Confused by Shadows

by Geonn Cannon

  She heard Hatcher downstairs beginning his spiel as she threw open the bank manager's office door. Torri Hodge was already on her feet, but froze when Lance brought her gun up. "Anybody else up here?"

  "No. No, just me."

  Lance gestured with her gun and the bank manager slipped past her. Lance took a moment to steady her breathing and then followed. On the ground floor, she saw the apparent occupants of the wild card news van parked outside. Two women—one she recognized as the reporter Lindsay Le and the other carrying a large camera—were being led out from behind the counter by Ares.

  #

  Craig Frost dipped a McNugget in sweet and sour sauce and popped the whole thing into his mouth. "You're so good at what you do, Lindsay," he said in a wavering falsetto. "I'd just love to one day be as good as you. Your talent and your beauty." He changed his voice slightly and said, "Oh, Sam, you're too much." He took a handful of fries and shoved them between his cheek and gums. He rolled his eyes and said, "Fucking love fest. Sickening."

  He was in the back of the Channel 10 News van, allegedly keeping an eye on the footage Samantha Ross was shooting. But he'd been on this fucking detail before, he knew what would happen. He would bust his ass trying to get everything right, then Lindsay and Samantha would come out, stroke each other's egos like mad, and redo it however they wanted. He was sick of it. If they were going to practically make out in front of him, the least they could do was actually make out.

  He glanced at the screens, just to make sure they were still filming properly, and dropped a sauce-covered nugget onto his shirt. "What the hell?"

  He spun his chair around and watched as a person in a business suit, face hidden by a white mask, thrust a gun at Lindsay. She covered her head with her arms and dropped down out of the camera shot.

  Frost fumbled with his cell phone as he tried to pull it from his pocket. He punched in a number and stared in disbelief as the phone rang.

  "911, what is your emergency."

  "Uh," he stammered. He was lost. He had never actually called 911 before. "Hi, yeah. This is Craig Frost, Action News 10...actually I'm just a production assistant, I'm not really...right, yeah, sorry. I think the Hyperion Bank is being robbed."

  He turned back in time to see one of the robbers, standing in a long hallway, pause and take off their mask. It was hard to tell if the robber was a man or a woman, but he was pretty sure it was a woman. "I got one of their faces on film, just now. Oh, my God..."

  The woman put her mask back on, turned her back to the camera, and jogged down the hall to the vault.

  #

  Interlude

  Tacoma, Washington

  Faye Mallory planned to ignore the ringing phone. She assumed it was Toni, assumed it would be a fight waiting to happen. She'd spent two weeks in Washington and had nothing to show for it. She was nearly broke again, exhausted but unable to sleep when she went to bed, and facing undeniable evidence that she had royally fucked up. And the phone would not shut up.

  People walking past her on the street turned and glared at her ringing phone, as if ugly looks would make her answer it. She was sitting on a bus stop bench near the courthouse, exhausted and weary from the chase. She was beaten and battered. Her clothes were dirty and wrinkled, but her maroon blouse was covered by a dark hoodie. Two years ago she was a fucking FBI agent, and now here she sat, on a bench outside a courthouse, listening to the ringing of her goddamn phone while people passing by figured she was a junkie waiting for a court appearance.

  She didn't know how it could have gotten so bad so fast. But she knew exactly who to blame.

  She finally fished the phone from her pocket, ready to stop self-flagellating and let someone else take over the job. She flipped the phone open and pressed it against her ear. "I'm sorry. I'll pay you back." Her voice was flat, lifeless, and it scared the small part of her that was still capable of feeling emotion.

  "Mallory?"

  That voice woke her up. She frowned and straightened on the bench. "Thorpe." He was the Special Agent in Charge in Chicago. Her former boss. The man who had offered to 'temporarily reassign her' until the inquest could be completed. The man she had resigned to before he could fire her.

  "Where are you?"

  "Washington."

  Another pause. "You're fucking kidding me. Washington State?"

  "Tacoma, to be exact. What...?"

  "Jesus!" Thorpe shouted. "Mallory, there's a town about a hundred miles north of you called Shepherd. Get there by hook or by crook."

