Chapter Three
The knock on the door is all we waited for. JD grabs the senator's daughter roughly by her hair and pulls her up. Her scream is truly heard outside. He grins and puts the muzzle of his weapon against her temple, right in the way to be seen when the door is open.
"No, leave her alone!" the senator shouts, but JD just kicks him in the shoulder, pulls the young woman away from him.
"You there!" I order the secretary. "Get up! Now!" My waving gun makes her get up. She stumbles forward. I think she might fall, but she stands in front of me with tears in her eyes. Oh, such a beauty - even now. "Go to the door!" I shove her, and she looks back, frightened like I would shoot her at any moment. No, honey, not now. "Wait!" I grab the senator's wife out of his protecting arms. She struggles, tries to wind herself out of my grip, shouting "No! No!" but it doesn't matter. I'm much stronger than she is. The more fear the better, I always say. Gin waits beside the door, ready to throw the bomb. He nods and we pull down the gas masks over our faces. "Open the door!" The secretary reaches out, unlocks the door and pulls it open, so I can see a man in his light blue boxers and white T-shirt. I almost giggle. He looks at me. Yep, we met before. I know it now. I saw his face on TV describing me and my bro's work. Very nice. "Step back!" I yell at the woman who dutifully retreats. The G-man holds a suitcase in his right hand, coats and other suitcases in the other. He breathes heavily. I think he fears me, but holds my gaze unwaveringly. Fine. The senator's wife sobs noisily, so I press the muzzle into her temple with force to shut her up.
"Let her go," G-man says, and he sounds astonished by our appearance. "Your money's here." He bends to drop it all, but I quickly shout,
"Get in here! On the double!"
"Okay - okay. Just two seconds," he says as if to soothe me. But his looks betray him. I can almost smell the air thicken. That's the moment Gin tosses the smoke bomb into the corridor.
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'Two seconds' is the signal that both hostage-takers must hold one person each and are ready to shoot them. I expect a movement from the special squad or at least a short information what's going to happen. But then a small dazzling cylinder flies over the open door and explodes in thick grey smoke right behind me. I try to retreat, but in the same second a third man with a gas mask appears in the open door, points a gun to my face and pulls me in so quickly I trip over his outstretched foot and fall face down on the floor. Mike puts his boot in the small of my back, shouting,
"Stay down!"
The third man kicks the door shut, locks it so the smoke stays outside. I hear some shouts; the special squad will retreat and think about their options.
He takes off the mask. It's the not-so-really checked-out Mr. Herbert Stanley.
"Welcome to the show, Mr. Mulder." Mr. Stanley glances at Mike. Slowly, unwillingly he takes his boot away. "On your knees!" I leave my luggage on the floor and push myself up. Everything falls into place in one single second. I stare at Stanley who stares back. But while Mike enjoys the power he holds in his hands, Stanley seems to breathe it as naturally as the stuffy air in the room. He sticks the gun into his belt and tosses a pair of handcuffs to me. "Put 'em on." I glance at the other hostages. Their hands are bound with duct tape, and the people look frightened to death. "Quick! Do it!" Mike orders, and pushes the senator's wife back to her husband, who takes her into his arms. She sobs and buries her face in his chest for a moment. The senator looks at me as if I'm Superman and could kill the three hostage-takers by blowing frosted air into their faces. No, sorry, no such luck. I close the metal bands over my wrists. "Move over here! And don't get any ideas!" Mike waves with his gun. I walk on my knees to the desk, watching JD who still holds Janie with one arm around her throat, the muzzle of his gun pointed at her temple. She bites her lip, and tears flow freely down her cheeks. Her mother swallows hard. Having just escaped from the threat of being killed at once, she's scared shitless that her daughter might not be so lucky. JD looks like he's about to lose his marbles. He will be the first to kill someone. The stress is clearly shown in his face though he covers it with a broad grin. He should be the one taken care of and is reason number one to end this incident as soon as possible.
