutes, even … right? Getaway time …”

  “That’s what I think,” I said. “And with them tied up at the pier for the winter months, all they have to do is walk off. What I’m saying is that I think it’s a risk we might be able to take. With the shock effect of taking out the trucks as they leave the bank.”

  “Well, we better hurry,” said Hester, “whatever we do. I do know that those little bastards are about as busy as they can get, moving that money into the trucks. We aren’t going to have much more time, and we need the fog on our side for a while. I don’t know how long that stuff will last.”

  Sally informed us that the chopper with the TAC team would be above Frieberg in two minutes. They reported zero visibility really near us, but could land on the bridge deck, which was above the fog ceiling.

  Volont had been getting hold of himself gradually, since Gabriel’s first call. He began to speak with his old decisiveness.

  “Have them set down on the bridge.” He indicated the playground that had been built for the kids who came with the gamblers. Summer only. “A two-man sniper team to the bridge ramp where they can command the best exit from the bank. Four to the boat. Have Alpha Chase pick ’em up. Leave the rest with the chopper.” He smiled. “Wouldn’t want anybody to steal our Huey.”

  “I think they might be done at the boat,” said Hester. “We’re gonna need a decision pretty soon …”

  I really thought that Volont was ready to take out the trucks. I really did. And he might have, if Gabriel hadn’t had another little surprise for us.

  Twenty-five

  Sunday, January 18, 1998, 1221

  They’re pullin’ their ramp away from the boat,” said Hester. “I counted seven suspects coming off with the last load. They’re all getting in the van.”

  Suddenly, there was a loud, double-cracking sound. It was accompanied by what looked to be a momentary ripple in the fog all around the General Beauregard. Weird sight.

  “Jesus!” said Art. “They’re sinking it!”

  “No … no … no, they’re not! Not yet, anyway.” Hester pointed, but I couldn’t make out what she was looking at. Not at first. But, then, as I watched, I could see the bow of the Beauregard slowly pull away from the pier, as the boat herself slipped slightly sternward, with the current. They had blown off the bollards and cleats from both ends of the boat. The thick cables attaching her to the pier, with no grip on the boat, slowly slid off her open weather decks and dropped into the icy waters of the Mississippi.

  “Where can she go?” I asked.

  James watched, horrified. “There’s sort of an ice-free area around the hull… warm water from bilge pumps, stuff like that. She can go a ways out into the water, but she’ll hit the ice in a little ways, and stop, I think…”

  As he spoke, the stern of the General Beauregard disappeared into the fog, while she came around by the bow. She stopped, her bow about 100 feet from the riverbank, and about 90 feet from the pier. Out of reach. No engines to propel her.

  Art said something that, in other circumstances, would have had me rolling on the floor. “That rotten bastard really does think of everything.”

  “It’s time to do something,” said Volont. “We can’t let him call all the shots…” He moved Sally aside, and picked up her mike. “Alpha Mobile, get down to the intersection and block off the street before the bank. Alpha Chase, do the same on the cross street and keep that stretch van where it is.” He fumbled for a second. “How the hell do I talk to the fire trucks on this thing?”

  Sally pressed one of the frequency keys.

  “Fire units, bring a truck into the exit from the bank parking lot and stay there. Use any auxiliary light you have to shine on the building. Bring a truck to the boat landing, to the dock, and park there and try to keep the public away. Shine your floodlights toward the boat.” He looked at Sally again. “Now the police cars?”

  She pushed another button.

  “We need some units to block the bridge approach, some to surround the bank.” He took a deep breath. “We need three or four squad cars to block the road north and south of Frieberg. And Twenty-nine, Twenty-nine, you go to the bank and provide support for the fire truck.”

  That was good. That was very
good. The north-south road through town was bordered by bluffs for two or three miles each way. No side roads. No turnoff except to a vacant summer dock area to the south. No way to go around a roadblock.

  And 29 now had something useful to do.

  Actually, it looked like it was just a matter of whether or not the cop cars could get here before the bank trucks were ready to pull out with all the money.

  I watched Volont give Sally back her microphone. “Try for some ETAs for us, see when the cavalry is going to get here,” I said. “And make sure Conception County has the other end of the bridge blocked.”

  Her answer told me she was still in top form. “Get me some coffee, would ya?”

  I did.

  What was happening now was that Gabriel’s little army was actually being shown the opposition for the first time. We should begin to find out what they were made of real soon. I was betting on jelly, at least for the majority.

  The growl of an engine, and the sound of the chopper blades as the Huey settled down on the bridge deck was a nice effect. We couldn’t see them, of course. Neither could Gabriel and his people. But the noise was unmistakable.

  None of us could see anything moving or changing at the bank, but at the boat, the headlights of the stretch van moved slowly up from the dock. Apparently, they saw the fire truck and the two TAC team agents from Alpha Chase blocking the road and the agents taking cover with their M-16s. The stretch van simply stopped. They didn’t appear to have taken this development into consideration. Just what we intended, and just as I thought. Amateurs. Finally, I thought, things are beginning to move in a direction we’ve chosen.

  Volont spoke into his secure radio. “This is Volont. If the van advances, you are authorized to use deadly force to prevent its leaving.”

  The van promptly backed up.

  “What the hell…” was Hester’s first reaction.

  “I’ll be a son of a bitch,” said George.

  Art comprehended last. “They can hear us!”

  Not only hear, but understand. They’d cracked the scrambled code of the secure radios.

  “Well, now we know what they really needed all the computers for,” I said. Another fucking surprise. Did his own download from the code banks. Slick. “Where did the FBI get those secure radios?”