A second gunman had Go-Go-Randy’s microphone in hand at center track. “Everyone, do not move. Stay quiet. No one gets hurt.”
People cried, yelling and running around the outskirts of the space, looking for an exit that didn’t exist.
“Hey. Hey!” The gunman at the microphone pointed the rifle at the ceiling and shot off a quick succession of rounds.
People screamed, and even Tanya yelped, covering her head.
“Listen to me. Everyone move to the back of the building, slow and calm,” Trigger Happy barked.
The crowd didn’t move, paralyzed by fear.
Tanya eyed the nearest gunman, who at least appeared more reasonable then his counterpart. She could probably get in past the gun, but the bulky vest with wires and suspicious cylinders attached to the unorthodox garment didn’t look like something he’d picked up at his local sporting goods store.
“Come on, guys, everyone move back to the locker room,” Tanya said quietly to her teammates. She grabbed the hands of the two closest girls and pushed off for the back of The Warehouse.
Her phone was in the locker room, and if she could get to that she could text Cole. Hell, she could take pictures, send them to him or whoever, even take video or leave the line open. That’s what people in cop shows did, and though she knew it wasn’t all correct, some of that had to be helpful.
Trigger Happy continued to demand people move, and slowly the crowd condensed, curling in on itself and compressing into the back half of the space. Tanya skated into the locker room and found not derby girls, but a cluster of ten people hiding in the shadows.
“It’s okay, it’s just me,” Tanya whispered to them. She went straight to her gear and stripped out of her skates while putting in a call to Cole, crossing her fingers he answered.
“Tanya?” Cole’s shocked voice was the best sound she’d ever heard.
“Hi, not sure how long I can talk.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. There are three men with guns and, I don’t know for sure but I think they have bombs strapped to these vests they’re wearing.”
“I know,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous note.
“You know? How do you—? The call.” Cold, hard dread froze her veins. “You were called in for these guys.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, what can I do?” She shoved her feet into shoes and began looking around the locker room for something, anything.
“Do whatever they tell you to. Let me know what they’re doing. Most of all, stay safe.”
“Would pictures or video help?”
“Yes, but take care of yourself first. Tanya?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Tears pricked her eyes. “I love you too. I’m sorry we were fighting.”
“Me too, babe. I’m going to get you out of there.” He sounded so certain, but if these men were out to make a statement, there wasn’t anything they could do to stop them. Which meant they had to get people out of The Warehouse before the gunmen decided how they would go down in their blaze of glory. “Now promise me you will stay safe.”
How could she do that?
“Cole—”
The door banged open, spilling light on the huddled group. Tanya shoved her phone into her shorts before anyone could see it.
“What you doing in here?” Trigger Happy filled the doorway, his gun leveled at her. His eyes were wide, darting around the locker room, and sweat beaded his brow. She was struck by his very normal appearance. She would never have been able to pick him out of a crowd as a terrorist. “Get out,” he yelled.
The group closest to the door scurried out. As much as she knew she should follow them, Tanya refused to run from these men. She stood calmly and exited the locker room under the watchful gaze of her captor. The door slammed shut behind her.
“No one goes in here,” the man yelled.
It was shocking how quiet The Warehouse was. People were sitting on the ground, packed tightly against the back of the building.
Tanya’s teammates stuck out as a cluster of black and red. She patted her shorts, making sure her phone was still there. One downside to the spandex shorts was no pockets.
“Excuse me,” she muttered and began picking her way toward her teammates.
“Everyone stay calm and be quiet. We are all three wearing explosive devices. You do anything heroic and these will explode.” The speaker had changed to the man she’d dubbed Mr. Reasonable, probably a better fit for convincing the hostages to play along with their wishes. Unlike Trigger Happy, he spoke without an accent.
“Tango, what are you doing?” Mallory whisper-spoke at her as she neared the group.
Tanya waded into the middle of the cluster, everyone shifting to make room for her, and sank to the ground next to the general manager, Aaliyah. Tanya dug her phone out and her heart fell. Her call had been disconnected, but she had a text.
Call dropped. You okay?
She texted back as fast as she could.
Yes. Everyone at back of building sitting down. Told they have bomb vests.
Tanya hit send and clicked the camera app. The three men were clustered at the end of the track between their hostages and the main exit. They kept glancing at the crowd.
“Don’t do that,” Aaliyah snapped, grabbing Tanya’s wrist.
Tanya jerked back. “My husband is a cop and he’s outside.”
She lifted her knees and used them to block her phone, zooming in as close as she could and snapping one picture after another, half turning out fuzzy and useless, but the other half might do some good. She hurriedly uploaded them to a file sharing site both she and Cole used to back up their phones.
Pictures uploading. U know there’s only 1 other entrance on L side of bldg?
Cole’s reply was instantaneous.
Don’t do anything stupid. Going to get u out. Got pictures. ILY. Stay. Safe.
