by Geonn Cannon
"Why do you even have a razor blade at work?"
Carey's hand momentarily flattened over her thigh and then skittered away. Lance's shoulders relaxed. "You cut yourself. And you hide your razors in the bathroom. Where?"
"Behind the toilet tank."
The girl's eyes were on Lance's wrist, which was now stinging. She looked down and saw blood dripping down her fingers. "Just wonderful." She picked up her gun and went to the sink to run the hot water. She washed the blood away, keeping an eye on Carey in the mirror. "That was damned stupid, what you did. You could have gotten yourself or someone else killed. Any one of those other people out there, you pulled a stunt like that, you would have a bullet in your head. Understand?"
"Yes."
Lance wrapped her wrist with a paper towel. "It was admirable. It really was. But it was the wrong move. Do you have any other razors stashed anywhere?"
"Just behind the toilet."
Lance nodded. She picked up the razor and went to the door. "Morpheus. Come in here a second." Morpheus appeared at the door, his white mask stretched over his features to make him look like an Easter Island carving. He looked at Lance, then at her wrist, and then at Carey. "I had an accident. Take her back out to Dite and Nemesis." He looked pointedly at her wrist. "It was a damned accident. What, you think she's going to attack me? Please."
Morpheus seemed convinced and motioned for Carey to follow him. She hesitated but then began to walk. She stopped next to Lance and whispered, "Thank you."
"Don't try it again. If you do, you'll die. That's not a threat, it's a warning."
Carey flinched and hurried out of the room.
Lance went back into the room and wet a handful of paper towels in the sink. She dropped to one knee and began cleaning up her blood. "The simple life. Become a mechanic, get a couple of friends." She faked a Brooklyn accent and added, "Come to the coast, we'll get together, have a few laughs." She dumped the bloody towels in the trash and carefully picked up the razor. She went into the stall and found the box taped to the back of the toilet tank. She returned the bloody razor to the box, closed it, and stuck it into her jacket pocket.
At the sink, she removed the towel from her wrist and examined the cut. It was shallow, but it had bled a lot. Her sleeve was marked red, as was the cuff of her jacket. She washed the wound with soap and water, got a fresh paper towel and applied pressure until the bleeding stopped. She opened the drawers until she found a box of band-aids. She managed to get one out and applied it to her wrist. It wasn't the most awkward place for a bandage, but it was close.
Lance tugged the sleeve back in place and left the bathroom.
Aphrodite met her halfway down the hall. "What the hell happened?"
"I closed the stall door on my wrist."
"How the hell did you do that?"
"I don't know. It was a freak accident. Who is watching—"
"Morpheus and Nemesis. You closed a stall door on your wrist."
Lance rolled her eyes. "No, Weepy Teller attacked me."
Aphrodite stared at her for a long moment. Lance could almost make out her eyes behind the white cotton. Finally, Aphrodite shrugged. "Fine. Whatever. Come on. Hatcher got another call."
Lance followed Aphrodite into the vault. Hatcher was pacing in a narrow circle, and looked up as they entered. "The van is on its way, all right?" Camden was saying. "We're going to do whatever we can to accommodate you, but we have to know how many seats you need."
"Ten," Hatcher said. "It needs to seat ten."
"Excellent. Very good. Now we're getting somewhere."
"Call me when it's there."
"I want to talk to the hostages."
"Well, I don't want to talk anymore. I have a lot of work to do." He picked up the drill.
Camden sighed. "Well, in that case, there's someone here who wants to send a message." There was a shuffling sound as the receiver changed hands, and Lance turned to look toward the front of the bank.
"Hello, Claire."
Lance froze. Her heart stopped and her lungs refused to draw air.
"This is Faye Mallory. In case you don't recognize the voice. I just wanted to let you know I was out here. Let me know when you're ready to come out and have a chat."
#
Chapter Twenty-Four
An officer briefed Camden on the van situation. "We found a van at the police impound lot. It's big, hopefully big enough for the robbers, but not so they can bring any hostages with them."
