“Yeah, I’m mobilizing the troops right now. We were already getting ready to start looking so everybody’s here and ready to roll. The Feds are bringing in choppers, too, and I called emergency services to get every ambulance and paramedic to meet us out there.”
“That’s the old Bronson place, right?”
“Now, Michael, I need you to take your own advice about these men being dangerous and stay where you are. I’ll see you get your exclusive.”
“Okay, Chief. I’ll stand by,” Michael agreed, but he was already running for the stairs to throw on some clothes and haul tail out of there to be first on the scene.
“Michael!” Mia shouted. “You heard Chief. Michael! Come back here.”
But Michael wasn’t listening. He charged back down the stairs with his jeans half undone and his shoes in his hand. Grabbing his bag and stuffing his phone and tablet in it, he ran for the front door.
“Don’t tell anybody about this,” he yelled over his shoulder. “We don’t want the rest of the gang forewarned. And I’ll be fine.”
“Michael, please,” Mia begged.
“Tell Annie I love her.”
“You damn well better tell her yourself,” Mia shot back, her voice quivering with unshed tears.
Mia looked down when she heard a whimper at her side. Even Sammy was upset. Picking up the little dog, she whispered, “And if you get yourself killed, I’ll never forgive you.”
* * *
Michael’s route took him past the station and he slammed on his brakes when he saw an officer sitting in a patrol car. Charlie Gordon popped out of the car and ran around in front of Michael.
“Chief said I should wait for you and bring you out to the site.”
“Guess Chief knows me pretty well,” Michael replied, trying to look sheepish and failing miserably. “You drive. I need to finish getting dressed.”
“Deal. Let’s go. I don’t want to miss all the action either,” Charlie grinned back. “There’s flak gear in the back for you.”
“Got it,” Michael said, doing up his jeans and slipping on his shoes. “Any word from the choppers yet?”
“Nothing. Radio silence. The choppers are searching for the two guys and the SWAT team and the ambulances are headed for the house.”
“What about the guy that tipped me?”
“They’ll be searching for him, too. He’s a witness.”
“How far ahead is SWAT?”
“No more than ten minutes. Don’t worry. We’ll get there in plenty of time. They’ve got hostage negotiators coming in case they’re barricaded inside with the old people.”
“Wow. The Feds must have been setting this up since last night.” Chief had been right to call in the FBI. They had the manpower and the resources for this kind of thing.
“Makes you wonder if it might not be a good idea to hook up with them,” Charlie murmured.
“They already told me I should apply for a position in their research department,” Michael nodded. “It’s something for me to think about, especially with the state of the newspaper business these days.”
“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about your job after you write up this story,” Charlie told him, glancing at Michael out of the corner of his eye.
“Not so much that,” Michael disagreed. “It’s more that the paper might go out of business altogether. Do you know that not one person on my block gets the paper delivered anymore?”
“Not even you?” Charlie grinned.
“Don’t have to. I get it when I go into the office.”
“That’s cheating,” Charlie laughed.
“Look, that’s the Atkins’ farm isn’t it?” Michael asked.
“Yup. We turn north from here.”
Michael held on as Charlie made the turn, barely slowing down from the ninety miles an hour he’d been doing. The car fishtailed a bit, but Charlie soon had it under control.
“Pretty good driving,” Michael choked out, his mouth dry, his palms wet.
“I’ve taken every driving course the state offers for us cops.” Charlie nodded. “Always figured it would come in handy one day.”
“Yeah, but did today have to be the day?” Michael muttered trying to still the pounding of his heart. He’d done okay at ninety on the straight road, but that turn was something else.
Michael was happy to see a dozen police cars in position around the two-story farmhouse, officers crouched behind them with guns drawn. The SWAT team had scattered throughout the trees, weapons drawn and aimed at the windows. They would have had to climb those trees to get a height advantage and that was too risky.
Half a dozen ambulances were pulled up on the road, out of harm’s way. The paramedics had been told to stick close to their vehicles and not to try to get a better view of the action.
“Chief and the others will be in the SWAT van,” Charlie told Michael in answer to his unspoken question.
“I think I’ll stay here,” Michael replied. “Chief sees me heading for the front line, he’s liable to throw me in a chopper and have me dropped back home from a hundred feet up.”
“Good thinking,” Charlie chuckled. “I have to get closer. You stay here, behind the squad and out of sight.”
“Yes, sir, Officer Gordon, sir,” Michael intoned solemnly.
“Stuff it, Broderick. Untrained civilians only get in the way. And remember. We’ve got a dozen frightened seniors in that house. They need us.”
“Sorry,” Michael grimaced. “I was only thinking of the story.”
“I’ll try to get some shots for you with my phone, but that won’t be until we have the scene secure and we know the seniors are okay.”
“I appreciate it, Charlie,” Michael said sincerely.
“See ya’ later, pal,” Charlie said, moving quickly to the nearest group of officers.
That’s when Michael heard the shot and saw Charlie go down.
“No!” Michael yelled.