She texted back.
ILY2.
The sound of a helicopter beat at the roof, and in the distance sirens lit up the evening. The sun was setting, but those on the inside could tell that only by the darkening opaque windows at the top of The Warehouse.
Her phone vibrated and she almost yelped in surprise.
Babe, what’s the layout like inside?
Tanya glanced around, trying to find words to describe it—but she’d just downloaded a new program to take panoramic pictures. She hadn’t used it yet. She flipped through her applications until she found the desired app. It required a user name and log-in. For a moment she blanked. She needed to take a damn picture, not share it with five hundred people she didn’t know. Still, she rushed through the sign-up process and fumbled into the user interface. It mirrored her existing camera app, so she merely pointed it at one side of the building, clicked the red circle and slowly panned a half circle. The image was a little smudged in places and odd, but it showed everything.
Again, she uploaded it and texted Cole to let him know.
“Hey, hey!”
Tanya’s chin snapped up to where one of the gunmen grabbed a young man by the shoulder and shook him. He yanked his cell phone out of his hand and threw it on the ground, shattering it into little pieces. He pushed the man into the crowd where he landed on his friends.
Trigger Happy lifted the muzzle of his weapon toward the ceiling. People whimpered and at least one person screamed. “No more phones. I see a phone, I shoot you. Do you understand? You have been warned.”
What’s going on in there, babe?
Picture uploading. They say no more phs.
Can they see the side door? Looks like the bleachers might block their view.
That was brilliant!
Aaliyah snatched the phone from Tanya’s hands and shoved it into her pocket. She stuck her finger under Tanya’s nose, a wild, fearful look in her gaze. “You will not put us in danger.”
Tanya wanted to pull the woman’s hair out. Didn’t she know that if they sat t
here doing nothing they were all going to die?
But Aaliyah wasn’t born in America. It took Tanya a moment to remember she was from an African country and had fled with her sisters. Because of the violence in her home country.
Tanya scooted closer. “We need to try to get people out while we can.”
Aaliyah shook her head. “No. No, we sit here until they get what they want and let us go.”
The girls nearest them tried to shush her, but Tanya wasn’t having it. Their position was dire, and there wasn’t time to sit back and do nothing.
“It doesn’t work that way. My husband is a police officer and they’ve been searching for these men for a week. They have bombs and their goal is to hurt people. That’s all they want, Aaliyah.”
“What do you know? You’ve lived a comfortable life here, in America—”
“But my job has taken me all over the world. Into some of the worst parts. They don’t want money. They want to kill people.”
“I said no—more—phones.”
Tanya turned back to the situation unfolding. A large, built man shoved up to his feet and lunged for Trigger Happy, who was holding what she assumed was the man’s phone. Tanya’s heart leapt into her throat.
No. No. No!
Trigger Happy backpedaled and brought his rifle up—and fired a shot into the man’s stomach. The hostage stumbled forward before crumpling. The two other gunmen grabbed their comrade and seemed to be as alarmed and as shocked as the rest of them. They hauled him back, putting room between them and the fallen man, as if they could escape the whole situation.
All around her people shrank back, screaming and crying.
“Oh my god.” Aaliyah gasped.
The side door to The Warehouse banged open and people began rushing out, jumping to their feet and fleeing. Someone hit her from the side, another person kicked her. She got to her feet just to avoid being trampled.
The derby girls were all on skates and at a disadvantage in the crush of bodies.
There was so much yelling and screaming. Through it all she thought she could hear the gunmen yell, but couldn’t make out what was being said.
More gunshots rang out and the screaming went higher. Suddenly people were running in the opposite direction.
Tanya stumbled forward and tripped over something. She couldn’t get her foot free and pitched forward. Months of roller derby training kicked in and she rolled as she fell, hitting the ground with a grunt.
And stared into the vacant, empty gaze of someone she’d never met before.
* * * * *
Cole stared at his text messaging application.
No new messages.
“Westling?” O’Neil called out over the din in the command center.
Cole shook his head and his stomach sank. The taste of bile coated his mouth and it was becoming hard to breathe.
He could feel the gaze of the officers closest him hit and skitter away. They were busy filtering through the many 9-1-1 calls coming from people inside The Warehouse, but they all knew Cole’s point of contact was different. It was an officer’s worst nightmare.
What was going on in there?
Why wasn’t Tanya replying?
A single blast stilled all motion inside the trailer. Radios and phones chattered in the physical silence before erupting.
“Single shot fired,” the radio control officer sent out over the channel. It echoed back from every officer’s unit.
The brass leapt into motion, gesticulating and calling orders, putting officers into motion. Cole whirled around and charged through the door. He needed to be closer to Tanya. Muted screams tapered off from inside the building. He broke into a jog and stopped only because of the barricade line. He stared at the metal front of the building as if it would open its maw and spit out his wife.