"Excellent. Thank you." He continued on to the gazebo. Chelsea and her son were seated on a bench across the park and she was speaking on a cell phone. Lieutenant Roland was watching her as Camden approached and slapped the back of his bulletproof vest. "Eavesdropping?"
Roland smiled. "It would be easier if she'd enunciate. And stop blocking her mouth with the phone."
"Who's she talking to?"
"Her partner. Joan or Joe."
Camden said, "One of the hostages is her ex-husband. That kid is her son."
Roland rolled his eyes. "Oh, she has an ex-husband. She couldn't possibly be gay."
Camden arched an eyebrow and said, "What's the tactical situation? Are you prepared to penetrate the bank?"
Roland turned and walked to the folding table they had set up. A blueprint of the bank was spread out over the top, the edges overshooting the table's boundaries. Two coffee cups kept the map from rolling in on itself. "Snipers have the roof covered. All windows and doors have eyes on them. I have teams prepared to enter on your word here," he pointed to the back, "and here," he pointed to a spot near the front door. "All we need is your okay and we go in."
"Smoke grenades?"
"Tear gas."
"Nice."
Roland nodded. "Any luck, we could be done with this by dinner."
"I have plans for dinner."
"Cancel 'em."
Camden grinned and said, "I'll let you know."
"About dinner or about the penetration?"
"Kind of thought they were the same thing," Camden said. He lifted an eyebrow and went to the MCU.
As he climbed inside, one of the phone techs said, "Detective Camden. I just got a call from an agent with the FBI. They're en route from the field office."
"What the hell took them so long?"
"I don't know. Apparently the agent's bringing someone from another office."
"Wonderful. We can all have a cross country interjurisdictional jamboree."
He took a seat in the MCU and stared up at the television screens. They were still watching the feed from Samantha Ross' camera. One of the female robbers walked down a hallway with a female hostage. A few minutes later, one of the male robbers hurried down the hall and returned with the hostage. Camden said, "Wonder where the first robber went." He picked up the phone and dialed the bank's number.
While the phone rang, another female robber went down the hall and returned with the first one.
"Maybe she got lost," the technician said.
Camden smiled. He didn't have to wait as long as the last few times before Zeus answered. "What?"
"It's just me again, Mr. Zeus. I wanted to keep you apprised on the situation. We've been looking into your demands. I'm not sure we'll be able to close off I-5 for the time you need, especially if this thing stretches on into rush hour."
"Then we'll wait until the middle of the night."
Camden winced. "Whatever will make you feel the safest. Now we're also looking into the van. I want you to remember that the van is on the way, all right? We're going to do whatever we can to accommodate you, but we have to know how many people you need to seat. We're not trying to trick information out of you. We just don't want you sending the van back because it's too small. We're like your waiters today, and we want your steak to be perfect."
There was a long pause before he said, "Ten. It needs to seat ten."
"Excellent. Very good. Now we're getting somewhere." The door to the MCU opened and Hatcher turned. A square peg of a
man blocked the door as he stepped inside, and he used one hand to smooth the tie against his chest. When he was out of the way, Camden saw a slender, redheaded woman step inside behind him. There were bags under her eyes, her hair was a mess, and her suit looked like she'd slept in it. Camden hoped she was the visiting agent; he'd hate to think their local FBI was that lax. He also would hate to think that the handsome, muscular, square-jawed agent didn't live within driving distance.
The beautiful man flashed his credentials, and Camden nodded. Into the phone, he said, "I want to talk hostages."
Zeus sounded distracted. "Well, I don't want to talk anymore. I have a lot of work to do."
Camden sighed and the disheveled woman stepped forward. She gestured for the phone and the local agent nodded that it was okay. "Well, in that case, there's someone here who wants to send a message."
He handed the phone over and the woman took a deep breath. "Hello, Claire. This is Faye Mallory. In case you don't recognize the voice. I just wanted to let you know I was out here. Let me know when you're ready to come out and have a chat." She handed the phone back and Camden hung up.
"What the hell was that? Do you know who the bank robbers are?"
