The aroma of fresh coffee alerted Harrelson that his worries about Jim Street were unfounded. It was true relief to see Street at his desk bent over a folder full of forms.
"Street," he greeted, "how's it going this morning?"
When Jim looked up from his work, some of Harrelson's worries returned. Jim's face was still pale except for the sleepless bags beneath his eyes.
"Good, Lieutenant," Jim answered. "Coffee's fresh."
Harrelson nodded. "Smells great. How's your, uh …"
Jim sat back and rubbed his hand gently over his left ribs. "Sore." He grinned slightly. "But healing." He couldn't mention that the bruise had doubled in size overnight or that the pains ran from his shoulder down to his back. If a sixty percent blow put him down, how could he survive a career in SWAT?
"Glad to hear that." Harrelson poured his coffee and went to his desk, checking the schedule for the day.
"I smell coffee," Dom called from the top of the steps. He and TJ thundered down the steps like a herd of elephants. Deke followed at a more dignified pace. They changed quickly into their uniforms and gathered around Jim's desk, drinking and chatting. Deke wandered into Harrelson's office.
"What's on the docket for today?" Deke asked.
Harrelson closed the folder on his desk and leaned back. "We have the range from ten to noon."
"Before then?"
"We've got three calls to review."
Deke sighed. "Well, that'll take us to eight-thirty, maybe."
Harrelson frowned. "Yeah, it's light. So sue me."
"And if we get a call?"
"Then it's business as usual, like always." Harrelson grabbed the call folders and exited his office.
#
Harrelson walked behind the firing line. The men were firing free-will at the paper targets. As usual, McCabe was dead-on. Luca was doing better than his usual. Deke was steady. He paused behind Street. Usually Street was a few points behind McCabe and a few points ahead of Luca. All of his shots were off today – not in a major way, but noticeably. Harrelson could see that Street was not comfortable in his stance and it was throwing his shots off a touch.
On the outdoor range, Harrelson ran them through the hostage course. McCabe had the fastest time, but, surprisingly, Street had the most accurate run.
Still huffing for air and sweating heavily, Street did have a smile after his run through the course.
"Had to make up for that dismal target score," Jim said to his teammates.
"Lt. Harrelson, telephone. Extension four," came over the loudspeaker.
Harrelson disappeared into the range building, rushing out after a minute.
"Let's roll," he called. "Armed robbery. Teen with a gun at a gas station. He has a woman hostage."
#
"McCabe. There's no high ground here. Pick the position you feel can give you the best shot opportunity. Hold there until I give you a go.
"Luca, head around back. Get in as close as you can. Wait for my go.
"Deke, Street. I want you on either side but out of view. Keep alert, no crossfire. Go."
As the men dispersed, Harrelson brought up his bullhorn. "In the gas station, this is the police. We have you surrounded. Do yourself a big favor and release the woman to us. Then throw out your gun and come out with your hands on your head. It's that simple. No one will get hurt."
"I can't, man!" the gunman yelled. "I can't! I gotta have this money or Benny's gonna be hurting me real bad."
Harrelson sent a questioning look to the patrol sergeant beside him. The sergeant shrugged.
"Is Benny a shark?" Harrelson asked through the bullhorn.
"I owe him big. He already broke my arm once. It'll be my leg next. You gotta let me go. I don't wanna hurt the lady. I just gotta have the money." The gunman shuffled back away from the doorway.
"Lieutenant," Luca called quietly over the radio. "I'm in position inside the garage. If TJ could give me a little distraction, I can disarm the gunman."
"Are you sure, Luca?" Harrelson asked.
The answer was two short squawks on the radio, which Harrelson knew meant talking would compromise Luca's position.
"Okay, McCabe," Harrelson said over the radio. "Make it close, just not too close. Deke, Street, heads up. Go."
A .308 bullet popped a penny jar for some charity sitting on the counter inside the station. The spray of pennies shattered the gunman's nerves. Following closely, the fluorescent light above their heads exploded with TJ's second round. The woman screamed and escaped the muddled gunman's grasp, running out the door. Luca was on the gunman as the hostage stepped out of the doorway, pulling the pistol from his hand and driving him into a shelf of potato chips.
Seeing the woman run out of the station, Street sprinted across and grabbed her, using his body as a shield, and sheltered her in a side alcove that led to the restrooms. Deke and Harrelson ran in to assist Luca.
After the police had the gunman in custody, Jim handed the woman off to a female officer. He'd become so accustomed to the throbbing pain in his side that he barely registered it, but the nausea it caused was becoming more difficult to ignore. Before he embarrassed himself by tossing his lunch on scene, he stepped into the van, sinking onto the bench seat. Leaning his head back, he'd just started to recuperate when TJ and Luca joined him.
"Man, those were some shots, TJ," Luca said. "I bet there was a thousand pennies in that jar."
"Hey, Jim, you okay?" TJ asked.
"Yeah," Jim answered. "Just relaxing."
Deke and Harrelson jumped in the van and they were soon on the way back to Olympic.
"Good shooting, TJ," Harrelson said.
"Thank you, sir," TJ said in his usual mild-mannered voice.
Harrelson continued his kudos. "Luca, that was a great tactic you had. No one shot and a good take down.
"And that was a smart move, Street, getting that woman out of any potential line of fire. Good jobs all around."
"Let's see them roast us in the paper for that one," Dom stated.
Jim smiled at Luca's full-force hatred for the media's portrayal of SWAT as gun wielding thugs with badges. He shared Dom's sentiment himself.
"The only person with a valid complaint is whoever has to pick up all those pennies," Deke said, getting laughter from the crew.