Chapter 5
Lt. Roger Smith made the front page of the Paradigm Press that week.
A group of young schoolchildren were enjoying a field trip to a museum that
day. They were accompanied by teachers and a handful of parent volunteers.
Unfortunately, one of the parents had planned a little surprise for the outing. Once inside the splendid lobby, he pulled a gun out of his jacket and took the small group hostage. He announced that he was going to kill them one by one unless his demands were met. The problem was, no one knew what he wanted.
Major Dastun wasted no time cordoning off the area. Word had spread quickly;
hordes of people (both civilians and press corp) had converged. The general sentiment was a mix of morbid curiosity and excitement, maybe even a touch of blood lust - the police authorities feared a possible riot if the situation wasn't resolved quickly.
After conferring with his superiors, the major sent a police psychologist into the building. The officer was met with a volley of bullets and invective - screams of "Paradigm lapdog" blended with the cries of terrified children as he beat a hasty retreat to safety. Amazingly, he'd not been wounded.
Dan Dastun was stymied; he'd hoped to end this peacefully. He knew he couldn't storm the lobby without causing a bloodbath. Neither could he use his sharpshooters; there was no cover for them in that huge space. Nevertheless, he had to get someone in there. Knowing his next words might be a death sentence, the major turned towards the three lieutenants by his side.
"I need one of you to go in there. Assess the situation. Try to defuse it. I would prefer a volunteer."
Lt. Smith stepped forward. "Let me try, Dastun. I have an idea." The major insisted Smith be wired with a microphone.
Smith entered the lobby with his hands above his head. Other than the children's whimpering, it was so quiet he could hear his own heart pound. While the gunman watched suspiciously, Roger carefully removed his own weapon, slowly laying it on the ground, then kicking it out of reach. Then he removed his bullet-proof vest and his tan police cap.
"See," he said calmly, "I can do you no harm. I trust you will not hurt me either." Roger forced himself to stay in focus, using the adrenalin of his fear to fuel his mind. He walked slowly, his hands visible at all times, towards the distraught man. The hostage-taker was armed not only with a gun; he had wired himself with explosives as well. Roger stopped moving as soon as he saw the man's jaw muscles start to twitch.
"My name is Roger Smith." The young lieutenant spoke as if this was the most normal setting one could possibly be in.
The gunman's face twitched again, but he answered Smith. "I'm Jim Webster."
Smith nodded in acknowledgement. "Well Jim, you seem to be in a difficult situation here. Want to talk about it?"
This went on for about an hour, with Webster talking - rambling really - and Smith listening and asking questions, guiding the conversation.
Finally, the gunman fell silent. It was obvious that he was thinking about what to do.
Roger held his breath. He was either going to die now or get everyone out okay. He had done the best he could do.
Webster put down the gun. He removed his explosive vest. "Get out of here" he growled at the children, who promptly fled. He walked over to Lt. Smith and shook his hand.
"Thanks for listening," he said. "That's all I really wanted." Lt. Smith brought Jim Webster out to the crowds gathered outside. The air filled with cheers as the prisoner was led away.
Major Dan Dastun came up to his young lieutenant, slapping him on the shoulder. "Roger, that was absolutely..." he paused for the right word, "...absolutely remarkable. I have never heard anything handled like that before. You're a real hero."
On the seventh day, Roger Smith contacted Rowan Daestar.
Lt. Roger Smith made the front page of the Paradigm Press that week.
A group of young schoolchildren were enjoying a field trip to a museum that
day. They were accompanied by teachers and a handful of parent volunteers.
Unfortunately, one of the parents had planned a little surprise for the outing. Once inside the splendid lobby, he pulled a gun out of his jacket and took the small group hostage. He announced that he was going to kill them one by one unless his demands were met. The problem was, no one knew what he wanted.
Major Dastun wasted no time cordoning off the area. Word had spread quickly;
hordes of people (both civilians and press corp) had converged. The general sentiment was a mix of morbid curiosity and excitement, maybe even a touch of blood lust - the police authorities feared a possible riot if the situation wasn't resolved quickly.
After conferring with his superiors, the major sent a police psychologist into the building. The officer was met with a volley of bullets and invective - screams of "Paradigm lapdog" blended with the cries of terrified children as he beat a hasty retreat to safety. Amazingly, he'd not been wounded.
Dan Dastun was stymied; he'd hoped to end this peacefully. He knew he couldn't storm the lobby without causing a bloodbath. Neither could he use his sharpshooters; there was no cover for them in that huge space. Nevertheless, he had to get someone in there. Knowing his next words might be a death sentence, the major turned towards the three lieutenants by his side.
"I need one of you to go in there. Assess the situation. Try to defuse it. I would prefer a volunteer."
Lt. Smith stepped forward. "Let me try, Dastun. I have an idea." The major insisted Smith be wired with a microphone.
Smith entered the lobby with his hands above his head. Other than the children's whimpering, it was so quiet he could hear his own heart pound. While the gunman watched suspiciously, Roger carefully removed his own weapon, slowly laying it on the ground, then kicking it out of reach. Then he removed his bullet-proof vest and his tan police cap.
"See," he said calmly, "I can do you no harm. I trust you will not hurt me either." Roger forced himself to stay in focus, using the adrenalin of his fear to fuel his mind. He walked slowly, his hands visible at all times, towards the distraught man. The hostage-taker was armed not only with a gun; he had wired himself with explosives as well. Roger stopped moving as soon as he saw the man's jaw muscles start to twitch.
"My name is Roger Smith." The young lieutenant spoke as if this was the most normal setting one could possibly be in.
The gunman's face twitched again, but he answered Smith. "I'm Jim Webster."
Smith nodded in acknowledgement. "Well Jim, you seem to be in a difficult situation here. Want to talk about it?"
This went on for about an hour, with Webster talking - rambling really - and Smith listening and asking questions, guiding the conversation.
Finally, the gunman fell silent. It was obvious that he was thinking about what to do.
Roger held his breath. He was either going to die now or get everyone out okay. He had done the best he could do.
Webster put down the gun. He removed his explosive vest. "Get out of here" he growled at the children, who promptly fled. He walked over to Lt. Smith and shook his hand.
"Thanks for listening," he said. "That's all I really wanted." Lt. Smith brought Jim Webster out to the crowds gathered outside. The air filled with cheers as the prisoner was led away.
Major Dan Dastun came up to his young lieutenant, slapping him on the shoulder. "Roger, that was absolutely..." he paused for the right word, "...absolutely remarkable. I have never heard anything handled like that before. You're a real hero."
On the seventh day, Roger Smith contacted Rowan Daestar.