2.
"Team One, suit up! Hot call!"
As soon as he heard those words, Sam felt an instant adrenalin spike. He loved his job, even if his current choice in profession put a strain on his relationship with his father. Contrary to what the senior Braddock might think, Sam was fully confident he was where he was supposed to be, and that he was indeed making a difference in the world.
He paused to listen to the rest of Winnie's announcement.
"Report of a suspicious package left in the lobby at Union Station, possibly a bomb."
Greg and Ed looked at each other. The same worry that had been occupying his thoughts the previous day returned to Greg in full force.
"I don't like it, Eddie," Greg muttered.
"Neither do I," Ed admitted. "You thinking this might be a copy-cat, or the real deal?"
"We won't know for sure 'til we get there," Greg said, as the pair grabbed their gear in preparation for deployment.
Wordy, Sam, Spike and Lou were doing the same. Fully decked out in their vests, communications devices and weapons, Team One assembled to depart in their assigned vehicles.
"We know anything more about this suspicious package?" Greg asked Winnie.
"Yeah, Sarge. An anonymous caller told a TTC customer service rep that there was a bomb somewhere in the station lobby, and that it was inside a black backpack. Station security personnel actually took things from there and combed the lobby. They spotted an abandoned pack and that's when they called it in."
"Thanks, Winnie," Greg said, hoping that first-responders were going to be able to make their job easier by emptying the busy station. He knew it would be no easy task, given that Union was a major point of departure and arrival for everything from trains to buses and subway lines. And after yesterday's relatively minor incident involving the smoke bomb on the streetcar, the citizens of this fair city were bound to be on edge.
"Anybody seen Jules?" Greg called out, suddenly noticing that the young woman was absent.
The other members took a quick glance around and shook their heads.
"Sam, have you seen her this morning?" Greg asked the younger man.
Sam looked a little irritated that he was being singled out. "Why are you asking me?"
"I just thought that..." Greg trailed off. "Never mind. Forget I asked."
Ed cued his communicator to contact Winnie. "Have you got a location for Constable Callaghan?" he asked the dispatcher.
"Negative on that one," Winnie answered. "I haven't seen her today, period."
"It's not like her to be late like this," Ed murmured. "If she's stuck in traffic, or something, she would have let one of us know."
Greg gave a curt nod in agreement. "Winnie," he spoke into his mouthpiece, "would you please give Constable Callaghan a call at her home? If she doesn't answer, try her cell."
"Copy that," Winnie replied, and set about dialling Jules' home line.
"Okay, we don't have the time to sit around to wait for Jules," Greg said to the rest of the team. "We move out now and deal with it later."
He got nods of affirmation from the other five, and they moved for the trucks.
En route to Union Station, Greg got the response from Winnie that Jules was not answering her home line, or her cell phone.
"Keep trying, Winnie," Greg advised her, trying to stifle the notion that something was terribly amiss. Jules was healthy, he reminded himself. She'd fully healed from her injury and was fit for reinstatement on the team. But she'd never been tardy; ever. He didn't want to have to ask Winnie to start calling hospitals...
Locking down Union Station proved to be a nightmare. Hundreds of thousands of people passed through daily, and TTC controllers were attempting to keep things running smoothly, but their efforts so far were failing miserably. Angry commuters were told to get back on buses and streetcars that had brought them there in the first place to be detoured to different stations along the route.
News bulletins went out that passengers would be facing major delays, and to avoid Union Station as it was being evacuated due to a bomb threat. Traffic down Front Street was also halted and re-routed, much to the frustration of downtown drivers.
When Jules regained consciousness, she immediately became aware that her mouth was taped shut, and that something was covering her eyes. The back of her skull ached from where she'd been pistol-whipped. She tried to move her arms, but found that her wrists were bound behind her with what felt like several layers of duct tape, and that she was seated on an uncomfortably hard chair. She tried to move her legs, but found they were similarly restrained.
Blindfolded, gagged, and bound, she thought sullenly. Just great.
The scuffle of feet grabbed her attention, and she involuntarily sucked in a sharp breath.
A couple words were spoken softly in a foreign language. Jules instinctively knew they were not being directed at her, but perhaps being shared between two people. She'd barely heard what had been said, but she was almost certain the language being spoken was Spanish.
That goes with my first impression of the guys who grabbed me, Jules thought. Hispanic. She couldn't detect any other sounds except for the pounding of her own heart and her breathing. Whoever was here with her was maintaining his or her silence at the moment. Her nose was starting to register other scents and smells. She detected the high, sweet odor of marijuana, as well as stale cigarette smoke, booze and sweat.
Head still feeling slightly woozy, Jules gave it a shake in an attempt to clear it, which of course didn't help much, and only served to aggravate her sore head. She could feel the knot of her blindfold digging into the very spot she'd been struck.
More murmured words, again in Spanish.
Then, the sound of footsteps drawing closer. Jules tensed, not knowing what to expect, praying that no further harm would come to her.
The blindfold was lifted from her face, and Jules blinked against the sudden onslaught of light from a bright overhead source.
"So, you are awake."
Jules focused on the person in front of her. It was a woman, dark-haired, brown-skinned and about thirty-five years old. The woman's face held no trace of warmth or compassion. Her dark eyes were empty, and Jules read there total contempt and hatred – which she sensed was fully directed at her.
