Chapter Two: You Get That From a Movie or Something?

Sergeant Gregory Parker came close to throwing Pownell's cell across the room at Gil's opening line. "My name is Gil Collins and I'm here to help you."

What movie did you get that one from? This was why Greg hadn't wanted the well-meaning civilian amateur to poke so much as his pinky finger out of hiding – between what he suspected had been their hostage making a move and Gil trying to be a hero, this call was on a collision course with people getting killed.

As if to confirm his dark thought, the subject snapped, "You take one more step forward and I will cut his throat out."

Pleasant; Gil was off to an excellent start. Not. "Eddie, what do you see?"

"Our civilian's gone cowboy. He's charged in there with a big piece. All I got is his back. We breach now, we are right in the line of fire."

Greg frowned; he'd figured the gun in play was Gil's, but… He turned to Pownell. "You guys carry guns?"

The security guard's eyes went wide. "I've never touched a gun in my life."

Gil's voice drew Parker's attention back to the fledgling negotiation. "Okay, just calm down. Look, I'm gonna put the gun away. Okay? I'm putting it down." A holster creaked and the negotiator closed his eyes, focusing on the phone line, listening to every word, every nuance. "Now, listen to me. That man that you're holding, his name is Roger. He's a friend of mine, this would be a lot easier if you just lowered the blade a little."

To himself, Greg murmured, "He's humanizing the hostage."

There was a faint mumble from the injured man, prompting a sharp, "You keep your mouth shut! And you back off," from their subject.

Parker's frown deepened; Gil was pushing the subject too fast, too hard. "I'm not coming closer, I swear," the security guard replied. "Okay? You have my word. I just wanna talk. Okay? Can we just talk?" There was silence for an instant. "Okay. Thank you."

Loud enough for his team to hear, the Sergeant reported, "Subject's de-escalating."

"It wasn't supposed to go like this," their subject babbled.

For an amateur, Gil's response was mostly good. "I understand. Your name's Danny, right?"

"How'd you know that?"

Greg flinched, anticipating another escalation, but Gil recovered. "I was just outside, I overheard."

Danny seemed to accept that, for he returned to pleading his case. "It wasn't supposed to go like this. It was supposed to be fast. No one around."

"But you haven't done anything that can't be made right. All right? So let's not change that. Let's just work this out, okay?"

Hazel opened a sliver – that choice of words…'can't be made right'…it was his. Danny's anxiety grew…the negotiation was too fast, too hard. "I gotta get outta here," the trapped subject muttered. Volatile and right on the edge.

And Gil kept right up with his mix of good and bad, almost as if he'd had some training, but…incomplete… Or self-taught. "All right. I wanna help you with that. I'm just gonna talk to some people on the other end of this phone."

"Police?" Internally, the professional negotiator groaned again…why had Gil deliberately drawn attention to his active communications?

"Yes, police, okay? But they're just gonna make sure we all get out of here unharmed. Look, it's what they do. It's their job, okay? Just, let me talk to them. I'm not gonna move, I'm just gonna talk."

There was a clamor, but Gil's soft, "Sergeant?" kept Greg from hearing it all.

Nothing to be done; Gil had successfully inserted himself as the call's negotiator. Parker never let even a hint of his dismay, disapproval, and irritation into his voice. "Yeah, Gil, you're doing great. Is Roger hurt?"

"Affirmative, abdominal penetration." At least Gil was still providing good intel, even if his negotiating left much to be desired.

Smoothly, Parker switched gears. "Okay, team, we got a wounded hostage. Eddie, entry options."

Ed's response was half-expected, but a blow nonetheless – Greg did not want this situation to escalate any more than it already had.

"We got a gun, we got a knife, we got a cornered subject, we are half-blind. Alpha, you have got to get eyes in there now."

"Pole cam from the suite above," Sam suggested.

"Sam, do it now. Quick and quiet."

Leaving Eddie and his teammates to handle the tactics, Greg returned to their negotiation amateur hour. "Gil. We're working out a solution here, buddy. You just keep Danny calm."

"Will do."

"Let him know, I'd like to talk to him, but don't pressure him. Let him set the pace."

Annoyance came from the other end. "Okay, I got it."

"And don't promise him anything."

Gil's annoyance morphed into a sharp reply. "I said I got it. You do your job, I'll do mine."

Parker jerked back from the phone, an automatic frown crossing his face. Gil was acting as if he was a member of Team One. As if he had authority over an active police sergeant. And worst of all, as if he was a much better negotiator than he actually was. This is not going to end well…

"Winnie, EMS here?" We're going to need them.

"Standing by," the dispatcher reassured her boss.

