by Cat Johnson
That Chavez hadn’t also texted told him the situation might be bad down there. With no time to waste, he typed in three words, then added three more before he hit send.
On my way. I love you.
As he shoved the cell into his pocket, he didn’t let himself think those might be the last words she ever got from him.
Slowly he opened the door and peered into the hall. He pulled the door open wider and leaned out, looking first left and then right.
Seeing it was clear, he ran for the emergency stairs. He couldn’t risk standing there like a fool with nothing but a knife and a backpack if the elevator doors opened onto one of the shooters.
How many attackers were there? Maggie’s text had been singular, not plural, but he wasn’t going to rely on that.
Very aware he hadn’t felt another text alert come through from her, he ran faster, leaping over the last three steps at each landing rather than taking them one at a time.
Finally he was at the door that would open onto the ballroom level.
He doubted the attackers, if there were more than one, had someone watching the emergency stairs. The stairwell was too far from the elevators and the ballroom entrance. He knew because he’d swung by to check out the layout on his way down to breakfast this morning.
Silas grabbed the doorknob and eased open the stairwell door, pressing his eye to the crack. He saw a kid dressed in a white apron running toward him.
As far as he could see the kid was young and unarmed. Probably kitchen help. Maybe a busboy.
Silas flattened himself against the wall and waited. When the door opened he reached out and hauled the kid back against him with one hand covering his mouth and the other twisting his arm behind him.
The kid struggled for a second then went still.
“Do you speak English?” he asked.
The kid nodded.
“I’m going to ease my hand away from your mouth. If you scream I’m going to break your neck. Understand?”
After a pause, the kid dipped his head once.
“Good.” Silas moved his hand and hooked his elbow around the kid’s neck, applying just enough pressure to scare him, but not so much he couldn’t talk or breathe. “Tell me what’s happening in the ballroom.”
“There are men with guns.”
“How did you see them?” he asked.
“I was supposed to go inside and check the water and glasses. I opened the door. I saw one man with a gun. I heard the other shouting at the people.”
“They didn’t see you?” Silas asked.
“No. I’d opened the side door quiet so I wouldn’t bother the people.”
That made sense, but Silas still wasn’t ready to exonerate this kid of any guilt.
He needed more information. “How many men?”
“Two, I think. I don’t know.”
“What kind of gun did he have?”
“A big gun. I didn’t see the other man.”
“You said you heard him. What was he saying?”
“He told them to get on the floor and put their hands on their head.”
Which was why Maggie couldn’t reply to his text.
One more question, for his own comfort more than anything else. “Was anyone hurt?”
The kid shook his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t see. I don’t think so. I heard no gunshots.”
Silas blew out a breath. That was the one piece of good news.
He probably had as much information about the attackers as he was going to get out of this kid, but the boy would still be able to help him more.
As an employee, he would know this hotel. All of it. The service areas, not just the public areas. It was a long shot the kid would know about the hotel security but Silas could ask that too.
He heard sirens. Someone had called the police.
The sound of automatic gunfire had him stiffening. The sound didn’t come from the direction of the ballroom, but rather from down the stairs. The lobby.
The police must be here but the bad guys had obviously put a gunman at the entrance to prevent them coming in.
“Are there security guards inside the hotel?” he asked the boy.
He shook his head. “There is one outside.”
“Yeah. At the gate. I know.” Silas sighed.
Think! What could he do with what he had?
His eyes widened when he thought of something that might help him.
The NVGs. It might be daytime but that ballroom had no windows. If the lights went out it would be black as night. The bad guys wouldn’t have night vision goggles for a daytime attack, but Silas did.
There’d be light switches all over the damn room. He couldn’t get inside to kill the lights, but maybe he could do something better. Kill the power.
He loosened his hold on the kid, turning the boy to face him. “Do you know where the electrical panel is?”
The boy’s brows drew together in a frown.
From the recesses of his mind, Silas pulled out his limited knowledge of Arabic. Luckily the word for electricity was one he’d had to learn, given some of the places he’d been.
In a mangled mix of English and Arabic, he repeated the request to the boy. Finally his eyes widened and he nodded.
“You know where it is?” Silas asked, afraid to get excited, all while knowing every second that ticked by could mean lives. And one of those lives at stake was Maggie’s.
He’d lost Jonas. He wasn’t going to lose her too.
“Yes, I know,” the boy said.
“Can you show me?” Silas asked.
“Yes.” He nodded with more vigor than before.
Silas hated having to put his faith in this kid. But he was out of options. He had to trust the kid whether he liked it or not.
Resigned, he said, “Show me.”
The kid pointed toward the door he’d come through. “That way.”
On the second floor where there were at least two gunman? Silas blew out a breath.
Could he trust this kid? He didn’t know if the boy was involved somehow with whoever had taken control of the building. The kid was young but he was fighting age. He could lead Silas right into an ambush.
“Where exactly? Tell me.”
