by Matt Lincoln
Holm made his decision and marched over to the patrol car that Lopez had arrived in. He opened the driver’s side door and reached into the dash to grab the speaker that was connected to the PA system mounted on top of the car. He clicked the button on the side and took a deep breath before speaking into it.
“You are surrounded,” Holm declared, keeping his voice calm and steady. “Come out with your hands up.”
For a long moment, his command was met with nothing but silence.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” Hanks stalked up to Holm, his face twisted into an angry grimace. Holm took his finger off the button before turning to him.
“I’m trying to get our men off of there safely,” Holm retorted as Hanks came to a stop in front of him.
“You’ve given us away!” Hanks hissed as he leaned in to glare at Holm.
“What?” Holm scoffed as he looked skeptically back at the other man. “You think they weren’t aware that you’re here? The fleet of police cars wasn’t exactly subtle, and if the two of you are just going to stand around and argue, then I’m going to have to do this myself.”
Hanks opened his mouth to argue back, but Lopez clapped a hand down onto his shoulder before he could say anything.
“Let him work,” Lopez insisted.
Hanks looked furious at being ganged up on but didn’t reply. Instead, he just stomped away petulantly. Holm turned back to the boat and lifted the speaker up to his mouth again, but before he could say anything else, something moved on the boat.
Greasy Hair stepped out boldly through the door leading into the small cabin. It was dark behind him, and Holm couldn’t see what was inside. Holm tensed as several of the officers lifted their guns at him, but they all held still as Sergeant Hanks lifted a hand to stop them. He shot Holm a dirty look before looking back toward the man on the boat.
“Put your guns down!” Greasy Hair yelled even as he waved his own gun around wildly. “Anyone shoots, and I’ll kill those three cops we got inside, understand?”
Holm’s blood ran cold at those words. He could tell by the menacing tone in the man’s voice that he wasn’t bluffing. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill them if anyone stepped out of line. After taking another long, calming breath, Holm lifted the speaker up to his lips again.
“No one is going to shoot,” he assured the man. “My name is Robbie Holm. Can I ask who I’m speaking to?”
It was standard procedure to try to establish a personal connection with the perp during hostage negotiations. It made them less likely to react violently.
“Go to hell!” the man yelled back. “I don’t care who you are!”
Great, Holm thought to himself sarcastically. This was going excellently.
“No one has to get hurt here,” Holm pressed forward despite the man’s aggressive response. “All we want is to settle this peacefully, so why don’t you come down and--?”
“Why don’t you shut up?!” Greasy Hair roared as he pointed his gun directly at Holm. His heart rate skyrocketed, but Holm kept his chin up, refusing to flinch at the man’s threat. He needed to stay calm and in control of this negotiation. “You think I’m stupid? Do you think I’m going to fall for some dumb trick like that? No, I’m not going anywhere.”
“You can’t stay in there forever,” Holm replied calmly. There were a thousand things that he wanted to say to the man, most of them so vulgar and violent that they couldn’t be repeated in polite company. He needed to remain calm, though, for Marston and the officers’ sakes. “Come on. I want to talk with you. I know there’s a way we can reach a solution that works for both of us.”
As soon as he stopped speaking, Lopez leaned in to whisper something in Holm’s ear. “The Coast Guard has been notified. They’re moving in to prevent the suspects from trying to escape by water as we speak. They should be here in just a few minutes.”
“Alright,” Holm whispered back, both glad and nervous about the news.
It was good that they were getting more back up, but at the same time, he worried that the appearance of even more law enforcement might spook the perps into retaliating against Marston and the cops. People who felt desperate and cornered could do some crazy things. He lifted the speaker back up to continue, both in an attempt to reach an agreement and to stall until the Coast Guard could arrive.
“I’d really like to know who it is I’m speaking to,” Holm said in a new attempt at gaining some kind of rapport with the man. “I told you my name. Why don’t you tell me yours so we can have a real conversation, man to man?”
That last line was a bit of a risk. Holm wanted it to feel like an insult while not directly offending the perp. The idea was to make him feel as though only a coward would refuse to face someone ‘like a man’ and therefore manipulate Greasy Hair into talking. On the other hand, it was possible that the thinly veiled barb might just piss the man off even more.
“So you can run my name through your little system?” Greasy Hair scoffed. “Nice try. I’m not telling you crap! Now, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re all going to clear out, and we’re going to walk away from here. Unless you want your friends to die, that is.”
His plan didn’t make any sense, and Holm realized that the suspect must be feeling more desperate than he initially thought if that was the best that he could come up with. Did he really expect everyone to just walk away and let them waltz into town? What was his plan even going to be once they were free? They were on an island and an incredibly small one at that. There weren’t that many places to hide, and they’d be caught eventually unless he decided to find another boat to flee on.
“You know we can’t do that,” Holm replied into the speaker. “We’re past the point of just walking away now, but we can still settle this peacefully.”
Greasy Hair opened his mouth as if to yell something in response but stopped short. Holm watched with mounting confusion as he instead turned around to peer into the boat. He was too far away to hear what was being said, but Holm could tell that the man was saying something to whoever was inside. Confusion turned to dread as the seconds stretched on. What exactly was going on in there that had pulled the man’s attention so thoroughly?