Jules' report broke in next. "Boss, Lou found a keycard at the scene. The log shows a direct route from the outside into the money room. It's gotta be how Danny got in."

Greg's blood warmed with a lead. "Who is it registered to?"

"No, it's a blank," Spike explained. "After-market. If you know the system, you can make a skeleton key."

If you… "If you know the system," the Sergeant echoed grimly.

"That's where this is leading to," Lou agreed solemnly. "Sophisticated, pre-planned."

Jules overlapped with her teammate. "Either Danny's seriously upped his game…"

"Or he's got help," the negotiator finished. Without skipping a beat, he handed out new assignments. "Okay, Jules. Known associates, family history."

"On it."

"Lou, meet up with Sam; you deploy the pole cam while Sam gets back in position with Wordy. Three people on entry – you'll be getting in each other's way."

"Copy that."

"Spike, you check the stadium employee list for priors. See who pops."

"Copy." Scarlatti paused an instant. "Boss, the break-in's all over the security tape. If you're looking for an accomplice, you might wanna start with who was working the monitors."

An excellent point. Not betraying his thoughts, the officer bent a considering glance at the security guard waiting for instructions. "This your post, Decklan?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You on shift this morning?"

Guilt flickered, intensified. "Okay, look, I took a cigarette break. It was ten minutes, I swear to gawd."

Parker stiffened. "You left the monitors unattended?" His mind raced, new ideas and theories bouncing.

Shame joined guilt, even as Pownell weakly protested, "Yeah, but… Look, you gotta believe me. I don't know anything about this. I mean, Roger's a friend of mine, why would I do this to him?" Greg stared at the man, letting his gryphon side out, just a smidge. "I should have listened to Gil."

Unease pulsed, his sixth sense tingling anew. "Gil?"

"He caught us smoking this morning. Started nagging us about doing our job."

New puzzle pieces rose, slowly fitting together. "This happened today?"

Pownell shrugged. "Happens all the time. We just blew him off. I mean, that's Gil. He takes everything so seriously." He stopped, guilt and shame intensifying. "Officer, I screwed up."

Yes, he had, but Greg knew all too well that Pownell's own conscience would torment him more than the negotiator ever could. "We're gonna get your friend out of there, Decklan. It's okay." The Sergeant turned away, a fresh idea gaining traction. "Hey, Spike. Our guy Gil, he knew the monitors were unmanned."

"Well, funny you should say. He just came up."

Instinct thrummed. "Criminal record?"

But he knew…even before the bomb tech replied. "Other side of the ledger. He was a cop. Gil Collins. Looks like he's been off the force a couple of years."

"Explains the piece," Ed mused.

"And the language," Jules agreed.

"Yeah, but from cop to this?" Lou questioned.

Spike's agreement rang. "I've heard of quitting the force for the private sector, but…"

From cop to 'unarmed', low-paid security guard – and at an age when Gil's career should have been booming, a cop rising through the ranks or making his name as a beat cop…his team was right, it made no sense.

"Okay, Jules, let's pull up his police file, see who we're dealing with here."

"Copy."

Gil's voice broke into the mix. "Sergeant? Danny has some demands he'd like to pass on."

Demands…something they could work with, something they could stall with. "Okay."

Over the line, he heard their subject raise his voice, almost yelling. "I want a bulletproof vest. And I want a car. No, motorcycle. I want something fast!"

All right, what movie had their subject been watching? Did he honestly think he was walking away? "Okay, I got it, I got it. Gil, negotiation's good, that's a step forward."

"And they have twenty minutes. And I want a clear path, no cops. I see anyone and I'm gonna finish this guy off. I swear to gawd."

The fresh demands made Parker wince internally. They needed time, not a jittery, knife-happy subject who thought he was going to get one over on the cops. "Just keep him talking," Greg instructed. "Tell him we'll do our best. Just keep him engaged."

Gil didn't respond, not directly. "They're working on your demands, okay? I'm-"

"Hey, hey." The subject wasn't the only one to tense – what was Gil doing?

"I'm just gonna go stand here, okay? It's all I'm doing."

Mentally, the negotiator griped about big shot ex-cops who thought a few years on the force made them negotiators and also thought they could get away with bouncing all over the place during said negotiating. His eyes flicked towards his team leader…if Gil moved…

"Lou, I'm losing visual."

Hang it all!

Lou's response tumbled down the comm, steady even as he ran. "Two minutes."

"They have twenty minutes," their subject yelled.

Not particularly wanting Gil to negotiate any more than necessary, Parker intervened. "Hey, Gil, how's Roger doing?" Distantly, he heard someone coughing, great wet coughs that meant nothing good.

