Restoration
Chapter 64
Using a restroom with all his gear on is never easy. Jackson can unzip his fly without bumping up against anything on his utility belt, but he has to take it off to sit on a porcelain throne. For him, that's maybe once a day – unless he's nervous. He doesn't know how the women cope with a 12-hour shift.
Jackson's nervous now. The conflict with his father and the abruptly ending conversations when he enters the locker room are bad enough. But since the rapid explosion of anti-police protests, some white cops are giving him "the look." He's always known the L.A.P.D. has its share of racists. The O.J. trial, Rodney King, the higher percentages of black and brown arrests, have kept it in front of the public since before he can remember. But until now, he believed his father made it to the upper ranks by excelling. That was his plan as well. Now everything in his life is turned on its ear, including his digestion. He's going to be here a while, and Lopez isn't going to like it."
"This donut is crap!" a patron shouts, dropping from a stool at a high table and stomping toward the counter. He holds up a half-eaten maple bar. "There's no cream in this, and the frosting tastes like sh*t."
A manager pops out from the back office. "Sir, we always strive to satisfy our customers. Is there another donut you would like, or a coffee – on the house?"
The protesting customer pounds the glass display case with his fist, drawing the attention of everyone in the shop, except for one man slowly rising from his seat at a table near the door. "What good would another donut do? They're all sh*t. So's your coffee. The health department should put up a sign warning people away. I want my money back!"
"Of course," the manager agrees, making his way toward the register. "That was one maple bar." He opens the cash drawer. "That would be $2.75."
The second man lunges forward, his gun pointed at the manager. "While you've got it open, you can just give us all the cash in there."
Jackson can hear the raised voices through the men's room door. Usually, police stay away from customer service complaints. The presence of a uniform can be intimidating on both sides and even escalate the conflict. But a sudden silence suggests more than the settling of a minor dispute. He eases the door open just enough for a peek and rapidly takes in the situation. The place is packed with patrons. If he just bursts out, with his weapon drawn, someone could easily get hurt. He desperately texts his sit rep to Lopez, mentally crossing his fingers that his T.O. will know what to do.
The 30 seconds until Jackson receives an answering text seem like hours, but the order is clear enough: "Don't move!"
Staying low to the ground and proceeding as quietly as she can, Lopez approaches the store's front window, cautiously peering in. She can see two guns, one aimed at customers and the other at the man behind the register, fumbling to pull out bills. He hands them to a gunman, who slams them on the counter. She can't hear him, but he's clearly not happy with his take. He points toward the door to the back of the store while the eyes of the man at the register plead.
Damn! Lopez was hoping the gunmen would make a fast grab and run out. She and West could have chased them down – away from innocent bystanders. That option seems lost now. She has a hostage situation and will have to call in a negotiating team. That could include Jessica Russo if the D.H.S. agent is still nearby. Unfortunately, as volatile as the mood is in the city right now, the L.A.P.D. can do without a federal presence.
At least the good guys have an advantage unknown to the hostage-takers, a cop hiding in the bathroom. Lopez just has to make sure he stays there until the right moment.
Harper's foot comes down hard on the shop's accelerator. "Hit the siren, Boot. We can make it to backup Lopez and West in five minutes, maybe less."
Nolan braces himself against the vehicle's acceleration. "Lopez called for a supervisor and a hostage negotiator."
"They could both be coming from the division," Harper points out. "That would put them at least 20 minutes away. All hell could break loose before then. This time of day, there will be a crowd of customers in a donut store. Lopez and West can't protect all of them. They need us to watch their backs, now. Are you ready for this?"
The muscles in Nolan's jaw tighten. "I'll have to be."
Grey had been anticipating trouble, but not this kind of trouble. With the nearest hostage negotiation team at a convenience store robbery across the city, Jessica Russo is the best he's got. She was on her way back to her office when he called her but promised to meet him where he's setting up base. With any luck, she'll arrive around the same time he does. Harper and Nolan are almost at the scene, and Bradford and Chen should be getting there before Grey does. Paramedics are also en route. Grey's mentally crossing his fingers that they'll be unnecessary. His palm smacks against the steering wheel. Damn! This is not the way he wanted to start the day.
Harper springs from the driver's side of the shop with Nolan three steps behind. "What have you got, Lopez?"
"A clusterf**k," Angela replies. "West and I can both get eyes on the gunman at the front of the store, but he has multiple targets. He could take any of them out before we can take him down. I don't know if there's anyone else in the back with the second gunman and the manager. And I don't know what they're doing back there."
"Any shots fired?" Harper asks.
Lopez shakes her head. "Not so far."
Nolan blows air through pursed lips. "Well, that's something. How about if I try to work my way around the building and get eyes on the back. Grey's probably still 15 minutes out. Maybe I can get more intelligence by the time he gets here." He catches Harper's sideways glance. "I mean try to determine the position of the gunman, the manager, and any other hostages."
"That would give Russo an advantage too," Lopez notes.
"Jessica is coming?" Nolan suppresses a groan. "I suppose this situation is in her wheelhouse."
"Keep your head in the game, Boot," Harper orders. "You go around the building from the left. I'll go around from the right. First one to make visual contact with the gunman in the back will report. We'll figure where to take it from there."
Lopez nods. "I'll keep you updated from here on anything I see or get from West."
The narrow space between Donut Central and the building to its left barely allows room for Nolan's shoulders. He works his way in carefully, feeling the stickiness of discarded wrappers beneath his feet. His path widens out near the rear of the building. As he turns the corner, he can't see any windows, but he spies a ventilation inlet. He squints between metal slats.
Nolan can partially see two men in front of what appears to be a safe, but no movement to open it. If it's on a timer, the manager might not be able to unlock it until zero hour – whenever that is. Or he might not have the combination. What little motion John can see from the man closest to him, probably the gunman, appears impatient. Nolan and the other cops don't have much time, and they sure as hell need a better look. A fiber-optic camera would easily fit between the metal splines blocking most of his view. Moving far enough back from the building to ensure against being heard, he pulls out his radio to request that someone bring one – and fast.