“Now’s our chance,” Hanks noted eagerly as he rushed up to speak to Holm and Lopez. “We should strike now while he’s distracted. We’re just wasting time here!”
“It’s still too dangerous,” Lopez argued. “And we’re still waiting on the Coast Guard. Just be patient for--”
He never got to finish his thought because, at that precise moment, the sound of a gunshot rang out from the inside of the boat. Holm’s stomach filled with dread at the sound, and for a moment, it felt as though his heart had stopped beating entirely.
“What was that?” Holm asked over the speaker, unable to keep his voice from wavering as he spoke. Greasy Hair didn’t respond.
“We need to go in now!” Hanks yelled. Holm was frozen. He didn’t know what to do. Part of him wanted to rush in right now, but the other part worried that doing so might just make things worse. Before he could make a decision, another shot rang out, followed by another.
“Go, go, go!” Hanks called over the sound of the gunshots as he directed his men to storm the boat. His words knocked Holm out of his shocked stupor, and he jumped into action as a rush of adrenaline coursed through his veins.
He took off at a sprint toward the boat, overtaking several of the other officers in a matter of seconds and still urging his own legs to move faster. As he rapidly approached the boat, all he could do was pray that Marston was alright in there.
25
Ethan
I woke up to a splitting headache and the inability to move my arms. For several long, disoriented seconds, I had no idea what was going on. It was common for me to wake up with aches and pains after a particularly trying day out in the field, but it had never been so bad that I couldn’t move.
It took several more seconds for me to realize that the reason I couldn�
��t move my arms was that they were tied behind my back, which wasn’t lying flat on a bed, but rather leaning up against something hard and rough.
I snapped my eyes open as my memories came flooding back to me. The stake-out at the docks, the ambush, lowering my guard in order to save Holm from being shot, and then the pain. Everything after that was fuzzy, but I could distinctly recall the intense pain that had exploded across the back of my head just moments after I’d shot the man that was looming over my partner.
I blinked blearily up at my surroundings as I fully regained consciousness. It was immediately clear that I was sitting inside a small boat. While it wasn’t as fancy as the houseboat that I lived on, it was big enough to have an enclosed interior cabin.
Linden and Jansen were sitting against the wall perpendicular to the one that I was leaning against. They were both awake, but neither looked like they were doing all that well. Linden was covered in blood, and Jansen looked pale. He was glaring at something on the other side of the cabin. I followed his line of sight and realized that there were two other men in the boat cabin with us.
I didn’t recognize them from the fight, so I could only assume these were the men who had arrived on the boat. One of them sat in the center of the cabin on a cracked, plastic stool, a gun dangling idly from his hand while he watched us like a hawk. The other man stood by the door, pressed against the wall just inside the cabin as he carefully glanced outside.
I looked back at the man that was sitting on the stool just as his eyes slid over to meet mine.
“Move a muscle, and I’ll kill you,” he grumbled threateningly.
A second later, I heard someone else just outside, yelling something. The alarming realization of the situation I was in hit me with full force then. Linden, Jansen, and I were being held hostage. The suspects had dragged us back onto the boat and were using us as bargaining chips.
I took a deep breath as I assessed my best chances of escape. My hands were tied behind my back, which wasn’t great, but it wasn’t the end of the world, either, since they hadn’t actually tied me to anything or bound my legs. I could still walk if the situation called for it.
As subtly as I could, I looked down to check if I still had my gun and other equipment on me. Of course, the suspects had thought about that, and I had nothing. I glanced at Linden and Jansen. Linden looked unsteady. His eyes were unfocused, and he actually looked like he might faint at any moment. Jansen, on the other hand, glared at the man on the stool with a look of unbridled fury.
I looked back at the man sitting on the stool. Without a weapon and with my hands bound, there was no way I was going to get very far using just brute force. It might be better if I tried to reason with the guard.
“This is a bad idea,” I warned him, doing my best to keep my voice confident and authoritative. To my dismay, it came out a lot more weak and raspy than I’d intended.
“Shut up,” the man replied flatly.
“This isn’t going to end well for you,” I continued despite his warning. “I can hear your buddy out there trying to negotiate. That means the cops are out there, right? How do you think you’re going to get out of this?”
“I said shut up!” the guard roared as he stood up and pointed his gun at me.
I pursed my lips shut. Evidently, talking my way out wasn’t going to work. This guy was either too panicked or just too stupid to be reasoned with. That being the case, I needed to find a new method.
As the man sat back down, I tentatively tested the ropes that were binding my wrists together behind my back. It felt cheap, like crappy twine instead of proper, thick rope. That was good because it would make it easier to break through if only I could find something sharp enough.
I could have used my pocket knife if I still had it on me, but the suspects had taken everything before I’d come to. I glanced surreptitiously around the interior of the small boat cabin. There really wasn’t much in here at all, let alone something that I might use to cut through my restraints. It occurred to me suddenly that it didn’t make sense for the boat to be empty. Hadn’t the men been coming to Aruba to drop off a shipment of drugs? Had Ruiz set us up from the beginning?