As if to back his hearing up, Gil replied, "Faster's better, Sergeant."

"I copy that." Time for a little prod of his own. "Hey, you never told me you were police, Gil."

Annoyance and something else – bitterness? – rang in Gil's retort. "Hey, I got a little bit on my plate here, Parker."

Touchy. Easily provoked. Greg held his silence as he considered the puzzle of one Gil Collins. As if on cue, Jules came back on the comm. "All right, Boss, Gil Collins was a cop on the rise. Breezed through the Academy. Couple commendations of merit, but after a few years on the force, things took a turn. Run-ins with superiors, insubordination. Got busted down. Terminated about two years ago."

"What grounds?"

Jules sounded slightly disappointed. "Not specified. Unfit for duty."

"I got something else for you, Boss," Spike sang out, not to be outdone. "I checked Gil's passcodes against the log. About three minutes before Danny entered the building, Gil walked the exact same route to the money room."

"Clearing a path," the veteran cop concluded.

"Sure looks that way," Jules agreed.

Another idea poked through. "Hey, Spike, where was Danny arrested for that credit union job?"

Seconds later, the bomb tech replied, "Dundas and Dovercourt."

Jules confirmed her boss's theory. "Fourteen division. Gil's beat."

The pieces fit, every last one of them. Greg's attention turned to the rest of his team. "Okay, team, listen up. Things are getting fluid here. I'm thinking Gil is our inside man."

Ed's voice never left a sniper's calm, but confusion buzzed in the background of Parker's awareness. "Okay, Boss make that make sense."

The scenario played out in his mind's eye even as the negotiator spoke. "Okay, let's say he set this whole thing up, it's a two-person job, he needs a bagman. So where does he turn?"

"His cop past," Wordy filled in, though there was something hovering right on the edge, as if his constable was trying to slot a clue in place.

"And Danny's got the perfect MO," Greg continued, "so Gil makes contact, keeps it anonymous and he tells him he's got a big score for him."

"Sets him up with a keycard and map," Spike offered.

The Sergeant nodded. "When no one's at the monitors, he cues Danny and they're on their way."

"A perfect inside job," Ed breathed, onboard with his boss's theory. "So the question is, what is he doing now?"

That was easy. "Covering his tracks, eliminating his accomplice."

"Or he got cold feet, wants to put the brakes on," Jules offered. Greg tilted his head, acknowledging and accepting her idea.

"Lou, I need eyes," Ed demanded.

"Seconds away," Lou hissed back.

Less than thirty seconds later, Parker heard Gil's soft, "We have a visual."

"Visual's up," Lou reported, saving Greg the trouble.

"Routing it to you right now, Boss," Spike called.

Greg turned, his eyes landing on the monitor now showing the interior of the luxury suite…and his breath caught. Gil Collins was his height, with black hair in a brushed back crew cut, dark eyes, and a snub nose. His stance was all cop, confirmation of his past, with an intense expression that Parker couldn't quite read through the distance and the camera's grain.

And… "I know him."

"Who?" The question from Ed rang, both in the headset and through the 'team sense'.

"Gil. The cop." A young cop, on the rise… "Winnie, Gil Collins, he ever try out for SRU?"

Winnie's reply clinched it. "Gil Collins. He did, twice, we have a file."

Sharp, the Sergeant ordered, "Jules, get down to the station, pull that file. I want everything we have on that guy. Psych eval, fit-for-duty tests, all of it."

"On my way."

Before he could go farther, Gil spoke up again. "Danny, I got a proposal. You let Roger go, I take his place."

"Why the hell would I do that?" Derision and scorn soaked each word and Greg snapped around, returning to the negotiation.

"What are you doing, Gil?" A trade was extremely dangerous under the best of circumstances – which these were not.

"Look at him, he's hurt real bad, you don't want him to die." Pushing, Gil was pushing again.

"How many times do I gotta tell you to stay back?"

Enough. "Gil, I need you to stop engaging and back down."

But Gil couldn't – or wouldn't – take the order. "I got this, boss. Trust me. Look, he dies, this goes really bad for you."

Tension spiked on both ends of the phone. Gil was not a negotiator, not a member of Team One – for crying out loud, he wasn't even a cop any more. And Greg was not his 'boss'! If he were, he could've reamed Collins out for escalating an already escalated subject!

"Hey, I'm warning you!" Fear lurked in the subject's sentence, but Collins didn't seem to register it.

"Let him go, he gets patched up, you take me, it's all good."

It would do no good, but he had to try, had to stall. "Gil, you're scaring him."

"Alpha team, less lethal." Mentally, Greg blessed Eddie for being so quick on the uptake.

"Copy that. Rubber bullets," Wordy confirmed, stepping into his own role as backup team leader.