  "What's happening?" Mallory asked. She was already on her feet and trotting toward her rental car.

  "Bank robbery. It started about fifteen minutes ago. News camera was inside the building and caught one of the robbers with her mask off."

  Her. The word echoed in Mallory's ears. Please, God, she prayed, let this be my break.

  "It's Lance, Faye. She's locked up inside a bank. There are hostages. She's not getting out any time soon."

  "How did you find out about this?"

  "It's on the news," Thorpe said with a laugh. "It was a breaking news report right in the middle of a fucking talk show my wife was watching. I look up and I see goddamn Claire Lance on my TV screen robbing a bank in Washington, and you're there. Holy shit, can you believe this?"

  Mallory didn't care about belief. She just cared about not wasting another second. She got behind the wheel, reached for the siren out of instinct, and got a cold dose of reality. "I have no authority," she said. "I can break the damn sound barrier getting up there, but I'll have zero authority."

  "Like hell you won't," Thorpe said. "You're an agent, Faye. This is your case."

  "I resigned."

  "You were reassigned. Floating agent. No permanent home office. When you get there, I'll make sure anyone who needs to will know that you're in charge. It's your case, Agent Mallory. Go bring our girl back where she belongs."

  Mallory tossed the phone aside and squealed the tires of her car as she pulled away from the curb. "Either she's coming home in a box, boss, or I am," she muttered. At the moment, it didn't particularly matter which. She reached for the glove box as she drove and found the rental agency's state map. She prayed Shepherd was large enough to be represented but, if it wasn't, she'd find it.

  Claire Lance wouldn't get away this time. She was going to see to it.

  #

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lance stared down at the group of hostages, her gun out but carefully not aimed at anyone. She did a quick headcount; seven women, six men, and a teenage boy were all gathered around the deposit slip island. Some looked too scared to do anything but shudder, while others watched Ares and Lance with contempt and anger. Tania, one of the gathered hostages, was putting on a good show of fear when Hatcher calmly removed her gun from the holster and motioned for her to sit with the rest of their hostages.

  Hatcher walked calmly around the edge of the group, making sure they all got a good look at his gun. "Remain calm. Do not make any rash decisions. This is a bank robbery. I don't want to harm any of you. I just want the money, and I'll be on my way. This is a promise. You help me, I help you, and you all have a fun story to tell when you get home tonight." He turned to Lance and said under his breath, "Watch them."

  Lance nodded and Hatcher walked into the safe deposit vault. Ares and Aphrodite went behind the counter and began emptying the cash drawers into long, fat duffel bags. Nemesis and Morpheus went on a quick tour of the bank to make sure they had gotten everyone. Lance could barely hear anything over the pounding of her heart, the rush of blood in her ears. The bank manager, Torri Hodge, put one arm around a quaking clerk and whispered something to her. The clerk nodded and lifted teary eyes to Lance.

  Nemesis and Morpheus reappeared a few minutes later and Nemesis went straight for the safe deposit room. She stopped at the door and said, "Zeus. Two minutes." Lance turned at those words, praying they didn't mean what she thought. "They're on their way."

  "How do you know?" Lanc
e asked.

  Nemesis tapped her ear. For a moment Lance thought she was implying she was psychic, then she realized she was indicating the earbud. Someone was listening to a scanner and had fed her the information.

  Hatcher came out of the vault with a dusting of white power on the tail of his suit jacket. Lance knew it was from drilling into the boxes, but to what end? How many could he possibly open in the amount of time they had? He was after something specific. Lance couldn't help but think this entire bank robbery was staged in order to get that specific something. And now everything was going sideways.

  Hatcher brought up his rifle and aimed it at the group. "Who did it?" he asked. His voice was disarmingly calm as he waited for an answer. When no one confessed, Hatcher lurched forward and grabbed someone's arm. The woman shrieked and Lance saw that it was the teller who Torri had tried to comfort a few moments earlier. Hatcher pulled her tight against his body and pressed the barrel of his gun against the soft skin under her chin.

