THE STANDOFF

Chapter Four

Marvin was very confused.

He watched the man secretly, narrowing his eyes and peering sideways. He thought that he was being careful but his brother was no fool.

"Now what's up with you?" Tig said, with a less-than-subtle note of exasperation.

Marvin didn't trust himself to speak. Any attempt at a verbal explanation would only end in disaster. Thinking quickly – for him – he reached up and scratched his nose vigorously, as though he had an itch.

Tig looked as though he had an itch as well, only he couldn't scratch it. He curled his right hand into a fist, then blew out a deep sigh and flexed his fingers again. With a shake of his head, he turned back to his whisky, which was little more than a puddle in the bottom of his glass by now.

The time was near. It was going to happen very soon – and yet the kind man was still hovering by the door. Why wouldn't he leave? I warned him, Marvin thought urgently, wishing that thoughts could simply fly from one person to another. That way he could force the man to leave before it was too late.

Nearby, Niall was still talking to the barmaid. Marvin envied him his confidence. Pretty girls made him feel so happy but they also tied his tongue in knots, with their scornful eyes and their knowing smiles. This one looked just like his mother. She had died soon after Marvin was born, but he used to look at her photograph, before Tig took it and locked it away in the old tin box he kept beneath his balled-up socks. "For safekeeping," his brother had said, and Marvin had nodded, although he could not for the life of him understand what someone else might want with an old, grey photograph. It was just so… personal. He held on to a vague hope that one day, perhaps, if he was very good and asked very nicely… well, maybe then Tig would let him look at it again. Until then, he would have to rely on his memory, poor as it was. He thought the barmaid looked like her. Maybe that was wishful thinking.

A space opened up at the bar next to Niall and a tall, dark-haired man slipped into it. He had nice blue eyes and a friendly grin, which he turned on the barmaid. She moved to serve him with a look of deep relief on her perfect face. "Can I help you?"

"Selena, right?" The smiling man was good; even better than Niall, it seemed. Marvin watched with interest. Maybe he could pick up a few tips. Niall watched too, a red flush rising up the back of his neck from his shirt collar to his hairline. The smiling man couldn't see it, but Marvin could. All the same, he guessed the man knew what he had just done. There was a twinkle in his eye as the barmaid smiled back, blanking Niall entirely. "I'll take a beer. And one for yourself, okay? Looks like you're havin'…" He gave Niall the briefest of glances. "…A difficult evening?"

"Oh, it's not so bad. In fact, that's the second drink I've been offered in the last half hour. Some people know how to treat a lady." She, too, glanced at Niall before her gaze slipped over to the kind man, who was still lurking near the coat rack in a nervous fashion, almost as though he wanted to ask it to dance but couldn't quite gather his courage. "He told you my name, I suppose? I saw you both come in together."

Oh, Marvin thought, with interest.

The tall man raised an eyebrow. Clearly, something had amused him. "Memorable, isn't he? Yeah, you got it; he's my informant. So," he added, leaning forwards. "How about that drink, Selena?"

Fluid as the beer that she was pouring, Selena filled two glasses. Sliding one of them across the bar, she let her fingers brush the man's outstretched hand. Even he was surprised by her boldness, though he tried to hide it. "Perfect," he said. "Thank you, Selena. So, you workin' all night or does a busy girl like you get a moment to herself now and then?"

Was Marvin imagining it, or did the tall man's eyes keep flicking back to Niall? Was he trying to wind him up, for goodness sake? Marvin could have told him what a bad idea that was. Beside him, Tig watched the whole scene avidly, with the concentration of a snake.

Niall cleared his throat. "You know what?" he growled. When no one responded to his question, he repeated it, slamming his hand on the bar in frustration. "You know what?"

Several people around the bar stopped and stared for a second or two, before resuming their cheerful conversations.

"Sorry," the man said smoothly, letting his own hand rest beneath Selena's gentle touch. "Were you talkin' to me?"

"I was talkin' to her," Niall ground out, sliding down from the barstool. Sadly, the stool was so high, and he was so short that it made little difference. "We were havin' a private conversation."

The tall man stood up too and drew his hand away at last. "You were talkin', sure. But was she listening?"

"No," Selena put in firmly, folding her arms and glaring. "She wasn't. Trying not to, anyway."

Niall was practically shaking by now, he was so wound up. In a heartbeat, Tig was at his side.

"Look now, what's goin' on here?" he said in a warning voice that should have told both Niall and the stranger all they needed to know. Tig wasn't asking for information. Niall's shoulders were tense but he dropped his head in submission and took a step back.

"Nothin' for you to be worryin' about, friend," said the tall man, who seemed to have some kind of death wish as far as Marvin could tell. Because he was going to be. Dead. In a matter of seconds. Tig's fingers strayed to his waistband and Marvin felt his own hands grow clammy with sweat. He was cold and scared, and wished that he had never agreed to come here.

"Look," Selena told them all warily, "we have a strict 'no fighting' policy here. I could throw you out."

"You could try." Swifter than one of Niall's cowboy heroes, Tig drew his gun – but the stranger was quick too and darted to the side. Before Marvin could even register what had happened, Tig's arm was halfway up his back and the gun was in the stranger's hand instead.

How did he do that? Marvin thought, so amazed that he almost forgot to be frightened.

Tig howled obscenities, shocking the room into silence as he twisted in the stranger's iron grip, like a fish on a hook. Niall lunged forwards to help his friend, only to be halted by the muzzle of a gun pointing in his direction. It was a dangerous moment.

But what happened next was even more alarming.