If looks could kill, Jules thought, chilled at the notion that this stranger's eyes could convey such a strong emotion. What could this woman possibly want with me? And why?
Behind the woman stood three toughs, possibly from the same group that had abducted her.
"You don't know who I am, but I know who you are," the woman spoke in icy tones. "At least, I know what it is you have done."
The woman's voice carried an accented lilt.
Jules frowned in confusion.
"Before today is over, everyone will know what you did. And after today, you will have served as an example to all who would dare to harm a member of mi familia. Nobody – not even the policia will ever raise a weapon against us again."
What is she talking about? Jules' mind raced.
Her captor must have seen her confusion. "You have forgotten about it already? It is not even any longer in your mind what you have done?"
Jules felt the sting of a slap from the woman's rough, calloused hand, and couldn't prevent a grunt of pain from rising in her throat.
"Elena..." one of the three men spoke in a warning voice.
"I know," the woman snapped, not even bothering to look back at him. "It is not yet time..."
So, her name's 'Elena', Jules thought. And she has a major problem with me for some reason. This, of course is a big problem, since I don't have the slightest clue what that reason is...
Elena composed herself from her earlier outburst and bent down and stared directly into Jules' eyes. "You will pay for what you have done, but not before I bring your entire police force to its knees."
The cavernous lobby of Union Station was finally emptied of all commuters and non-essential personnel.
Team One had full control now, and Spike was making final calibrations to the anti-explosives robot. The suspicious backpack had been left quite in plain sight, under the large clock at the departures information center.
Greg talked over what they already knew of the situation with Ed.
"So, the first call comes in to TTC customer service, telling them that there's a bomb somewhere in the lobby here... Winnie got through to that rep and confirmed the voice sounded male, in accented English, maybe a South American accent."
"Which may or may not be the guy from yesterday on the streetcar," Ed interjected.
"Yeah," Greg responded. "Any witnesses who might have seen anybody setting that backpack down is probably long gone by now, so..."
"Boss, we just might catch a break with that one," Lou spoke up.
"What are you thinking?"
Lou turned and pointed to the end of the lobby. "Scotiabank ATMs. We might have some issues with depth of field, but if we're lucky, our mystery bomber might have been caught on the cameras."
Greg slapped his hands together, glad for the potential break. "That's good thinking, Lou. You and Wordy get on that now. We need that footage ASAP."
Lou and Wordy left immediately to obtain the security footage.
"Spike, how're things coming with Babycakes?" Greg asked.
"Almost ready, Boss," Spike responded. He picked up the boxy remote control, and with a huge grin, powered the robot, and controlled its motions down the ramp from the truck, and finally inside the lobby. "We're coming in right now."
Greg's cell phone rang, and he saw that it was Winnie.
"Hey, Winnie, have you reached Jules?"
"No, Sarge..." Winnie said haltingly. "But I have someone on the line demanding to speak to you. He says he has information about the bomb."
"Oh?" Greg sounded surprised. He put aside the nagging worry about his still-missing team member, and gave Winnie the go-ahead to patch through the caller. Ed and Sam also tuned in.
"My name's Greg Parker, and I'm with the Strategic Response Unit. Who am I speaking with?
"You don't need to know that," the voice replied, low and slightly accented.
"I see... Well, sir, you did call us. You have information that might be helpful to this situation?"
"Helpful to you, no... but helpful to me, yes."
"Care to explain what you mean by that?" Greg asked.
"Very soon, I am sure, you will discover that the explosive device in the backpack is another dud. However, unless you meet my demands, there will be several other reports of suspicious packages all over the city. And I cannot guarantee that all of those will be duds."
"So let's talk about your demands," Greg said calmly, in as non-threatening a manner as he could muster.
"Fine," the voice replied. "Ten days ago, there was a raid on a building in Parkdale by your Vice people. They seized 15 kilograms of cocaine, an unspecified amount of marijuana, and 10 kilograms of ecstacy. I want all of that returned."
Greg flashed a look of dismay and disbelief at Ed and Sam. Their expressions were equally troubled.
"Well, you know that's going to take some time," Greg said carefully. "It's going to take a lot of cooperation between my unit and the folks over in Vice. But I have to tell you sir, what you're asking for is a pretty tall order. What assurances do I have from you that you're not going to keep planting bombs all over town if I give you what you want?"
The anonymous caller gave a short laugh. "Well, I think that you really do not have any way of knowing whether or not I will stop. But let me give you an added incentive: quite apart from having to defuse bombs in random locations, unless you give me exactly what I have asked for, your team will have one less member. I think you are already aware that she missed work today? You have twenty-four hours to obtain that 'cooperation' with your Vice squad."
The line went dead.
"Hello?" Greg yelled frantically, but the caller was gone. "Winnie! Get him back!"
"Sorry, Sarge," Winnie's voice was apologetic. "He must have been using a disposable phone. Blocked ID; no GPS. We can't trace it."
"Damn it," Greg swore.
Ed scowled. "Can we be sure this guy is on the level? I mean, we have no proof he has Jules."
"How else could anyone know Jules didn't make it into work today unless they were the ones responsible?" Greg shot back angrily.
Ed pursed his lips, realising the truth of Greg's words.
"Jules..." Sam whispered, his mind and heart filling with a thousand regrets.
