Opening Moves pbf-6

by Steven James

  I thanked him for helping me find the slaughterhouse, got directions from dispatch, and took off for First Capital Bank in Wales.

  Radar had done as Tod’s kidnapper had demanded.

  Once he was inside the bank, once he had the three bank employees and two customers restrained, he’d called the cable news stations and instructed them to send their news crews immediately, to have their cameras ready, because they would need to catch what was going to happen at 4:25.

  And now, already, the news crews and law enforcement were starting to arrive. SWAT was setting up a perimeter around the parking lot.

  The phone rang. Earlier Tod’s kidnapper had told him to expect a call and Radar picked up.

  The man let him speak to his son, who was terrified, crying, then he warned Radar again not to let him down. “You would not want to see what Tod’s going to look like if you don’t do what I said. I’ll be watching.”

  Then before hanging up, he told Radar what had happened beneath the barn.

  Convinced the man was telling the truth, Radar lowered the receiver and tried to steel himself to actually do what would be necessary to save his son’s life.

  Ralph stepped out of his car.

  Sheriff’s deputies, local police, and a SWAT team had taken position around the bank. News crews from four different cable stations were setting up remotes just beyond the police tape. More news vans were on their way.

  He looked around, then asked a lieutenant who appeared to be calling the shots, “Who was in charge here?”

  “I’m in charge,” the man answered sharply. “Who are you?”

  “Were.”

  “Were?”

  “You were in charge.” Ralph flipped out his creds. “Hand me that megaphone.”

  91

  4:14 p.m.

  11 minutes until the gloaming

  Radar heard Ralph calling to him through a megaphone, commanding him to exit the bank, but he ignored the agent’s orders.

  Out the window, Radar could see more emergency vehicles pulling in. SWAT and local police were there in full force. He recognized the Flight for Life helicopter from the Milwaukee Regional Medical Center hovering overhead.

  He turned and looked at the five hostages who were lying facedown on the floor, their hands and feet secured with the plastic cuffs he’d brought with him.

  The phone rang. Radar stared at it, wondering if it was Tod’s kidnapper again.

  He picked up.

  “What are you doing, Radar?” It was Ralph.

  “He’s got my son. The guy from this week. He’s got Tod.”

  “He was the one on the phone, wasn’t he? The call you wanted me to trace?”

  “Yes. Did you get it?”

  “No. Just so you know, Gayle and Angie, they’re fine. They’re at the station. They’re safe.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Is Tod…I mean, do you know if…?”

  “I talked to him. He wasn’t hurt, but he was crying. Scared.”

  A pause. “What did he ask you to do, Radar? Just take the bank? If that’s it, then it’s done. Let those people go.”

  “He said they need to stay here.”

  “Until when?”

  “Just get Pat over here.”

  “He’s on his way.”

  “And don’t have SWAT move in, Ralph. This is my kid we’re talking about.”

  Another pause. “I won’t. But just be easy, bro. Do you know anything at all about the guy who took Tod?”

  “He called me Radar.”

  “What?”

  “He knows me somehow, but I couldn’t recognize his voice. I’ve been thinking about it, I have no idea who he could be.”

  “Someone from the department?”

  “I don’t know. But he didn’t attract attention when he dropped off that package for me in the lobby.”

  “I’ll do some checking on guys who fit our suspect’s description. Pat will be here in a couple minutes. In the meantime, don’t do anything stupid.”

  92

  4:21 p.m.

  4 minutes until the gloaming

  I screeched to a stop alongside the police barricade. I didn’t want the bloody dressings caught on camera, so I tugged them off and left them on the seat.

  Fortunately, my jacket covered most of the blood, but as I stepped out of the car, I zipped it up anyway. Two officers met me and, as television cameras followed us, hustled me to a SWAT van the size of a small mobile home.

  Inside, I found Ralph, the SWAT commander, as well as Lieutenant Thorne, Lyrie, and a female officer from internal affairs. What she was doing here right now was anyone’s guess.