The hostages seem to be okay, and as far as I can see no one is hurt. But with a third man in command it will be harder to free the victims. I realize that the McIntyre brothers didn't plan this operation, at least they didn't do the preparation. And Mr. Stanley must be quite a wiseass to cheat himself into the senator's staff unnoticed. I don't believe that Mr. Moore is in this fraud, too. He might not be the wisest chief of security Burne could get, but he did his job. The question remains how Stanley could by-pass the checkout and how he got in touch with Mike and JD. He must have had better informants than the FBI did.
"Everything's fine outside?" Mike asks. Gin nods. Very self-confident. He puts the gas mask back on a bag close to one of the cupboards at the opposite wall. "Look what we've got." He tucks the gun away, quickly glances at his brother. "Let her go," he orders impatiently, and he follows suit, but gives Janie a rough punch on the back of her head. She cries out loud, stumbles to the floor.
"That wasn't necessary!" Senator Burne yells at JD who aims his gun at the old man.
"Bang! And you're dead!" Another wild grin. He blows air over the muzzle and enjoys doing this while the senator is as much frightened as he is angry.
"Leave 'em alone!" Mike orders while he kneels down in front of the suitcase. "Let's see if G-man brought what he was told."
"Wait!" Stanley - or the man who pretends to be Mr. Stanley - opens the black bag and takes out a device to check for metal parts or electricity or - whatever. He runs it over the suitcase before he allows Mike to open it, then quickly checks the others. I'm glad the FBI refrained from bugging the suitcases. That third man, who is yet unknown, is far more clever than the McIntyre bothers together. It's clear now who placed the detectors in the air-conditioning shafts.
The older McIntyre brother whistles loudly, and even JD is distracted for a second. I think of taking advantage of the moment, overthrowing JD and aiming his pistol at Mike and Stanley the Fake, but Stanley isn't distracted at all. "Don't move!" he shouts pointing his gun at me. Mike looks up to me, then to Stanley. But the money is far more interesting for him.
"Calm down, Mr. Stanley," I say, and hope the device in my ear is at least sending. I can't get any messages from Patterson or Hastings, so I suppose the device was broken during my fall. "You got what you three wanted. Why don't you just put on your coats and leave?"
Suddenly JD's in front of me.
"Shut up, you asshole! We do what we want," he explains, and stresses his statement with a fierceful blow to my head with the handle of his gun.
"Hey, JD, not now!" It's Mike, but his voice seems to come from afar. "Pull yourself together!" My head feels on fire, and when I sit up again, blood trickles down my left cheek, and my vision is blurred 'til I catch my breath again. I raise my hands to wipe it away, see smears of blood on my fingers and the steel rings around my wrists. 'Damn it! Damn him! Shit!' I look up to Mike's wiggling eyebrows. He likes what he sees though he called his brother to order. And JD plays with the gun like it's his best friend.
I profiled JD to be homosexual. He always treated the women worse than the men, and in some reports by hostages it is stated that Mike had called JD back from descending over a man. He should wait for another time, he was told. Well, I don't agree with my own written profile right now. My left eyebrow is split open. More blood follows, and my stomach turns around. Fine. Right what I need. Puke on the carpet!
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JD delivers a blow to the FBI-man's head that almost knocks him out. Shit! I told him before he should wait 'til we are sure to get away! He can have his fun later. Now, I tell ya, I'm pissed off with his behavior, but more because Gin thinks of us now that we're idiots! We're professionals as I said before, but with acts like this we ruin our reputation. I know it. I can read Gin's face. He's very close to shouting at my brother that this was his last mistake. I smell his anger, see his grim face. Gin's arrogance is one thing, but I can handle it. What I can't handle is the gun in his belt. The FBI-man rests his back against the desk's solid front. He seems dizzy, but that's okay. I don't mind him being out for a moment, so he won't talk or try anything on us. Blood's on his T-shirt. Not bad, - thinking of what this blow did to the others in the room. After the shrieks they're all really quiet now. The senator clutches his wife and daughter, tries to give them shelter. The secretary and the young man who looks like a student with all his freckles over his pale face soothes her, but isn't any help, of course. We are in control of all of them. I check the other suitcases and raincoats. They are exactly like what we ordered. Nice service. And no bugs attached. Gin's one criminal of a kind! I'd never have thought about searching the suitcase for any spy things. Y'know, we changed the sacks of money when we robbed a bank, never took them with us. But Gin - he's really clever. Yeah, though I don't like his behavior he's smarter than me. Well, my job is robbing banks, y'know. Not taking hostages and that ransom stuff and so on. - No, I don't think that I made a wrong decision, joining with Gin in this crime. He's hard to handle and doesn't say much, but up to now he played to the rules.
