The ring leader was wrapping up a phone conversation with the negotiating team.
"That's right. Fifteen people in here and each and every one of their lives is now dependent on the way you behave. So don't depart from police procedure or there is gonna be a lot more paperwork to do … in the morgue."
The hostages all tensed up. Tiffany again reflexively reached for her daughter. Henchman 3 shook his head at her as she did, pointing his weapon her way. Her hands withdrew in opposition to every other instinct in her body. But she knew enough from personal experience that this wasn't the time or place to test these people. She thought of her husband, tried to think of what he would do in this situation. Probably something heroic that would save dozens of lives at the risk of his own, she thought. She tried to put that aside by wondering what these men were up to. This didn't seem like a garden-variety bank robbery, they weren't taking money or anything else. They must be after something else. But what?
Sean fiddled with his wedding ring at his desk. He couldn't reach his wife or daughter by phone, but that wasn't really that unusual. In the bowels of a Boston mall, up to their necks in packages, they wouldn't be likely to answer the phone, if they had a connection at all. And even though that had happened dozens of times before, he still had a bad feeling about this one.
Ellie knocked very lightly at the door, almost hoping she wouldn't be asked in.
"Yeah, Ellie, come in."
Ellie walked in and took about three or four steps into the room.
"Did Reynolds call from the scene?"
"Yes," she said in about as faint a whisper as possible.
"How many hostages?"
"Fifteen," she managed to eke out.
"Does he want me to come down there?"
Ellie nodded. She knew she had to tell him, but she couldn't get the words to come out. She pointed weakly at the framed photo on his desk of Sean with his wife and daughter. "They're there."
"They who?" Sean looked up, quizzically. When he saw Ellie's pale countenance, he knew the answer. Every muscle in his body tensed and he sprang out of his chair, grabbing his coat off the back.
"I'll stay here," Ellie said. "Call me if I can do anything. … if you … if anything happens."
Sean nodded briskly as he exited. Ellie leaned back against the chair and looked over to the photos of the Donelys in a much happier time. "Please," she pleaded to no one in particular.
Reynolds looked over the list of hostages and the list of negotiations he had procured from the person he presumed was currently running things inside in the bank. There were 15 hostages and five things on the list that he wanted the police to procure. In theory, they would receive one of the hostages for each of the demands that were met.
He looked again at the hostage list. Tiffany and Maren's names popped out at him.
"Smart lady," he said pointing down to where Maren's last name was listed as Hill. "If the bad guys knew they had members the police chief's family among their hostages, it would be an even bigger trump card they could play at will. … You better keep your hands off of them if you know what's good for you," he thought aloud.
"What was that, Reynolds?" asked a nearby officer.
"Nothing. … Let's get those first items on the list to the front door ASAP. The standard hostage top five."
"What do these guys do, get a handbook when they start to plan something like this?" the uniformed officer replied.
"Hope you get the wisecracks out of your system before Chief Donely gets here, Simmons. Just line up the food and other supplies they asked for and some plainclothes officers in bullet-proof vests to take them to the door."
"Yes, sir."
From inside the bank, the ring leader peeked through a blind at the squad cars.
"Everything seems to proceeding as planned," he said more for his own benefit more than anyone else's. "We'll be letting five of you go in about 15 minutes."
"You," he said, pointing to a pregnant lady who had been standing in front of Tiffany and Maren in line. "We'll send the bank manager out too, his ugly face should prove to the cops out there that we mean business."
Another alarm went off in Tiffany's head. If they were going to show to the police that they were willing to hurt innocent people in the process, this wasn't going to just be over in a couple of hours. She wanted more than anything in the world for them to say Maren could be the next person to walk out the door, but she knew it wouldn't happen. The ring leader knew he had a commodity in the daughter of a television broadcaster.
"You," he said, pointing to a skeevy-looking young man who seemed to be observing the bad guys' moves with a lot of interest.
"I don't mind staying," the man said.
"That's exactly why you're going. This isn't Club Med. You're not supposed to want to be here, sicko."
"I'm the sicko? I'm not the one holding people hostage."
"You're not the one who is going to kill someone who doesn't follow instructions he's given, either," the ring leader said.