  “Heard you were shot,” Thorne said concernedly. “You alright?” Everyone else was asking the same question with their eyes.

  “Yeah.” I indicated toward the bank. “What do we know?”

  “Are you sure you’re-?”

  “I’m fine.” I waited for the update. Ralph spoke up: “As far as we can tell, he’s got three bank employees, two or three customers.”

  “Do we have a video feed of the surveillance cameras?”

  “Not yet. SWAT’s working on it.”

  I saw two phones and headsets. “Who’s talking with him?”

  “For now, me. Radar mentioned that the guy who took his son, he called him by his nickname. Called him Radar.”

  “What? He knows him?”

  Ralph shook his head. “We don’t know. But right now we need to move. He told me you have to be in there by 4:25. I don’t know why, but he’s really sketchy right now and I don’t want to push things.”

  My gun had jammed earlier, but Radar didn’t know that and I guessed he wouldn’t want me coming in armed. I unholstered my weapon, handed it to Ralph. “Let’s go.”

  “You need a vest.”

  “He’s my partner. He’s not going to shoot me.”

  “You go in there,” Ralph said firmly, “you’re going in wearing a vest.”

  This wasn’t the time to argue and I didn’t want to waste what few precious minutes we had.

  I couldn’t help but cringe as I slumped off the jacket.

  Everyone in the van stared at the blood covering half of my chest and most of my sleeve. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” I assured them, even though it hurt like it was. I picked up a vest and began to put it on, trying not to move my left arm at all, but it wasn’t possible and pain chugged through me again, this time, actually making me dizzy.

  I had to stop, close my eyes, and try to funnel the pain into another place.

  Ralph carefully helped me into the vest. When he was done, I pointed to his voluminous FBI jacket tossed on a chair in the corner. “I don’t want to walk past those cameras with my shirt covered with blood and I don’t want to alarm the hostages. My jacket’s gonna be too hard to get into. Let me use that thing.” There was still a dark stain on my pant leg where I’d been stabbed with the scalpel, but I could deal with that.

  He grabbed the jacket and helped me ease it on. “Congratulations,” he said, trying to keep things light. “You’ve been promoted.”

  “Thanks.” I zipped up. “Tonto.”

  Using one of the portable phones in the SWAT van, Ralph put a call through to the bank and then nodded for me. “We’re a go. He’s waiting for you. Be careful in there.”

  “I will.”

  Leaving the van, I held out my hands to show that I wasn’t armed. With the gunshot wound, it hurt terribly to move that left arm, let alone hold it to the side, but I did the best I could. Trying to conceal my limp, I crossed the parking lot.

  The walk seemed to take forever.

  I made it to the door.

  Paused.

  Then laid my hand against the glass and pressed it open.

  93

  4:25 p.m.

  The gloaming

  Five hostages on the floor, all restrained. Radar stood beside the counter, his weapon out, a wild, flighty look in his eyes.

  “Get away from
the door, Pat.”

  I edged in, let the door close behind me. “I heard about Tod. I’m sorry.”

  He eyed me. “You’re limping.”

  “I got him. The killer. The guy from Ohio and Illinois.”

  “Basque?”

  “Yeah.”

  His eyes were on my leg. “Did he shoot you?”

  “Yes,” I told him honestly. I didn’t clarify that it was in the shoulder. “Listen, Radar, I’m unarmed. You can lower your weapon.”

  He didn’t. But he didn’t pat me down either. He believed me.

  He waved the gun toward the bank’s office. It had a glass wall that offered a view of the lobby, and I imagined he wanted to go in there so we could talk privately, but also so he could keep an eye on the hostages.

  We entered, he closed the door and told me to stand on the other side of the desk. As I angled across the room, he kept the gun trained on me, then ran a hand through his hair. “He’s gonna kill Tod, Pat.”