  "Who punched the silent alarm?" he asked again, still calm.

  The woman began to sob, and Lance tightened her grip on her weapon. She was determined she would put a bullet in his head before he could kill the woman.

  "Where did the man in the orange tie come from?"

  Lance and Hatcher both looked at Torri Hodge. Her face was streaked with tears, but her eyes were hard. Her red hair hung in her face and, with her stocking feet tucked underneath her, she looked like a businesswoman on a lunch break. Hatcher stared at her and then looked at Morpheus.

  "If he came through the back door," Torri explained, "then he would have set off a silent alarm. No one uses that door, so the security guard hadn't disabled the alarm yet."

  Lance looked at Tania in time to see her eyes widen in horror.

  "Jesus Christ," Hatcher muttered. He lowered his gun and pushed the woman away. She fell to her hands and knees and scrambled back to Torri's side. Hatcher walked to the frosted glass from doors of the bank and shoved his way through. He stood in the narrow atrium and looked out into the street.

  When he returned, he pushed the doors shut and said, "Ares, Nemesis, get the windows." They followed his orders and closed the blinds. The already meager sunlight was completely cut off and the room was cast into a dreary premature dusk. Hatcher pulled off his mask to reveal red cheeks and a throbbing vein between his left eyebrow and hairline. His eyes were wide, but Lance knew he wasn't scared; he was close to panic. "Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to inform you that this has become a hostage situation."

  Lance closed her eyes. Taking off the mask was either a huge mistake or a sure sign of just how bad things were going to get.

  He ignored their whimpers of fear as he walked back to the safe deposit room. He didn't look back as he said, "Artemis, help Morpheus in the vault. Looks like we have all the time in the world to fill those bags now."

  Lance followed Morpheus down the hall, but slowed her pace to let him get ahead of her. She stopped, leaned against the wall, and pulled off her mask. She needed to breathe just a little bit of fresh air, needed to take a moment and just breathe. She was in a bank, armed, holding hostages. Police were on their way. She steadied herself, determined she wouldn't hyperventilate, and pushed away from the wall. She pulled the mask back on and ran down to the vault.

  Morpheus had a pile of duffel bags on the ground, standing open like baby birds awaiting their mother's meals. Morpheus took stacks of money from the shelf, ripped the binding off, and thumbed through them looking for trackers and dye packs. He dumped the loose bills into the bag. Lance went to the other side of the vault and stared at the money. Somehow there was a difference in taking part in a bank robbery, being the driver, and actually loading the bags with money.

  A voice she didn't recognize barked, "Come on. Don't take all fucking day. Just load the bags."

  Lance turned and realized the voice came from Morpheus. It was the first time she'd ever heard the man speak.

  She looked back at the money and said, "In for a penny, I guess." She grabbed the top stack of bills, ripped the binding off, and thumbed through it before dumping the money into the bag.

  #

  Two squad cars blocked the road around the bank, moving only to allow the Mobile Crime Unit to move in. Detective Ryan Camden climbed from the cab of the truck while it was still rolling, coming down onto the street at a trot. He looked at the sky, wrinkled his nose at the slowly rolling storm clouds, and grabbed the first uniformed officer he passed. "What's the situation?"

  "Unknown number of hostages, unknown number of hostage takers. We got a call from a technician in the news van," he pointed it out, "just a few minutes after a silent alarm began going off. When we arrived, we found the front doors locked and the shades drawn."

  "How did the technician know to call it in?"

  "Camerawoman and reporter are inside. The camera was on and captured one of the hostage takers going down a hallway toward the vault. Apparently it was a woman."

  "A woman? Why do you say that?"

  "The camera caught her taking off her mask."

  "That's the kind of thing you lead with, son. Which reporter?"

  The officer was thrown by the question. "Uh, Lindsay Le, I think."

  Camden arched a blond eyebrow and said, "Damn. I really like her. Okay. What's your name?" He looked at the tag on the officer's chest. "Clayton. Okay, Clayton, get the perimeter established. Give me a good two blocks on either side. What is that?" He pointed at the Mustang idling in front of the bank.

  "Getaway car."