"I know one of them," Mallory said. "The first footage released to the media. The robber who took her mask off. Her name is Claire Lance. She's wanted for several murders in Chicago, as well as a few murders Oklahoma would like to take her for. I've been chasing her for over two years now."
"Well, you can add twenty-five years for armed bank robbery to your list of charges," Camden said.
"Oh, I plan to," Mallory said.
The man extended his hand past Mallory. "Agent Everett Weaver from the Seattle office. Special Agent Faye Mallory from the Chicago office."
"Agent Weaver. Agent Mallory. Wasn't there anyone available from Oklahoma?"
Mallory ignored the quip and nodded at the television screens. "This is the feed from the news camera? They haven't noticed it yet?"
"I don't think they know it's on," the technician said. "I mean, why else would they just keep walking in front of it. This Zeus guy isn't even wearing his mask anymore."
Mallory found a vacant chair and pulled it over in front of the screens. "You've been recording, right?" The technician nodded. "Run the tape on one of these screens. I want to see what Lance has been up to."
#
Hatcher frowned at the phone before he disconnected. He looked up at Lance. "Who the hell is Claire? Is she a hostage?"
"No," Lance said, trying to keep the panic from her voice. "Torri, Wendy, Carey, Cassie, Lindsay and Samantha. And let's not forget Tania. They're just trying to freak us out. Scare us into giving something away."
"Looks like it's working," Aphrodite said. "Look at your hand."
They all looked at Lance's left hand. It was shaking violently. She clenched her fist and shoved it into the pocket of her jacket. "It's nothing."
Hatcher came around the table and said, "Who is Claire? You know, don't you? And why is your sleeve bloody? What's going on here, Artemis?
Lance looked between them and then peeled off her mask. "Okay. Fine. I'm a criminal. I'm not who I appear to be. I'm sure you're both shocked to discover you're not robbing a bank with a fine, upstanding citizen. My name doesn't matter. Right?"
"It matters if it's going to cause someone to bring us down," Aphrodite said. She looked at Hatcher. "Maybe we can use her as a bargaining chip. That, that Faye woman sounded like it was personal. Maybe Claire here is our ticket to freedom."
Hatcher dragged a hand down his face and left a line of dust over both cheeks. "We don't have time for this." He aimed a finger at Lance. "You're Artemis. That's all I care about right now. I may change my mind later, but for now...we drop it. Ares, Nemesis and Morpheus don't have to know."
Lance gestured at Hatcher's earpiece. "Neither does Rebecca."
"Right," Hatcher said. "We'll deal with this when we have to. Not before." He picked up his drill and went back around the table. The wall of safe deposit boxes had been decimated, random boxes knocked out and their contents dumped on the floor. Hatcher tripped over one box and said, "Tell Morpheus to get in here and clean this shit up."
Aphrodite followed Lance out of the vault and said, "I won't forget this. We will discuss it when everything is said and done."
"I look forward to that conversation," Lance said without turning around.
When she returned to the office, Russell looked up and his eyes widened behind his glasses. "Oh, shit. Oh, God, no." He pushed his glasses up and covered his eyes with both hands.
"What's wrong?" Archie asked. "Are you okay?"
"Her mask. Her mask," Russell said. He was breathing heavily.
Lance realized she had left her mask off.
"They're going to kill us. We've seen their faces."
"We're not going to kill anyone," Lance said. "I was just getting sick of the damn mask. I figured if Ares and Nemesis aren't wearing theirs—"
"That's right, baby," Ares said. "Trend setters."
Lance ignored him, pulled a chair away from the wall and dropped into it. She rested the gun on her leg and looked out the glass front of the office. Aphrodite was watching her from the doorway of the other office. They looked at each other for a long moment until Lance turned away.
#
Nemesis wandered off an hour or so later, and returned with a small portable radio. She plugged it in and set it on the floor between the two offices where the hostages were being kept. She crouched in front of the stereo, hugging her knees, as she searched for a clear station. When she found one, she stood up and walked into Lance's office. "Hi. Want to trade offices?"