“A room. Small. We keep . . .” The kid pressed his lips together visibly searching for the word that escaped him. Finally he rubbed his fingers on his apron and said, “Cloth?”
“Linens?”
The kid nodded.
“You’ve seen the electrical box there?”
The boy nodded again.
A linen closet near the ballroom. That made sense. It could very well have the electrical panel in it that controlled the lights inside. He’d soon find out.
“Okay. Let’s go. You’re going to take me there. Not one word. Understand?”
Wide-eyed the kid nodded again.
Not completely trusting him, Silas kept a tight hold on the kid’s slim arm as he eased open the door with his free hand.
The boy hung back. He couldn’t blame him. The kid had been running away from the gunman when Silas had grabbed him. And now he was asking the kid to go back toward the danger.
The hallway was empty. Luck was on their side.
Silas motioned the kid forward. “Which way?”
The kid pointed to the right, away from the main doors. Perfect.
They moved fast and quiet. The kid, young and underweight, was quick and light on his feet. Finally they reached a door. The boy glanced at Silas and pointed to the door.
Silas reached out but the knob wouldn’t turn. He looked at the boy.
“They lock it,” he said quietly. “People steal.”
The manager must carry the key and only open it when necessary. That was fine. Silas was carrying his own set of keys.
Swinging his backpack off his shoulder, he dropped to one knee on the floor, pulling the kid down with him.
He had his pack unzipped and his lock pick set out in seconds. It didn’t take much lo
nger than that to open the lock, all as the kid watched, wide-eyed.
With the door open, Silas pulled the boy to his feet as he stood. He flipped on the lights and moved inside the room, taking the boy with him and closing the door behind them.
One glance told him the boy had been correct. Half hidden behind a shelving unit was the electrical panel. He opened the cover and saw the circuit breakers inside.
He set his bag on the shelf and reached inside, pulling out the NVGs. He was going to have to be fast. Kill the power and get into the ballroom through the side door while the gunmen were still disoriented . . . and before they opened fire on the hostages.
Silas slid the rope into his pocket, and slipped the NVGs over his head, leaving the lenses flipped up.
He looked at the boy. “I’m going to turn off the lights then go into the ballroom and take care of the gunmen. You stay here and hide. Okay?”
Nodding, the kid looked terrified as his gaze tracked the knife Silas took out of his backpack. Good. Maybe he was scared enough to do as he was told.
“Okay. Going dark.” After pulling the backpack’s straps over his arms, Silas held the sheathed knife between his teeth and used both hands to flip all the circuit breakers off.
With the night vision goggles flipped down and the knife in his hand, he pulled open the door and headed into the hall, running for the side entrance to the ballroom.
CHAPTER 16
Inside the ballroom was chaos.
Silas heard it even before he could see it through the green glow of the NVGs.
It was easy enough to locate the first gunman. He was standing and yelling while waving what looked like an AK-47.
He was near the sidewall, but facing the room, not the door. Perfect.
In a few long strides Silas covered the distance between them. A few seconds later, he silently eased the gunman to the floor.
He relieved the man of his weapon and his ammo as the life’s blood drained from his limp body.
Silas couldn’t ignore the hostages that surrounded him. Even in the dark, they’d have heard the gurgling of the dying man.
“I’m here to help,” he said barely above a whisper. “Stay down. Stay quiet.”
Rising on his knees so he could see over the chairs blocking his view, he turned his attention to locating the second gunman.
The kid had said he’d heard him the room but hadn’t seen him. Silas saw why. He was all the way on the other side of the room by the main entrance to the ballroom where there were three sets of double doors.
It was too far for him to make his way across the room to take him out with the knife like he had his partner, but Silas had a better weapon now.
Silas raised the gun. He didn’t have much time.
The gunman had noticed his partner’s sudden silence and wasn’t taking it well. He was visibly agitated, yelling while swinging the weapon wildly.
Silas hated taking a shot in a room full of civilians. Desperate people were unpredictable. Someone could decide to attempt an escape in the dark and jump up into his line of fire.
He had no choice. Finger on the trigger, he blew out a breath and squeezed.
The asshole attackers had no suppressors on their weapons like Silas was used to. The sound was deafening against his ear. The hostages didn’t react any better to the noise. He heard screams, a few sobs, but none of it mattered because the man in his sights crumbled to the ground.
Silas knew better than to expose himself or the hostages without confirming the target was disabled.
Keeping low, he skirted the hostages on the ground and made his way as fast as he could to the location of the second gunman. When he got to him, he found the man down but still alive.
He took control of the weapon then flipped the man onto his stomach and planted his knee in his back.
It would have been very satisfying to end this bastard’s life with a double tap to the head, but Silas had to be satisfied with tying him up. He could be a source of valuable information regarding the attack. Who’d planned it. Why.
Rocking back on his knees, Silas took a breath.
This thing was far from over. He couldn’t be sure there weren’t more attackers in the room, lying in wait.