  “As far as we know, he hasn’t killed anyone. Basque was the one who-”

  “No.” Radar shook his head. “You don’t get it. I talked to him a few minutes ago. This time he’s serious. He’s gonna do it. He told me what his father made him do to people he brought to their barn when he was a kid. He wasn’t making it up, Pat. I could tell.” He smiled oddly and I could see that Ralph had been right: Radar was losing it. “Gut instincts. Intuition. Remember? That’s me.”

  “Calm down for a sec. Think this through. How did he get that package to you at HQ?”

  “Dropped it off in the lobby. No one noticed him.”

  “Ralph said he called you Radar, and we know he entered the department without being questioned about why he was there. Do you have any idea who he could be?”

  He shook his head. “I couldn’t recognize his voice. It’s gotta be someone on the force. He said he’s gonna be watching.”

  I tried to think of who in the department fit Colleen’s description of her abductor. A few people came to mind, but then I realized I needed to be mentally here, in this moment, helping talk Radar down. I could figure out who the kidnapper was once I didn’t have a gun aimed at me.

  However, as hard as I tried, thoughts of the kidnapper’s demands, his crimes, his acts, his choice of locations, refused to leave me alone.

  The alley…the hardware store…the bank…

  No, no, no. It wasn’t just the locations we were talking about.

  It was the victims too.

  Konerak Sinthasomphone for Dahmer.

  Bernice Worden for Gein.

  And now Captain James Lutz for the Oswalds…

  I looked through the glass window at the hostages lying on the floor in the bank lobby. “It wasn’t just the bank, was it? That’s not what he wants?”

  “No.” Radar’s voice cracked.

  “Tie the stories together. His and the Oswalds’. That’s the way it ends, isn’t it? That’s why he wanted the media here. He wants you to kill a cop, just like they killed Lutz.”

  He had tears in his eyes. He nodded.

  It was hard to get the next question out, but the answer might help us narrow things down. “Did he ask for me by name?”

  Radar shook his head. “I chose you. Because you’re my partner, because I knew you’d understand.”

  I thought of what the kidnapper had done to Colleen Hayes, what he’d been in the process of doing to Adele Westin when Ralph and I arrived in the train yard. He was escalating and I didn’t even want to think about what he might have in mind for Radar’s son.

  I didn’t doubt for a second that he would do terrible, terrible things to the boy if his demands were not met.

  Using my good arm, I reached for the zipper.

  Radar leveled the gun at me. “Don’t move, Pat!”

  “I’m unarmed, Radar. And if you’re going to kill me, you don’t need to worry about me taking off this jacket.”

  He was breathing rapidly, his hand shaking. Logic wasn’t in play here, emotion was. And that’s what was going to determine everything.

  “I have body armor on,” I told him. “I’m going to take it off, okay? That’s all.”

  “Why?” He was obviously scared, desperate, and not thinking clearly. And he had a gun-a very bad combination.

  “Just relax, Radar.” I was able to keep my voice reasonably steady, but my heart was jackhammering in my chest, my thoughts whipping and twisting around each other. It had happened to me just a handful of times in my life, in those moments when death seemed to be on my heels and I actually had enough time to think about it-contrary to what people tell you, the “fight-or-flight instinct” doesn’t always kick in; instead, you become unnaturally calm. It’s almost frightening how rational you can be. It doesn’t make sense, but a sweep of clarity, of perspective, comes over you.

  “I believe you that he’s serious…” I’d lost a lot of blood and I was starting to feel dizzy. I wasn’t sure how long I could stand here. “That he’ll kill Tod unless you do it.”

  As awkward and painful as it was, I managed to slide out of the oversized Windbreaker. The vest covered my chest, but Radar could obviously see my blood-soaked sleeve. He stared at me, shocked. “It’s just the shoulder,” I told him. “I’m okay. Do you really believe he’ll let Tod live? If you do what he said?”

  “I don’t know. Your shoulder, man, your leg, it’s…I don’t know-but I can’t take the chance.” He was definitely in a bad, bad, place. Confused, terrified, and I wanted so badly to help him, but I also didn’t want to die here today.

  I unsnapped the bulletproof vest. Getting it off was not going to be easy or feel very good at all, but-

  “Stop, Pat. When I said you’d understand, I meant it.”