I decided to shelve that thought for now as I refocused on the matter at hand. Right then, I needed to find a way to get free and get myself out of this situation. I could deal with the rest later.
As I continued to scan the barren room, I noticed that the walls were in a state of disrepair. Whoever owned this boat hadn’t taken very good care of her, and the interior walls were falling apart, bolts and nails visible in several places beneath the peeling paint.
That would be perfect, I thought silently to myself as my eyes landed on a nail that was sticking partway out of the wall next to where Linden was sitting. Of course, there was no way I could reach that spot without drawing the guard’s attention.
I leaned back against the wall behind me, closed my eyes, and pretended to be in pain while secretly running my hands along the dilapidated wood. I had to stop myself from flinching as I accidentally dragged my finger across something sharp. I couldn’t believe the stroke of luck at having actually found something so close by.
I moved as imperceptibly as I could, raising my wrists until the thin rope caught on the little nail that I’d just cut my finger on. It was slow going, trying to slice through the ropes one tiny thread at a time, but it was something.
Slouching over to the side so I could conceal my hands, I struggled to keep my movements as subtle. Several times, I accidentally scraped my own wrists against the nails as I tried to cut through the rope, but I fought to keep my expression from giving anything away. I was definitely going to need a tetanus shot after this.
I had just managed to slice through the last bit of rope and free my wrists when Jansen suddenly jumped to his feet. I looked up at him in alarm as he lunged toward the man sitting on the stool, running forward at full speed even with his hands tied behind his back.
No! I thought with futility as I watched Jansen tackle the man. Just what was he thinking, attacking the suspect with no way to defend himself?
“Run!” Jansen yelled as he craned his head around to look at us. “Go, hurry!”
Before either Linden or I could do or say anything in response, the suspect threw Jansen off, tossing him face down onto the ground. In the blink of an eye, he lifted his gun and shot Jansen directly in the back. It all happened so fast that I barely had time to process what was happening before it was over.
“Jansen!” Linden yelled as he wobbled up onto unsteady legs.
“Don’t move!” the suspect yelled as he lifted his gun and pointed it toward Linden. Officer Linden ignored him and stumbled over to his partner, his face pale and his eyes wide as he looked down at Jansen.
“No, no, no,” Linden muttered as he looked down at the pool of blood that was gradually seeping out from beneath Jansen’s body. The guard’s face twisted into a sneer as his finger twitched against the trigger, ready to shoot Linden as well.
I clenched my jaw and prepared to jump to my feet. This hadn’t been what I wanted to do after getting free, but I had no choice now if I wanted to stop him from killing Linden. Before I could move, the other man, the one who had been standing by the door, walked hastily over and pushed his accomplice’s hand away.
“What are you doing?” the second suspect asked angrily. “What are we supposed to do if you kill the hostages? Just stab him or something.”
The first suspect grinned wickedly down at Linden as he holstered his gun and slipped a pocket knife, my pocket knife, from his back pocket. He suddenly kicked Linden hard in the side, knocking him to the ground next to Jansen. Quick as lightning, he knelt down and plunged the knife deep into Linden’s shoulder.
Linden howled with pain as the man stood back up, leaving the knife pinned into the officer’s shoulder.
“What the hell is going on in here?” a new voice shouted from the open doorway. I looked up and finally caught a glimpse of the thi
rd man’s face. He had long, tangled hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in a while.
So this is the guy who’s been running the negotiations, I thought to myself as my eyes slid over to the knife that was still buried in Linden’s shoulder. The three suspects were all too busy squabbling with each other to notice me. Now was my chance.
I jumped to my feet before lunging forward and yanking the knife out of Linden’s shoulder, mentally apologizing for the action as Linden cried out in pain a second time. With the knife now firmly in my hand, I stood up straight and lept toward the man that had stabbed him. He turned and spotted me coming just as I lifted the knife, his eyes filled with fear as I brought it down onto his neck, striking directly in the jugular.
He let out a choked gurgling noise as his knees buckled beneath him, dropping his gun in the process.
The other man that had been keeping watch inside roared with fury as his partner went down, reaching for the gun at his hip. Before he could get to it, I dove to the ground, grabbing the first man’s gun as I rolled to the side to avoid the second guard’s shots. I lifted the gun and fired back at him, both of my shots striking him in the chest.
He yelled as the force of the gunshots knocked him backward off his feet, his gun falling to the ground and skidding across the floor of the boat cabin.
The third man who had just come inside had watched the scene play out in shock, too stunned to move as his two comrades went down. He finally seemed to snap back to his senses as he lifted his gun toward me with a guttural scream.
I froze as I stared down the barrel of the suspect’s gun. I was already pressed against the back wall from when I’d rolled away to avoid the last man’s shots. I had nowhere to go.
“I’m going to kill you!” the third man yelled. “I’m going to make you pay for trying to trick Maduro!”
Maduro? I thought even through the panic I was feeling. What did he mean by trying to trick him? Had he somehow realized our plan, and that was how they managed to ambush us?