"I just don't like the guy, Lara," said Boxer.
"Well, that's really not my problem, is it?" Lara asked, her arms crossed over her chest. "I like him. That's the point. You are not in charge of my life."
"Dammit, Lara, there's… there's things about him you don't know."
"Oh, well, that's a real surprise, isn't it Michael? I've been on two dates with him, how could I possibly not know everything there is to know?"
"I don't just mean small stuff. Big. Harris is into some weird shit."
"Not so weird it keeps him off SWAT," Lara pointed out.
"Actually it kind of helps him with that," Boxer muttered. "And he hit me!"
"Yeah?" she asked. "And what did you do to deserve that?"
"Nothing! I tell you, he's a creep."
Lara sighed. "Michael, you are my brother. I love you. But you have to let go. I'm old enough to make my own decisions AND," she said, preempting his interruption, "I'm old enough to make my own mistakes. Maybe I'm wrong, but my gut tells me he's not a mistake. Either way, it's my decision, not yours."
Boxer's beeper went off. He stood there, silent, looking at his sister.
"Don't you have to get that?" she asked.
"Just… promise me one thing. If you're out with him at night, and he gets spooked, and tells you to do something… do it. Without question, without hesitating, do it."
Lara looked at her brother, confused.
"I thought you don't like him."
"I don't. But promise me. It's important. He can protect you."
"I don't need—"
"Please," Boxer said, genuine concern in his voice, and his eyes.
Lara sighed. "I promise."
Boxer kissed his sister on the cheek and made for the door.
"Be careful," she called after him.
He turned around, smiled at her and left.
"What do we have?" Street asked, strapping on the last of his body armor.
Hondo rolled his eyes and pointed to the roof of an abandoned building just down the street from where the SWAT van was parked.
Street looked up and saw a man on the roof with two guns, body armor, and a hostage.
"Ah, Christ," Street said as the rest of the team showed up.
"That's not the worst of it," Hondo said, handing binoculars to his top man. Jim took the binoculars, refocused them and looked at the man on the roof.
"Oh, Christ," he said again.
"What?" Sanchez asked. "He famous?"
"No," Street said. "He's wired to blow."
"Shit," said the entire team.
"There are at least a dozen more in the building, with more hostages than they know what to do with."
"Squatters," Xander said.
"Right," Hondo said, standing up off the bumper of the truck. He walked the team over to a squad car and laid out blue prints on the hood. "This is what we have to work with. Unless anybody knows any secret entrances."
They all looked at Xander, who shook his head.
"Sorry," he said. "There's a sewer runs right up next to it, but the nearest entrance is in the alley by the building. No direct access, except water pipes."
"You scary, you know that?" Deke said, looking at him.
Xander shrugged.
"Three story building, that many people, they'll have at least one person on each floor," Boxer said. "We go in anywhere and they're killin' hostages."
"Agreed," Street said. He looked at the other buildings on the street.
"How big a time frame are we talking here?" Xander asked.
"There's no way to tell at this point," Hondo said. "Negotiator's still working."
Xander nodded and looked at his watch.
"Why?" Deke asked.
Xander looked up at the sun. "Just, if it gets late enough, I have an idea."
They all looked at him.
"Well," he said, shifting nervously under their gazes. "I know a guy who might be able to help."
"Who?" Hondo asked.
Xander looked at him. "Angel."
"You're kidding, right?" Boxer asked.
"No, I'm completely serious. He's good at this kind of thing."
Hondo crossed his arms. "What could he do that we can't?"
"Sneak up on them. Catch them by surprise."
"How could he do that?" Sanchez asked. "What is he, Batman?"
"No," Xander said. He lifted the binoculars to his eyes, and took a couple of steps forward. "But, you know that disappearing act Batman always pulls?"
"Yeah," Deke said.
"Well, they had to get the idea somewhere."
Xander felt the intense stares of the entire team on his back. He turned around.
"What?"
Media helicopters were circling the building, their spotlights shining down on the roof, and the various police cars surrounding the building. The gunman on the roof hadn't left, and the group holding the building – a group of Spanish terrorists intent on gaining the release of some of their 'brothers' from American and Spanish prisons – had refused to budge on any of their demands, though they had released one hostage; a little girl.
Suddenly, the cameras spotted a commotion in front of the building, and almost as one, the spotlights swiveled off of the building towards the street. A young black man wearing a bandana wrapped around his head, dressed like a thug, was waving a gun around in front of the building and yelling things at the cops.
The cameras, and a great number of Los Angelino's, watched as three officers swarmed the man to bring him down. And they watched further as the young hooligan knocked one of them on his ass with a hard right cross. The other officers subdued him, cuffed him, and dragged him off to a squad car, but not without difficulty. More than once the young man broke free of their grasp and started running around. He seemed less intent on escaping than on making the LAPD look foolish.
He was succeeding. Finally, a few minutes later, after three more officers joined the fray, the guy was subdued and placed in the back of a squad car. The cameras and spotlights stayed on him for a maybe a minute more, trying to zoom in and get a better look at his face, as the talking heads behind the anchor desks speculated as to what he was doing, why he was there, and how he broke through the police line.
Slowly, the cameras and spotlights began to swivel back to their previous shots, watching the roof. Only something was different. The only person on the roof was the woman who had been used as a human shield and hostage by the terrorists. She was walking around confused. Befuddled reporters fell silent. A few minutes later, the front door of the building opened, and the police all trained their guns on it. After a moment, tired, crying and confused hostages started streaming out.
Confused officers started taking statements, and other, equally confused officers went inside. There, they found an entire SWAT team standing behind thirteen unconscious Spanish terrorists, all the worse for wear. Confusion remained.
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End Chapter 16