Another officer was fixing a rough dressing around Charlie’s upper arm, but Michael wasn’t about to sit around while his friend was hurt.
Michael barreled his way toward where Charlie was lying on the ground, never moving in a straight line as if he were avoiding being tackled on the football field.
“What the hell are you doing here!?!” Charlie rasped.
“Speedy and Greedy,” Michael grinned. “We’re a team and I couldn’t let you go down alone.”
“You may have noticed, moron, that I’m not alone.”
“He’s bleeding too much,” the officer who’d dressed Charlie’s wound pointed out. “You look strong enough to carry him over to the paramedics.”
But Michael didn’t have to be put to the test. The paramedics had seen what had happened, and one of the ambulances pulled off the road, circling around to come up behind the officers.
“We’ve got him,” one of them told the officers, not bothering with a gurney. He slithered to the ground on his belly, picked Charlie up like a baby and all but tossed him into the arms of his partner in the back of the vehicle. In moments, they were speeding down the road, no doubt taking Charlie straight to the hospital.
“Holy cow! That was unbelievable,” Michael murmured. But he’d been able to record the dramatic moment from the time the paramedic hit the ground, until the ambulance sped away into the distance.
“Hey, you’re that reporter, fella, aren’t you?” the officer asked Michael.
“Yes.”
“Damned barracudas,” the officer muttered.
“That may be, officer, but I’m the one who found out about this place. I’m just as concerned about the people being held hostage in there as you are. And when I write this story, I’m going to be letting the public know that something has to be done about this situation.”
“I suppose,” the officer admitted grudgingly.
The sound of a voice unknown to Michael boomed out over the speakers. “We’ve got a couple of dozen officers out here including a SWAT team and the
FBI. You need to lay down your weapons and come outside with your hands up.”
“Yeah, like you ain’t gonna shoot us down. My cousin just put a bullet in an officer and I know you guys ain’t gonna let that pass.” The voice of one of the men inside came through the open window.
“Not so, sir,” boomed the voice from the van. “We know your partner just got a little excited and his hand probably slipped on the trigger. No harm done. The officer is going to be fine.”
Michael knew the negotiator was just stringing the man along. He probably hoped the man was scared enough to believe him. But then again, he had threatened to gas twelve helpless seniors and probably would have done it, too. For all Michael knew, he’d been the one to kill the young man they’d found in the marsh.
One good result was that they now knew both men were in the front of the house. Obviously, they weren’t very bright. Surrounded by the police, one should have been guarding the back while the other negotiated from the front window. Now if they only knew exactly where the hostages were being held, they could come up with a plan to storm the building from the rear and get everyone out safely.
There had been no more word from the men inside the house. They’d aimed microphones toward the windows, hoping to hear the seniors. It was unlikely that they would be making no noise whatsoever unless they were dead or bound and gagged. Except for the men in the van, there was no way of knowing if any sounds were coming from the house.
By Michael’s watch, he had been on the scene for a little over an hour and the sun was beginning to heat things up. At least there were old oak trees shading the house and Michael hoped that the seniors weren’t suffering too badly from the heat.
Inside the command post, the hostage negotiator was consulting with the Feds and the two chiefs.
“Standard procedure tells me that it’s their turn to contact me, but it’s been quiet for nearly half an hour. They’ve had plenty of time to think over their situation and make a decision one way or the other.”
“I don’t think they’re going to make a decision,” Kevin Brown told the group. “I think they’re scared shitless and don’t know what to do.”
“They’re not pros,” Paul Corwin added. “They’ve got rifles, not handguns. I think they’re a couple of good old boys who’ve never bagged anything more illegal than a deer out of season.”
“If they get scared enough,” Chief Sutherland put in, “they might decide to come out shooting. Or, they might have had enough time to think of using a couple of the old folks for shields. Demand safe passage out of here in exchange for leaving the rest of the hostages behind.”
“Look, these guys aren’t thinking straight at all. The mics are picking up sounds from either side of the front door. They’re both still there. The hostages appear to be in one room on the second floor in the back. Hopefully, frick and frack had enough smarts to lock them in so if we breach, the hostages are not likely to come wandering into the line of fire.”
“So that’s what you’re saying?” the negotiator asked. “Take your chances on going in full force?”
“I would hope we’d plan better than that,” Kevin grimaced. “SWAT goes in first. Tosses in a couple of smoke grenades, then has the two geniuses on the ground and cuffed before they know what’s happening.”
“And the hostages?” Sutherland asked.
“SWAT opens the windows to clear out the smoke, then paramedics go in to take care of the seniors. They’re used to having their blood pressure and temperature taken. That should reassure them.”
“Or we can just wait them out,” Chief Patterson suggested.
“No,” Kevin said, flatly. “The hostages are under too much stress as it is. They’ve probably all been without their medication and some of them might already have had a stroke or a heart attack. I say we go in now and go in hard.”
The three men looked at each other, then at the two stern-faced agents. Sutherland was the first to nod.
“Okay. Contact SWAT and get them moving. I agree. I think we all do. We shouldn’t waste any more time.”