  "Drive it outside the boundary. It's ours now. Who's the SWAT commander?"

  "Lieutenant Roland."

  Camden winced. "All right. Bound to happen. Get that perimeter up." He walked away as the officer went to follow his orders. The SWAT team arrived in a shrieking cacophony of brakes. Camden stood on the sidewalk as he watched Jeremiah Roland climb from the front of the SUV, cover his black hair with a baseball cap, and scan the area until he spotted Camden. He ordered his team to take up positions and started toward Camden.

  They met next to the Mobile Crime Unit. "I guess it was only a matter of time before we worked together again," Camden said. He pointed to the park across the street. "We'll set up a command post over there. Your snipers are in position?"

  "They will be in thirty seconds. The way the bank is situated, and with the height of the surrounding buildings, the robbers will have to be pressed right up against the glass before we can get a clear shot at anyone."

  "Hopefully the whole thing will be over before we have to worry about that. I'll let you take care of your men." He hesitated and said, "We'll be able to work together, right? Without it being awkward?"

  Roland shrugged. "Sure. Hey, you're the one who didn't call the next day." He grinned and went off to gather his team.

  Camden turned and looked at the front doors of the bank. The doors were set into the corner, frosted glass impenetrable to them. Stretching away from the door on either side, tall windows hidden by blinds. And on the other side, a group of very frightened people being held at gunpoint by a group of potentially unstable people. It was up to him to get everybody out of the building safely.

  He looked at the MCU and called over an officer. "I want you to get that news footage out on the airways. Officer...something. Claymore. Said that the news camera caught one of the robbers with their mask off. I want to find out if anyone recognizes her. Maybe we'll get lucky. And someone get me a phone. I want to get the negotiations started as soon as possible."

  #

  Lance and Morpheus brought the filled bags out to the main room. Nemesis and Aphrodite were gathered around the hostages, making sure no one tried to do anything stupid. Ares was still behind the counter, going through a teller's station. Lance left her bags in a row of chairs that flanked a forest of fauna, and went to the safe deposit vault.

  The room was long and narrow, the gold faces of the safe deposit boxes gleaming under fluorescent lights. A long tabl
e took up the middle of the room and Hatcher stood beside it with his treasure in hand. Lance scanned the wall and saw that only one box had been drilled, out of thousands. Hatcher's gun lay on the table as he rifled through the contents of the box.

  "Did you find it?"

  He looked up and then pulled a handful of papers from the box. He tossed them down onto the table, ignoring them as they drifted and fell off the edge. "It's just Artemis," he said. He continued to dig.

  Lance frowned. "What?"

  "It's not here."

  "What isn't?"

  "I'm telling you, I'm looking. It's not fucking here." He picked up the now-empty box and hurled it at the wall. "It's not here!" he shouted, his voice echoing as the box slammed into the wall with an almost musical chime. He turned to face the wall and Lance saw the wire of an earpiece trailing down into his shirt collar. She didn't even have to guess who he was talking to. He looked into the empty space his drilling had left behind as if the Holy Grail might have dropped out unnoticed.

  The phone starting to ring out in the main room of the bank. Hatcher listened to it for a long moment before he snatched up his shotgun and stormed from the vault. As he passed Lance, he said, "It doesn't matter now. We're out of time."

  Lance followed him out of the vault. Aphrodite, Nemesis, Ares and Morpheus all stood at the cardinal points of the room, weapons keeping the hostages corralled in the center. All four of the hostage takers watched him, all fourteen of the hostages cringed at the sight of his weapon. He went behind the desk, jabbed the speakerphone button with two fingers, and said, "I assume this is the police officer in charge of negotiations."

  "It is." The man's voice rivaled Hatcher's for calm, the sound of a bored telemarketer making his millionth offer. "Detective Ryan Camden. And to whom am I speaking?"

  "You can call me Zeus."

  "You're calling the shots here, friend. I just want you to know that we all want a peaceful solution to this. You, me, the hostages you have in there. I'm going to do everything in my power to make that happened. I get paid the same whether this lasts ten minutes or ten hours, okay?"