JD walks up to me.
"When'll we get outta here?" he whispers, still keeping an eye on the people on the floor. I know if they move without his allowance he's the first one to shoot.
"Cool, bro, just takes an hour or so. We wait for the copter." I check my watch. "Will be here in a short while. We should hear it come."
"Who're we gonna take with us?" His voice is no more than a hoarse whisper now, but his looks concentrate on the G-man. I see his Adam's Apple jump up and down.
"Three."
"Burne and family?" I see his face drop.
"Who else?" He swallows his disappointment, so I add very low so that only he can hear it, "I told ya not to think of it when we're on a job, 'kay?" He nods, but licks his lips. I can almost hear his heartbeat. It was a good idea to let the FBI Agent come up with nothing but his boxers and T-shirt, but I hadn't thought about my bro's wild imagination. I've lit up a fire I have to control now. Above all the trouble with Gin and his strangeness and the stress with getting to the copter and the escape place. I feel as if I'm on a carousel that I can't make turn any slower.
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My sight is clear again. The senator's wife eyes me, mouths if I'm okay, and I give a nod. Her face asks if there is a plan to rescue us. I can't answer. JD and Mac look at me, just waiting for me to give the plans of the SWAT team away.
"The helicopter should be here right now," Mr. Stanley the Fake says, glancing at his watch. His gaze travels from the closed curtains to me. "Is there a reason for the delay, Mr. Mulder?"
"I don't know of any delay." My voice sounds harsh. I'm still trying to figure out why the SWAT team didn't move in. It was risky, but it should have worked. Now they have to change to Plan B. Hastings said he'd never do a step without a second plan, and I hope it works out.
"So you don't." He nods his self-confident nod that makes me shiver with uneasiness. Players 1 and 2 are clear, but Player 3 is still unknown. I don't know what to expect from him. I only recognize how decent Mac and JD talk to him. He's the big enchilada. And this time the McIntyres are just servants to the success. What does that mean that they chose to work with a third man? Will the Fake order the killing of the senator after getting away with the money? Why didn't Mac and JD simply rob a bigger bank?
"Hey, have you been at the employment exchange searching for a new job, Mac? And you came up with this filthy guy?"
"Shut up!" Mr. Stanley shouts, but regains his reserved composure a second later. Now that's interesting. Mac shoots an angry look at me, but that's not as important as Mr. Stanley's short outburst of anger. Until now he had only watched. Then JD hits me, and he doesn't seem to agree with that. "Call them again," he orders Mac, who smacks his lips. "I want this helicopter over here in ten minutes, or the first hostage dies." He says it matter-of-factly, and I bet my year's income he'll pull the trigger on anyone, without remorse.
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Gin's clear about it. I dial, and an older man is on the line.
"It's Patterson with the FBI," he says. "I want to talk to my agent."
"The helicopter lands on the roof in ten minutes, or the first hostage dies. And this might be your very agent," I add.
"You got what you wanted. Now you show some cooperation and release the women. Then the helicopter lands."
This really pisses me off!
"You do what we say, got it?" I scream. "You know we won't negotiate! You know we won't release a goddamned paper clip before we want to! Ten Minutes, wiseass, or sent the man with the black plastic sack to collect the dead body!" I throw down the receiver, turn around to Gin, wiping sweat from my forehead. "Done."