"Ready," Sam confirmed, his tone grim.

"Gil, please listen to me," the negotiator begged. "You are losing him. He will attack."

The former cop didn't listen. "I'll not let that happen." A shade of darkness lingered in that tone, determination – misplaced, but present nonetheless.

In the background, the subject's howling rose to a fevered pitch. "I will cut him, and I will cut you. I will cut his throat!"

"Gotta move, Boss, we gotta move now."

"Alpha team, go. Now, now."

"Sam, gun; I've got knife on three," Wordy ordered. Silence, then, "One, two, three!"

"SRU!" Wordy bellowed as he kicked in the door.

"Police!" Sam roared next to him.

"Everyone down!"

"Drop your weapon!"

The ex-cop's hand flew back, reaching for his gun; Wordy left him to Sam, focusing on their primary subject and his wounded hostage. The subject reared back, caught off guard by the entry, but recovered, far too quickly.

"No!" he howled, raising his knife.

"No!" the ex-cop yelled. Wordy caught a flash of a raised weapon, then the report echoed. He and Sam both fired, rubber bullets impacting subject and security guard alike. The injured security guard collapsed, a fresh wound in his shoulder. Gunshot. Another round came from Sam's direction, then the big constable was by the gravely injured hostage.

"Hostage took a round, Sarge. Our security guard fired."

Behind him, Wordy heard the ex-cop breathe, "You breached. You startled him, I had no choice."

"Drop your weapon!" Sam roared.

"I had no choice!"

"I said drop your weapon! Drop your weapon now!"

Wordy twisted around, but their would-be hero finally dropped his gun; Braddock bent to retrieve it…right as their primary subject recovered enough to run.

"Oh, no, you don't," Wordy snapped, grabbing the subject's arm. Sam latched onto the other side, his expression just as fierce. Naturally, that was when Gil decided to run. Towards the balcony.

"Subject on the move," Ed called.

Sam darted after their runaway, leaving Wordy to handle the knife wielder. "Hey, stay where you are. Gil, stop right there."

Wordy heard the sounds of someone swinging over the balcony and cringed. Whatever crimes Gil had committed weren't worth dying for. His teammate called, "Gil, give me your hand. Come on, don't risk it. Here. Don't do this, Gil."

But apparently their rogue security guard knew what he was doing…and it wasn't a one-way trip with a sudden stop because the tenor of Sam's words changed from plea to order. "Gil. Gil, stop!"

Grim, Wordy snicked the cuffs in place on their first subject. "Subject secured. Get EMS in here."

As he spoke, Sam raced past him, on the trail of their security guard, but Wordy had a feeling Collins had given them the slip. A feeling that was confirmed when Sam's frustrated, "I lost him," came over the comm. "Spike?"

Spike's reply was just as frustrated. "He's in the blind spots. No, wait. West, maybe."

"Can you get a lock on his cell phone?" Ed asked.

Frustration vanished into determination. "On it."

Over the radio, Wordy heard his boss talking to their 911 caller. "Decklan, what was in the safe today?"

Pownell's shrug was audible. "Some register floats. Maybe a thousand bucks."

A thousand bucks? Not much of a big score. "And on a big day?" Sarge pressed.

"Game night? Probably a C$150,000 goes through there."

Mentally, Wordy whistled, already putting fresh pieces together. Ed's question was almost surprising; the big constable wasn't used to being quicker on the uptake than his best friend. "What are you thinking, Boss?"

"I'm thinking this wasn't about money. I'm thinking this was about being a cop again."

Spike sounded incredulous. "He set this whole thing up so he could stop it?"

"Step in and save the day," Ed mused.

"Prove that he's SRU material after all."

It made sense, but then…why run? Wordy shivered, suddenly wishing Sam had been able to catch Collins. Because what did Collins have left now that his gambit had failed, utterly?

The darkest parts of his soul answered.

Revenge.

Author note: On a RL note, talk about zero to sixty! Monday was quiet, but then I got a call on my cell Tuesday morning demanding to know why I wasn't on the 7:30 AM call that they hadn't sent out invites to until 7 PM Monday night! I guess I'm supposed to be available 24/7, especially since these 7:30 AM calls are going on for the rest of the month and I just got an email that I will need to be on a call that's from 9 PM to 3 AM. Ugh. But I bet I'm supposed to be available all of today and continue to keep setting up my computer as well as taking the required eLearning courses.

Please pray for me, guys. I'm not used to all-nighters or being on call like this. Part of me wants to hope this is just for the start, but I suspect it's just the beginning. So much for the 'max' of 10 hours per day narrative that my manager was pushing yesterday...