  I paused with the vest. “I know.”

  He didn’t go on right away. “I’m not going to shoot you.” His voice held a deep, unsettling resolve. “I need you.”

  “You need me?”

  “To be there for Tod and Angie. To help Gayle with-”

  “What are you-no, Radar.”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “If I shoot you, we’re both gone. I’d be in prison and you’d be-”

  “Radar, stop. We’ll find Tod, okay? We just need to-”

  “Quiet.”

  I wanted to rush him, disarm him, but he was on the other side of the desk and I’d never be able to move quickly enough to get there before he could do it, not with my injured leg.

  “You need to show ’em,” he said. “Prove it. That’s what he told me. Take my body outside. Hold it up for the cameras. That’s how it ends. All caught on tape. Just like the Oswalds-”

  “Don’t even talk like that, Radar.”

  “It’s all gotta be on TV. It’s gotta be live.”

  I made a move toward him, but froze when he raised the gun and pointed it at his own chest. “Don’t come any closer, Pat.”

  Stop him, Pat. Come on, you have to-

  “You tell them I love them,” he said. “That’s why I did it, okay? My kids, Gayle, because-”

  An idea came to me. I blurted it out, hoping, praying he would listen and wouldn’t fire.

  But he closed his eyes, angled the gun toward his heart.

  “Radar, no-!”

  94

  Ralph was inside the SWAT van when the phone rang. He picked up the receiver, listened, then announced through the radio to the team, “Do not fire! I repeat, do not fire! Whatever happens, hold your fire! He’s coming out.”

  Nods of acknowledgment, but everyone kept their guns trained on the bank’s entrance just the same.

  But it didn’t open.

  Stillness.

  A moment passed.

  Then another.

  Time stretched thin.

  And then the sharp sound of a gunshot rang from inside the building and cracked through the wire-tight surface of the day.

  “Hold your fire!” Ralph yelled again.

  Just one shot. That was it. Then all was still.

&
nbsp; The line had gone dead. Ralph punched in the bank’s number. Pat answered, his voice soft, grim. “Radar’s dead. The hostages are okay. Tell SWAT to lower their weapons. I’m coming out.”

  95

  Joshua had left the boy securely in the back of the moving truck where he’d parked it just across the street from the bank before any of this began.

  He’d stepped out of the cab to watch what was going on, and now stood just outside of the police perimeter, news crews all around him.

  Just a few moments ago he’d heard the gunshot.

  Now, along with everyone else, he stared anxiously at the door to see what would happen next.

  Earlier, when he first saw the man wearing the FBI jacket enter the bank, he’d been upset that they weren’t using a cop like he’d demanded, but then he recognized the face of the guy entering: Bowers. Why he was wearing an FBI jacket was beyond him, unless he was doing it for some jurisdictional reason. Joshua didn’t know, but it didn’t matter as long as he went in.

  Part of his demands included Radar carrying out the body, emerging from the front door for all the news cameras to catch the climax on film, just like the cameraman from WISN Channel 12 News had caught the chase and apprehension of the Oswalds back in 1994.

  And so, from just across the street, Joshua watched and waited for the story to come full circle at last.

  With my shoulder I couldn’t do it, couldn’t carry him. One of the hostages was a big guy, bigger even than me. After I freed him from the plastic cuffs, I had him pick up Radar’s body.

  Even though I had the FBI jacket on again, I knew that the SWAT team would be tweaked, looking for any movement, ready to fire, so as I nudged the front door open, I did so slowly, carefully, my arms to the side, hands out. “It’s over!” I yelled. “The hostages are okay.” I hesitated. I couldn’t help it. “Sergeant Walker is gone.”

  At least a dozen news cameras were aimed at me from across the street.

  I stepped aside and held the door open. The man who’d been a hostage and was now carrying Radar’s limp body, joined me outside. As I’d instructed him, he stayed stationary long enough to make sure the cameras caught the image of him standing there, just as the kidnapper had demanded.