Michael saw one of the SWAT team talk into his shoulder mic, then drop down to slide to the back of the police line. He crawled quickly over to the man and whispered, “What’s happening? Why are you pulling back?”
The man glared at Michael. “Get back in position,” he growled, then continued crawling backwards until he reached a stone wall that surrounded the house.
When the man reached the wall, he quickly rolled over it and Michael lost sight of him. His first instinct was to follow, then heard his sister’s voice echoing in his head. Tell her yourself, Mia had said. What she’d really said was, don’t do anything stupid like getting yourself shot. So, Michael crawled back to his position, but at least he’d gotten a video of the man crawling to the fence and sliding over. As far as he knew, he was the only member of the press at the scene and the pictures and videos he’d managed to shoot were his exclusively.
“Boy, you’ve got more guts than brains,” the officer who’d berated him before said.
“Maybe I should join the FBI,” Michael chuckled quietly. But now he noticed the paramedics jumping into the ambulances and heard their motors starting up. First the SWAT guy moving out of position. Now the paramedics on the alert. Something was about to happen.
Michael snapped a couple of shots of the emergency vehicles, then made a decision. “Sorry, Mims,” he murmured. Slipping away from the officers, he crouched down as low as he could and ran toward the fence. He couldn’t miss this. He had to be there. Not just for the story, but for Julie and all the others that had been hurt by these people.
He’d meant what he’d said to the officer over an hour ago. Their story had to be told. The public needed to get involved, not just the government. These people had lived a long life and had done their bit for society. Maybe they’d been teachers or nurses, or veterans or even cops. No matter what, they deserved to be cared for. They deserved for their end of days to mean something, and Michael was going to do everything he could to make that point. If that meant putting himself in danger to get the most dramatic shots to get that across, then so be it.
Michael made his way to the back of the police line just in time to watch SWAT make their silent way to the back door. He started the video once again, hoping his battery would hold out.
Wait! Was that a can of WD-40 the lead guy had in his hand? Those guys thought of everything, Michael laughed to himself. They were squirting the inside hinges, using that little red tube to get into the crack in the old door. Then he squirted all around the knob, apparently hoping to get as much of the WD-40 inside it as possible.
Setting the can down, the leader turned the knob as slowly as he could while Michael, and everyone around him for that matter, held their breath. When the door opened without so much as a tiny squeak, they all blew out a breath that Michael was sure the perps in the house could hear.
When they were safely inside, Michael started to follow them when he was pulled to the ground.
“Are you crazy?” Forbes whispered. “How did you even get back here?”
“I … um … followed the SWAT guy,” Michael stammered. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Well it wasn’t,” Forbes growled. “And it’s a worse idea for you to follow them inside. Do you want to get them killed? Do you want to get those hostages killed?”
“I guess I didn’t think of that,” Michael admitted sheepishly. “I guess I was only thinking that I could get killed but I was being careful.”
“Idiot,” Forbes told him. “You can just be careful right where you’re sitting,”
“Um, maybe I should go back to the other side,” Michael told Forbes. “That’s where I’m supposed to be.” What he really had in mind was getting shots of the SWAT team bringing the two men out the front door.
“Yeah, right. Then I’d have to go with you to watch your back,” Forbes told him. “You already got Gordon shot and I’m not fool enough
to stick with a civilian that likes to play with fire.”
“Okay,” Michael agreed. Not so much because he thought Forbes was right. Okay, so maybe he was right. But the important thing was the paramedics had obviously gotten the signal to circle around the back and they were ready to go in to get the hostages. Forbes couldn’t stop him from following them, could he?
That was when they heard the shouting coming from inside the house, but thank God, no shots were fired. A crackling sound came through Forbes’ shoulder mic.
“We got ’em. We’re bringing them out the back so the paramedics can check them. Tell them to come on in. The scene is secure.”
That was great news, but no one, least of all Michael, felt like celebrating. They had yet to find out if the hostages were alive or if some of them had succumbed to their fear and sickness.
Michael waited until the prisoners had been escorted to the front of the house, presumably to be transported back to town. Michael imagined that Brown and Corwin would be right behind them. Their job here was done and it was up to them to handle the interrogation.
As soon as the paramedics entered the farmhouse, Michael jumped up to follow them. Or at least he tried to, but Forbes and another cop were too fast for him. They had him down on the ground, his hands pinned behind his back before he knew it.
“Look, Michael,” Forbes told him, “you start running toward that house with something in your hand … yeah, I know it’s only a phone, but the rest of the guys back here don’t. All they see is a stranger with something black in his hand, maybe going to attack the paramedics.”
“Uh,” was all Michael could say with his face pressed into the dirt.
“There’s a dozen cops back here, all primed for a firefight, so how far do you think you’re going to get before the bullets start flying?”
“Uh,” Michael said again.
“Now, I’ll contact Chief and if he gets the okay, he’ll signal the all-clear. Then Carter and I can escort you inside where you will stand back and not interfere with the guys up there doing their jobs. Got it?”
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