Chapter 4-Plans and Preparations
Two Days Earlier
Will Mires nervously glanced over at the spot where he last saw his brother. He had never seen him so angry, or so determined. Shuddering, Will tried to make himself very small against the wall. It was one thing to jack a car or rob an OTB, but to go into the NYPD? Hell that was suicide! Scott wasn't taking no for an answer though. He had grilled and beaten Melinda for weeks to get every detail from her about the squad room. Why the hell did Melinda even mention Scott to those detectives? What the hell was she doing near the water anyway? And getting picked up by those detectives was just plain stupid. Did she know that it would be packed with cops down there looking for who killed that banker? And then to tell those detectives about Scott! Will peeked over at her; her chest barely moved and Will couldn't remember when Scott had given her anything to eat. How many days can you go without food he wondered?
He longed for the syringe that sat on the table across the room. His body screamed for it, sweated for it. He couldn't show it. Steel. Nerves of steel, just like Scott taught him. He could, no, he had to resist it. Otherwise he would be weak, and Scott had no use for weakness. He glanced once more at Melinda, lying in a naked huddled lump in the corner, dark purple bruises covering her body. Will found his resolve to go without the syringe for a while longer; no way did he want to end up broken, beaten and raped like that. Scott wouldn't hesitate to show him the same treatment he showed Melinda. Perhaps even worse since Scott was his brother.
The metal door to the room slammed open, bouncing off the concrete wall. A large figure stood in the doorway. Taking a step into the room, the light reflected off the sweat that glistened off his 6'7" muscular frame. His blond hair was cropped short, in military style. He wore camouflaged pants tucked into his tightly laced black combat boots. His brown t-shirt, with the sleeves cut-off, completed his uniform. Nothing about his dress or demeanor even suggested that he wasn't a cold-blooded killer. Kneeling down in front of Will, the imposing figure tilted his head up. "Holding up?" Swallowing, Will just nodded. Standing up, the man walked to the table and picked up the syringe. Kneeling down in front of Will again, he held the syringe up. It took everything that Will had not to grab the syringe out of his hands. Grinning, the man studied him. "I'll give it to you, but you have to do something first, ok?"
Will nodded, his eyes focused on the syringe. He would do anything for that syringe.
Grinning, the man turned his head to gaze at Melinda. Reaching down into his boots, he pulled out a large black knife. The four inch long seriated blade curved near the tip into a straight edge. The black metal did not reflect the light, it absorbed it. Scott expertly tilted the knife in his hand, then handed it to his younger brother, Will. "Kill her, little brother."
Will hesitated for a moment. In the back of his mind, an old memory stirred, "You are going down a dark, dark road, Will. And I have no desire to see the person who emerges from the end of that journey." Scott wove the syringe in between his fingers, taunting him. The syringe made the decision for him. Gripping the knife, he moved over to Melinda.
Earlier that Morning
Scott glanced up at Tom as he walked back into the warehouse. Tom jerked his head in acknowledgment. Nodding, Scott returned to getting his gear ready. After nearly four years as Special Forces, he knew he couldn't miss a detail. He slid the last ammo cartridge into his pack, and studied his crew. After his discharge from the Army, he settled in New York running his own crew of ex-Army guys. There was very little criminal activity he wasn't involved in, and the cops had no knowledge of it.
At least they didn't until that stupid cow Melinda opened her big mouth. She couldn't have blabbed to a regular patrol officer either. She had to blab to NYPD's elite Major Case, he thought, shaking his head; more like Major pain in the Ass Squad. Now he had to go in and clean up the mess she created. Stupid bch.
Motioning his crew over to him, he gave them their orders. "Ok, Tom, Lou and Trac, I want you to take the main entrance. As soon as you arrive, be sure to shut down the elevators and secure the stairs. Will and I will come up the back way and secure that exit. Set the explosives on the doors as soon as it's secure."
Narrowing his gaze at them, he continued, "Don't talk. The less these guys hear your voices, the better off we'll be. Lou and Tom, as soon as we have the room secured, begin getting their weapons and cell phones; don't hesitate to shoot if needed. Trac will cut the regular phone and internet lines." Gazing at them once more, he pulled the black ski mask over his face, "Let's do this."
Putting his arm around his little brother, he spoke quietly to him. "Don't worry about it, Will. We'll be in and out before you know it. Maybe take a few of those cops with us." Patting his back, Scott smirked, "They'll never know what hit 'em."
Scott and Will came up the back stairs. Luck was indeed with them, Scott thought. No one had even seen them enter through the back stairs, especially since someone had been careless enough to leave the door slightly ajar. Scott stood by the gray metal door with Major Case Squad etched in it. Checking his watch, he waited. Then he heard the sounds of shouting and gunfire. Curse Trac, he started a full minute early. Shrugging, he opened the door and pulled out his 9mm. No one was in this room except for a couple of cons in the holding cell, waiting to be moved. Scott ignored them.
Heading towards the doorway, he saw brief movement in the hallway. A quick check revealed two cops in the hall, their attention focused in the other direction. Scott could hear the chaos that his crew was making. Grinning underneath the mask, he prepared to take care of the two in the hallway. To his delight, both were headed right towards him. Without a moment's hesitation, he took the butt of his gun and knocked both of them out.
He gestured Will towards another room. Will nodded and headed into the room, stepped out and gave him thumbs up. Will continued down the hallway checking two more rooms, giving the thumbs up sign each time. Scott reached down and grabbed the first cop's arms and began to drag him into the first room.
Will came and helped him, which was good because this guy was heavy. Scott looked him over and estimated him to be about 6'4"; not much shorter than himself. He studied the cop for a moment. The cop's graying hair and weight made him look like a push-over, yet something in his gut told him to watch this one closely. Very closely. He waved Will back into the hallway for the other cop, while he checked out the room. Noticing the sign on the door, he grinned. Interrogation Room, perfect.
In less than thirty minutes, his crew had control over the entire squad room. Everything had gone according to plan. Scott leaned back and propped his feet up on the desk. According to the sign on the door, it belonged to Danny Ross. Scott didn't care; right now it served as his command post. He had his crew put all the men into the two interrogation rooms, while the women were put in one of the glass conference rooms. One of the women was pregnant; that could help him out later. Scott surveyed his conquest, and relished in the sweet smell of victory.