"Sure," Lance said. "Why not. Variety is the spice of life, right?" She pushed up and let Nemesis take her seat. She walked into the other office and looked down at the other hostages. It was like changing classrooms in the middle of the school day. Not different, just unfamiliar. The set-up was basically the same, but the room was darker and smaller.
Torri, Wendy and Carey were all still in a small cluster on the couch. Lance caught Carey's eye. Carey looked away, but Lance could tell Torri knew what had happened.
"Everything all right, ladies?"
"Everything's fine," Torri said. There was real tenderness in her voice. "Thank you."
Lance looked at Aphrodite, who was leaning against a filing cabinet. "Nemesis—"
"I know," Aphrodite said. "She gets bored easily."
Lance took a seat and tried not to look at anything in particular.
Scott, the meeker half of the gay couple, said, "Why aren't you wearing your mask?"
"Because it's fucking hot," Lance said. She pulled the mask out of her pocket and tossed it at him. "Here. You want to wear it? Be my guest." She pushed a hand through her hair and shook her head.
In the dark, it was easy to forget the hostages were there and just pretend she was alone in the room. She knew the three employees were huddled together to her right, the gay couple on her left. Matthew Bryden was lying on the floor with his hands laced over his stomach. With their positions settled in her mind, Lance felt comfortable letting her thoughts wander. She slouched in her chair, the weight of her gun acting as an anchor to keep her from falling asleep.
"Hello, Claire."
The voice echoed in her mind. Mallory was outside. It was the worst-case scenario, a nightmare scenario. How the hell did Mallory get there so fast? How did she even know Lance was inside? The only person who had left was Martin Collins-Stark, and he never saw her without her mask. So how would anyone on the outside know who was inside? And even if Martin had told someone about her and that someone combined the description with fugitive Claire Lance, there was simply no time for Mallory to have gotten there. It was almost like she had someone watching from the inside the entire time—
"Security cameras," Lance said.
Torri looked up.
"Do the video cameras send feeds off-site?"
"No. They recor
d to machines in the back of the bank. I-I could show you if you wanted."
Lance shook her head. She stood up and went to the door of the office. The security cameras were, as Hatcher said, too high to catch their faces if they wore baseball caps. She walked around the fenced-in potted plants, looking for some way the cops could have gotten a peek through the blinds.
Her eyes skimmed over the deposit slip island and then kicked back. A video camera sat on the check-writing surface, aimed toward the safe deposit vault door. Samantha Ross' camera. Lance moved to one side so she could approach it from behind. She moved slowly, unsure if it picked up sound, and lifted the camera. She turned it slowly, aware she was giving anyone watching a case of seasickness, and then spotted the small red light. "Son of a bitch," she said.
She didn't bother looking for a way to turn the machine off. She held the camera with one hand, turned, and hurled it at the counter. It sailed through the lobby and cracked against one of the teller's stands. It fell to the floor and three pieces went in three different directions. Lance walked over to it, stomped on the largest piece, and kicked the lens in.
By the time her tantrum ended, the rest of the group had gathered to watch her. Aphrodite, Ares and Nemesis stood in the doors of their office, while Hatcher and Morpheus were standing between the safe deposit vault and the bags of money. "We had a spy," Lance said. "I killed him."
She walked into Ares and Nemesis' office and stopped in front of Sam. "Think you're cute? That little quip about how photogenic I am? Get up. Get the fuck up." All of Sam's cockiness was gone now, replaced with terror. She was cringing away from Lance, clutching Lindsay Le's jacket sleeve. Lance ignored the fright and focused on the woman who had handed her to Mallory on a silver platter.
Lance grabbed Sam's arm and hauled her onto her feet. Tears rolled down Sam's cheeks, and a voice suddenly whispered in Lance's ear.
"Claire..."
Lance recoiled as if punched. Elaine's voice echoed in her mind, fading and shifting to become Jodie's voice. "You were so close to losing this anger, Claire. Don't do something you can't take back. What's done is done. Please, Claire, stop."
"Don't hurt her," Lindsay said. She was on her knees, clutching Sam's hand in her own. "I told her to leave the camera on. If you're going to do anything, do it to me."