There was still the gunman in the lobby keeping the authorities outside. On top of that, he was in possession of two weapons and if the authorities did make it inside he’d be the first one in their crosshairs when the lights came on because they wouldn’t know he was on their side.
Silas was used to having backup. He could operate alone but he was better as part of a team.
He could use a team to back him up right about now.
Maybe he had one. There were those few bodyguards he’d spotted with some of the summit attendees. They could hold the room and keep everyone inside safe while he went to deal with the gunman in the lobby.
The room was loud with conversation, crying, cell phones beeping and buzzing, all as the hostages began to figure out they were no longer in immediate danger.
From his position on the floor, Silas shouted. “Quiet!”
The group, amazingly, listened and quieted down.
“I’m Lieutenant Commander Silas Branson. Formerly of the US Navy. Currently with the US Department of Homeland Security. The two gunmen are down but I need help. Who here is carrying a gun?”
“I am.” A voice with a foreign accent came to him from across the room.
“Me too.” That answer was from closer.
Two. That was good enough.
“All right. I need you two to maintain control of this room and protect these people until I can deal with the shooter in the lobby and determine if there are any more.”
“We can not see,” one man said.
“Yeah. That was me. I killed the electric. I’ll turn it back on.”
The lobby had windows so the electricity being off wouldn’t help him downstairs anyway. He’d have to use the element of surprise and the AKs he’d acquired.
He needed to go, but there was one thing he needed to know first. “Is Maggie Branson in the room?” he shouted.
“I’m here.” Her voice broke as she spoke.
“You okay?” He stood to search for her but in a room where it seemed everyone was suddenly moving, he couldn’t find her.
“She’s unharmed, Si. Shaken up, but I’ve got her,” Chavez called from the middle of the room. “I’ll take care of Maggie until you’re back. You just go and get that last bastard and get us the fuck out of here.”
“Yes, sir.” He wanted nothing more.
Silas eased open one of the main doors. The hallway was still clear. He skirted around the corner and pushed open the linen room door.
The boy let out a yelp.
“Just me, kid.” Silas took a small flashlight out of his pocket and flipped up the NVGs.
By the beam of the penlight he navigated to the electrical panel and started flipping the breakers back on.
When the lights came up he spared a quick glance backward. “Stay here.”
“You didn’t get them?” the boy asked.
“I did. Two, but there’s more.”
The kid’s ever-expressive eyes widened. “You’ll get them all.”
Silas nodded. The kid was right. He would, or die trying.
Out in the hall, it was all he could do to stop himself from peeking into the ballroom just to see with his own eyes that Maggie was safe.
He’d have to trust Chavez.
Silas moved fast down the hall, stopping at the door to the stairs. He stilled and listened for any indication that the attacker might be on his way upstairs to check on his partners.
Hearing none, he eased open the door and leaned over the staircase.
With the coast clear, he treaded as silently down as he could in the damn leather dress shoes he was wearing.
If they all got out of this thing unscathed, he was going to discuss the impracticality of regular business wear during an attack with his boss.
>
Silas pressed against the wall by the door to the first floor and listened.
He heard a man speaking, fast and loud. In between his foreign words was the sound of a woman sobbing.
She spoke in a regional dialect that made it hard for Silas to understand her words, but he felt the tone behind them.
Fear. Panic. If he wasn’t mistaken, she was begging for her life.
Now would have been another good time for his non-existent team to back him up.
Hell, he wasn’t greedy. Never mind a full SEAL team. He’d settle for a smoke bomb or a flash bang right about now. He needed a diversion.
He remembered his backpack.
He’d picked up a pack of matches from the bowl filled with them on the hostess desk in the restaurant last night. He’d tossed them into his pack in his room when he’d emptied his pants pockets before showering this morning.
Glancing up, he saw the sprinkler head.
With any luck . . . he struck a match and reached up, holding the flame right below the small metal valve.
Amid flashing lights and a deafening alarm, water began to spray from the device.
Diversion accomplished. He loved when things worked out according to plan.
With a renewed surge of adrenaline pulsing through his body, he squinted against the water hitting him and eased open the door a crack. The noise from the lobby grew louder—clearer now that the door was open.
Though the alarm sounded throughout the building, the sprinklers going off seemed to be confined to the stairwell.
He slipped through the door and down the hall until he could see a portion of the lobby and the concierge desk conveniently located nearby.
The gunman was losing his shit by the time Silas got eyes on him from his vantage point.
Whoever the attackers were, they didn’t respond well to adversity. They’d make shitty SEALs, that was for sure, but the gunman’s agitation worked in Silas’s favor now.
When the gunman’s attention was turned toward the front desk attendants he continued to scream at, Silas moved to hide behind the concierge desk.
One of the women on the floor in the center of the lobby spotted him. Her eyes widened at the sight of him squatting with two AKs behind the desk. He hoped the fact he was in a damn business suit and was hiding from the bad guys gave her a clue he wasn’t with them.