"OK, I'm going, I'm going." The man put his hands over his head in dramatic fashion and started walking away from the other hostages and toward the place the ring leader was pointing out. As he passed one of the other bad guys, he tripped him and tried to grab the weapon. For his trouble, the ring leader slammed him across the jaw with his machine gun. The would-be hero crumpled to the floor in an instant.
Outside Sean Donely's black sedan screeched to a halt inches away from the police yellow tape. He jumped out of the car and worked his way through an increasing crowd of curiosity seekers to Reynolds.
"Anything yet?"
"No, boss."
"If someone hurts one hair on either of their heads, I swear I will turn in my badge and take care of them my own way," Sean said determinedly.
"It's not going to get that far," Reynolds said. "We have their list of demands, we're about to make an exchange for the first five hostages. It seems like they're going by the book so far."
"That's what worries me. Let me see the list," Sean said and Reynolds handed it over.
Inside the bank, the ring leader was smirking broadly as he again easily knocked over the pained would-be hero.
"I'm sort of glad this happened," the ring leader said. "I think all of you, and the police, were very much in need of a little example of what will happen if you don't follow our instructions to the letter. Now we have one. Get up!"
The man stumbled to his feet, then fell over again.
"Ms. Hill, if you don't mind…" the ring leader said and gestured to the victim.
Tiffany slowly rose to her feet, looking back at her daughter as she rose to help the man.
"Don't try anything."
"I'm not interested in ending up in a heap on the floor," Tiffany said.
"Excellent."
A series of loud knocks at the door interrupted. The ring leader crossed to Maren, pulled her to her feet and put his gun in the small of her back.
"Take the pregnant woman, this wreck (he pointed to the guy she was helping to his feet), the bank guard, the manager and this skittish-looking woman to the door. Get the keys from the guard and unlock the door slowly."
Tiffany tried to keep eye contact with the ring leader, but her focus kept shifting to her daughter, who was trembling.
"If they have the food, water, cell phones, blankets and a television, you can send these people out. If they don't, relock the door and everyone stays."
Tiffany did as instructed. She opened the door to five police officers carrying the items.
"Tell them to put them down and step back!" the ring leader yelled from within the bank.
Tiffany didn't have to, the officers heard and did so.
"Make sure everything is there," the ring leader bellowed.
Tiffany gingerly stepped out of the bank, she tried to scan the crowd for Sean, but didn't see him in the mass of officers and patrol cards about 1,000 feet away. She looked down at the boxes,
"Everything's here," she reported back.
"You five can go," the ring leader said and the five hostages swiftly moved past Tiffany.
"Bring those things inside the door and lock it."
Tiffany started picking up the boxes, struggling a little with the one marked water, surveying the crowd the whole time. As she picked up the blankets box, she finally Sean to her far right. She couldn't see him that closely, just a very rigid form with his hands on his hips. Tiffany took a deep breath and stepped back inside the bank, locking the big door behind her.
Sean's heart had jumped into his mouth when he saw his wife emerge for a couple of minutes. After she closed the door, Reynolds and a couple of officers rushed over to the released hostages; he had already noted Maren wasn't among them. Sean couldn't move, he didn't know what to do. He'd been involved in hundreds of hostage situations over the years, but not one in which his whole world was at risk.
He half-heartedly stepped forward to hear what the hostages had to say. The bank manager was recounting his visit to the vault that had gotten him beaten up.
"They didn't seem to want anything, they beat me up anyway," he said.
"Stall tactic," Sean said under his breath.
Reynolds was helping the would-be hero to an ambulance. "What did you think you were going to do?" the detective asked him.
"I didn't know, it seems so stupid right now that I tried to get his gun. The women … I wanted him to release the women, but the main guy, he just seemed to sense I'd be trouble."
"Is anyone else in there hurt?" Reynolds asked.
"No, they're all sitting in a group together in the corner. Lots of scared people, but the only ones who were touched at all were me and the bank manager."
Sean rubbed his hand over his five o'clock shadow. "This isn't about a bank robbery," he said.
"I think you're right, boss," Reynolds said. "It seems like a smokescreen for something bigger. But what could they want?"
"I think we're going to find out real soon."
No sooner had the words come out of his mouth than a squad of cars pulled up to the scene. The seal on all the doors was the same: WSB. The limited amount of control Sean may have had over the crime scene was now gone.
"Sweetheart … Maren … hang in there. I think this is about to get bumpy," he said to himself as he walked over to the WSB throng.