For all his training, for all the missions and people he’d rescued, this time he was helpless. Forcing his way into the building would do no good. Not yet. Not until they knew more, and with so many people inside with phones, cameras and video, they had a wealth of information. And some of the best was from his wife.
Tanya.
Cole paced the length of the perimeter around the front of the building, back and forth. Officers who’d served alongside him for years, some for more than a decade, glanced at him with brows drawn low, a look of pity on their faces.
So they knew.
He clenched his fists and found a spot at the corner of the building behind a SWAT SUV much like his. The scenery didn’t change, the sounds died down and the speculation began.
Cole knew this routine. Their attempt to find a direct line in and get the gunmen on the phone had failed. One of the B.E.A.R. armored trucks slowly moved into position across from the main entrance to The Warehouse. A cluster of brass and a negotiator Cole had worked with a few times were making their way from the staging area where the command center was located. It was time to roll out the loudspeakers and start broadcasting their negotiations for the whole district to hear, but that couldn’t be helped.
Overhead helicopters were circling, and not all of them were police department issue. News agencies would be foaming at the mouth for a piece of the action. Cole just hoped things remained boring enough that the only story they had to tell was about a bunch of people going home late for dinner.
Round after round of gunfire pierced the relative quiet. Screams blossomed. Officers hunkered down, searching for the source. The screams grew louder.
“SWAT, Alpha Team, prepare for entry,” dispatch blared in Cole’s ear.
Except he was off the entry team.
The side door banged open and people ran out, some sprinting, others limping. Cole grabbed a shield left at the back of the SUV and bolted for the civilians. Other officers were jumping to provide cover and direct the scared people to safety. They poured out, one after the other. He saw one woman shoved to the ground, and at least three people behind her kicked or stepped on her.
Cole shoved through the stream of people and helped the woman to her feet. He used the shield to break the press of people around them and led her behind the perimeter line.
More gunfire.
Cole hefted the shield and moved back into position. Some of the people being rushed past now had blood and gunshot wounds.
It was now or never. A hostage situation with this many people and possible explosives was not going to get better. They had to get in there and take the gunmen down before more people got hurt.
The tide of people stopped as suddenly has it had begun.
The side door to The Warehouse slammed shut, but not before a metal cylinder landed on the pavement.
“Bomb!”
“Take cover!”
“Bomb!”
Cole whirled around and dove for the nearest vehicle. He vaulted over the hood of a car. He held his breath along with every other officer up and down the perimeter.
And nothing happened.
Shouting and crying from the direction the civilians had been herded was the only noise. The radio chatter was that Teda was back on her way, and Officer Jameson was suiting up in a bombproof suit.
Cole itched to search through the civilians and see if Tanya was among them. Hell, he wasn’t active duty on scene. He stashed the shield near the SUV he’d borrowed it from and jogged toward the shopping center. Sure enough, behind the line of stores and across the street was a makeshift triage center and the hostages corralled between two lines of officers. They’d comb them for leads, gather information and formulate a new plan.
Fewer than Cole would have expected had survived.
He checked his phone, but there were still no new messages.
Something had to be wrong.
The screen lit up, but the name was a fellow officer.
“Hello?”
“Sergeant Westling, I’m at the staging area. There’s a woman here who has your wife’s cell phone.”
Cole’s blood turned to ice. “I’ll be right there.”
He hung up and changed course. The staging area was abuzz with new activity, but right now he cared about only one thing.
Tanya, and why she no longer had her cell phone.
Cole recognized Aaliyah immediately. Tanya and the general manager of the Derby Dames had never seen eye to eye. He approached her slowly, giving her a once-over. She was dressed in jeans and a Dames t-shirt, black with the league logo on the front.
He nodded at the officer but directed his gaze toward Aaliyah. “Where’s my wife?”
“Last I saw her she was still inside.” She offered Tanya’s smart phone to him.
Cole snatched the phone from her. “Why the fuck do you have this?”
Aaliyah’s hands balled into fists and she leaned forward as she spoke. “She was taking pictures. Those men said not to use phones. That’s why they started shooting. She was going to get us all killed.”
That was Tanya, but she was smart enough not to get herself killed.
Cole wanted to shake the woman, but it would do no good.
What he needed was Tanya, safe and in his arms.
Stay safe.
Chapter Eleven
Tanya held her hands up.
This was the second time today she’d found herself staring down the barrel of a gun. It was a bad habit she wanted to break.
“Back against the wall! Move. Now,” Mr. Reasonable shouted.
Tanya hadn’t made it more than thirty yards to the door before she got cut off. The shooter advanced on the door, shaking what looked like a pipe bomb at the crowd. Most people shrank back, some made a final, mad dash for the door. The shooter tossed the bomb out the door and slammed it shut. He put his back against it and directed his gun at the crowd.
Tanya backed up slowly, glancing around for anyone she recognized.
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