-x0x-

Stuck in his lonely corner of the room, Adam wobbled on his tiptoes and tried to watch what was going on over by the bar, but it was difficult. The crowd was an ever-shifting wall that blocked his view, for the most part. Thankfully, Flack was tall enough that Adam could just make out his head. The detective seemed to be enjoying himself as he flirted outrageously with the barmaid, all the while baiting his real target. "That's your plan?" Adam muttered with a mingled sense of awe and dismay. "Draw them out by flirting? Are you kidding me?"

And where was Danny all this time?

Adam scanned the room for any sign of his friend, but his head jerked back towards the bar when a hush fell over the crowd. Someone was cursing loudly and he guessed that the moment had come to a crisis. Don Flack could have that effect on people, sometimes. Adam longed to force his way back through the crowd and join the detective – be his back-up, however useless - but Flack had given him an order and he held to his post with grim determination.

Then the smoke alarm went off.

Adam knew – he knew that this was Danny Messer and he understood the play that they had set in motion. Clear the room. Contain the bad guys. The restless crowd became a single entity and moved with purpose towards the nearest exit. All at once, it was Adam who found – no, who placed himself centre stage with great trepidation as he stepped in front of the door and held up his trembling hands.

"Take it easy, okay?" he croaked.

"Get out of the way," said a bluff-looking business man, whose alcoholic aura was so thick around him that it was almost visible. Adam coughed and swallowed. Then he tried again.

This time, his voice was firm as he channelled his absent boss and took control. "One at a time," he ordered the man, in a fine imitation of Mac Taylor's voice, "or somebody's going to get hurt."

The drunken business man gave him a nasty look. At the same time, the front row staggered forwards, driven from the rear by a panicking group of people who couldn't see, and didn't understand why no one was leaving. They pushed with such force that Adam was pinned against the glass, with no way to move or to open the door, and with an angry red face inches from his own. The man's breath was terrible. "Help!" Adam squeaked, but only the business man heard him.

I'm going to go through the glass if they push any harder. Adam braced himself for the fall, and the pain…

Then a shot rang out and a loud voice shouted, "Stop! Just stop!"

The voice did not belong to either Flack or Danny.

That was the first bad thing.

Like frightened animals, the crowd obeyed. Adam sucked in a welcome breath as the pressure on his chest was lifted and the business man fell back. Using the door to help him balance, he teetered on the very tips of his sneakers – and blinked in surprise.

The gun was in the hand of his new 'friend', Marvin.

Marvin's eyes were wide, like marbles, and his grip was tenuous. The weapon wavered.

"Give that to me. You don't want it," a cold voice suggested – and Marvin obeyed.

That was the second bad thing.

Marvin's sharp-eyed companion, Tig, climbed up onto the bar and stared at the crowd beneath him with all the misplaced triumph of a dictator after a violent coup. "Get down on the floor," he told them. "No one leaves here until I say so."

Flack, Adam thought, full of horror, as everyone dropped to their knees around him. Where's Flack? He could no longer see the detective – and that was the worst thing of all, until he looked back up and found that the gun was now levelled at him.

"Are you deaf?" said Tig, with false politeness.

"No," Adam mumbled. "I'm sorry, okay?" His legs were shaking but they would not let him drop. He clung to the frozen glass behind him with his fingertips. This was a nightmare – and where were his friends?

"Bring him here," Tig told Marvin. "No – wait!" he continued as the giant moved to obey. "Fetch a chair."

A chair?

There were eyes upon him; wary, frightened eyes. He was the centre of everyone's attention right now and he wished with all his heart that he really could slip right through the glass and vanish.

"Here you go, Tig," said the giant, as though he were bringing the man a gift. He held up a wooden chair, tiny in his massive grip.

"Here you go." Tig nodded, turning the phrase upon Adam. "You like that door so much, you can guard it for me. With your life," he added, smiling like a predator, his sharp eyes focussed on his prey. "Tie him to it."

Marvin's jaw was slack. He did not move, but looked from one man to the other in confusion. Adam saw the shaking of his hands and pitied him.

You tried to warn me.

"It's okay," he told the giant quietly. "Just do it."

Tig snorted in derision. "I give the orders here," he announced, moving the gun in a wide arc and letting it point towards one random person after another. "Fish in a barrel," he murmured. Every little squeak of horror seemed to bring him greater satisfaction.

"Oh, for God's sake, I'll do it," said the rat-faced man who stood below him. Shouldering past Marvin, he snatched the chair away. "Move!" he told the crowd, and they shuffled aside to make a clear path to the door. Rat-face dragged the chair along behind him, unbuckling his belt as he did so.

An old familiar fear brought Adam to his knees at last.

"Too late," Rat-face told him roughly, hauling him up and depositing him on the hard seat, right in front of the glass. "Hands behind your back."

When Adam failed to obey, Rat-face wrenched his right arm backwards, followed by his left, and lashed them together firmly, looping the belt through the back of the chair as well. Discomfort would soon become pain, Adam knew, and he wriggled in his hateful bonds - until Rat-face slapped him, hard, across the left cheek. The blow was so severe that it almost knocked him sideways. Adam dropped his head and blinked away his tears. The world was watching, and he could not bear to let them see his shame. His right cheek flamed in sympathy.

By the time he looked up again, Rat-face had gone.

Adam bit his lip against the pain in his face and the dull ache which was already creeping up his arms. He stuck out his jaw and made himself focus on every single face in the crowd, one after the other, just as Tig had done. Hope still burned inside him – he wasn't alone here, he knew it. Yet, try as he might, he could not find Detective Flack.

And where, oh where was Danny?