"Not the agent." Gin shakes his head, and I want to start an argument about it when he adds, "Miss Robertson." She gives a whining "Nooo…", and clings to the freckled man beside her who looks even more frightened. He probably knows that my choice would be him.
"Hey, listen, no good idea," I object in, - as I think, - a mild tone, "she might be worth a…", but he shuts me off.
"I said Miss Robertson", he repeats in his no-nonsense voice. I swallow my next remark. Fine. Would have been nice to have a little fun with her, but there are other sluts who want to be taken when we get out of here. When we will finally be out of here. I can clearly see JD's face and know that for him these hours are like days. Gin checks his watch. "Eight minutes. We do it right away."
"Okay."
"Let the women go," the FBI-man says in a calm voice. "You don't need them. You can't take all the hostages with you, right? That's not your plan."
Gin eyes him. It's like they're checking each other out, like knowing who's got the bigger balls, y'know? Neither of them are wavering. They want to know who's in charge. Well, no question who, but that Mulder really defies Gin. Finally there's some motion in his face I haven't seen before.
"I haven't asked for your comment or opinion, Mr. Mulder," Gin declares, like he's talking to a business partner, "and I don't think I will on this subject. I'd prefer you to tell me what the FBI is planning for the moment we leave the building."
"Have you already forgotten," the G-man asks back and lifts his cuffed hands, "that you ordered me up here? How should I know what they do downstairs, hm?"
Gin smirks.
"Oh, I know the planning, mister, believe me. So would you to tell me about it or would you prefer to watch Miss Robertson die first?"
"No, I don't want to watch anyone die," he says and tries to remain calm though he's sweating with fear. I like that. He knows we will kill anybody to make sure the police follows our orders. "Hey, Mac, how's that? - Have you planned to work with this liar? Or did JD find him in some junkyard?"
"Shut the fuck up!" I scream at him and wave my gun, but at the same moment I see in his eyes that he's just playing with me.
I think about what else I could do to keep Stanley the Fake and the MycIntyre brothers from killing the secretary. She sits a few feet away, locking eyes with me in a desperate attempt to find hope in my presence. I know there should be more I could do, but I don't even know if my microphone is still working.
"There's no need to kill anybody, Mr. Stanley," I repeat, but I don't think I can buy time with that strategy. Stanley glimpses at his watch. It's a challenging gesture, and it's meant for me. I shall tell him the plan, but after Plan A failed I'm not sure what Plan B looks like. I have to warn the FBI that it's a trio, not just a duo. That would influence their planning. But how should I do it? They won't let me go because of my juvenile grin. And I'm not grinning at the moment. "The helicopter will be here in a few minutes. It was already ordered before I left."
Stanley looks down, then up again, and that grin is still present.
"We'll see that in five minutes."
I run out of options. And I'm sure he'll kill the secretary anyway. Maybe he's just interested in my reaction. Another strategy is needed.
"Did you work for the FBI, Mr. Stanley? You look like you know more of our mode of operation than your not –very-bright partners."
He glances at me, drinks a sip of water and clears his throat while JD kills me with a look and waves his gun. He's about to get closer when Mike shakes his head no.
JD and Mike look at their partner. He probably told them nothing about himself, just watered their mouths with the amount of money they'd gain with this hostage-taking.
"Did you?" Mike inquires. Mr. Stanley puts down his paper cup and swallows, glances at his watch and completely ignores the question.
"If you did you know that the FBI will bargain though they don't do it officially," I continue. "If you release the women as a sign of good will they might let you get away with the money."
The Fake allows himself a small smile.
"Mr. Mulder. If you say something or stay quiet, or recite the Bible, or the Koran I don't mind, and it won't change my modus operandi. I refined this operation and will stick to every line of it. In three minutes the first hostage dies, and it will be Miss Robertson if the helicopter isn't reported to have landed on the roof top."
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