"Let's go," Harrelson called as he charged out of his office. "Divorced father holding his three-year-old daughter hostage in his house. Out on Grandview. Father has his deer rifle according to the child's mother."
The team jumped up and ran to the armory, removing their uniform belts on the way. Quickly selecting their arms, they ran for the War Wagon that Sam already had idling.
Swaying in the back of the van, the team transformed into the department's elite force.
"Has the father shot anyone yet?" Jim asked.
Harrelson sat the radio mike down after talking with the incident commander. "One warning shot aimed into the air."
"Caliber?" TJ asked.
"Unknown. Olympic 20 thought it was probably a .243, Model 70," Harrelson said, shrugging into his vest. "So I want all of you to stay back until we scope the situation."
Jim instinctively rubbed his chest where he'd taken a couple of handgun shots from a lovelorn sniper.
"That rifle would do a bit more than bruise if it hit your vest," Harrelson said, pointing toward Street.
The van stopped and the team poured out, taking defensive positions until the situation was assessed. Olympic 20 walked over to Harrelson.
"Man in the house is Ben Harding. His wife is divorcing him and wants sole custody of their daughter, Emily. His wife, Sharon, went to the store this morning and when she came back Ben had all the doors barricaded and had his gun out, shouting that she couldn't keep him from seeing his daughter."
"Can I put a man on the roof of this neighbor's house?" Harrelson asked.
"Sure can, Lieutenant," Olympic 20 answered. "We have all these houses evacuated."
"Good. Go McCabe."
"Street. Get me a perimeter," Harrelson ordered.
"Yes, sir," Jim acknowledged, stealth running around the property.
"Luca. Talk to the wife and get all the information she has about this man, the daughter too."
"Right." Dom went over to the squad car that held Sharon Harding and joined her in the back seat.
Harrelson grabbed his bullhorn and walked out in front of the squad cars. "In the house, Ben Harding, this is the police. We want you to release the girl, Emily. Then we want you to throw out the gun and come out with your hands on your head. Do you understand?"
"I hear ya," the man growled from a partially open window. "They can't keep me from seeing my daughter. They just can't do that. It ain't right."
Jim Street returned from his perimeter search and crouched behind the front fender of the squad car nearest Harrelson.
"No one wants to keep your daughter away from you, Ben," Harrelson said. "There's a process you have to go through, that's all."
"I don't want no divorce either," Ben yelled from the house. "That's all her doing. She went and got herself a boyfriend. I'd trade Emily for that bastard."
Harrelson shook his head. Sometimes even he was surprised. "No, Ben. We can't do that. We need you to let Emily go and come on out."
"We ain't going anywhere. Emmy's favorite show is on. She won't leave."
Harrelson turned to Street. "You see anything?"
"Back patio has a sliding glass door. He has furniture in front of it. First floor windows are all barred. Basement window isn't blocked, no other outside access to the basement," Jim reported.
"Good. We'll keep that basement window in mind," Harrelson said.
"Luca?"
"Sharon Harding is in rough shape, as you can imagine." Dom drew a deep breath. "She does have a boyfriend. A cop with Sunset division. Seems Ben in there has been drinking a lot lately and took to hitting Sharon. The cop she's seeing now helped her get the divorce started and with Ben's violence, the state wanted to keep the girl away from him."
Harrelson ran his hand over his face. "This could be a powder keg. Get with Olympic 20 and give him the boyfriend's name. Let's neutralize that before it gets out of hand. We don't need a vigilante cop coming on scene to save the day for his girl and her kid."
"Yes, sir." Dom ran to the scene command post.
"Street. See if you can get that basement window open, very quietly," Harrelson ordered.
"Right." Jim headed for the van for tools, then ran to the rear of the house.
"Boyfriend's on duty, Lieutenant," Dom reported. "Sunset's bringing him in and will hold him until this is resolved."
"Good. That's one less worry." Harrelson studied the house for a moment. "Luca. Station in the bushes by the front door. If he releases the girl, grab her and get her out of there as fast as you can."
"Yes, sir." Dom crouched and ran to the house from the side, settling in behind the front bushes.
Harrelson picked up his bullhorn again when his radio sounded.
"Lieutenant, Street. I have the basement window out. I can fit through it."
"Good," Harrelson said into his mike. "I'll keep Ben occupied up here. You go in and position yourself by the basement door. It should open into the kitchen. The living room, where Ben and the girl are will be to your left from that door."
"Right. I'm on my way in." Jim lowered himself through the narrow window, landing in a soft crouch. He reached back up for his rifle. Dodging toys and other debris, he made his way up the steep stairs and hunkered behind the kitchen door.
At the same time, Harrelson was back on his bullhorn. "Ben. You need to release the girl. This isn't good for her and I know you don't want anything bad to happen to her."
"Nothin's gonna happen to my Emmy. You better not hurt her," Ben yelled.
"We're not going to hurt Emily, Ben. But just look what you're doing. She shouldn't be held captive in your home." Harrelson mentally pictured Street's progress inside the house.
"Emmy's fine. Now go away so we can enjoy our time together. I want you all out of here NOW!"
"Street," Harrelson called over his radio. "Move into the kitchen. Be ready."
Jim just squawked his radio, not wanting to be heard and slowly opened the door. He sneaked to his left, keeping glued to the wall. He squawked his radio again to indicate he was in position. He peeked around the corner and saw the girl sitting on the couch watching TV. Ben was standing off the right side of the big living room window opposite the couch, his back to Jim.
Knowing his options wouldn't get better, Jim launched from the entryway into the living room and body slammed Ben. His momentum carried them both through the window and out onto the lawn. Ben's gun flew from his hands as he landed with Jim on top of him. Jim popped Ben across the chin, ending the struggle.
From the bushes, Dom jumped through the destroyed window after Jim and Ben flew out. He grabbed Emily off the couch and, shielding her as much as possible, pushed the couch away from the front door, and walked out with her. He took Emily straight to the command center where her mother eagerly grabbed her from him.
Afterwards, in the van, TJ worked at cleaning several cuts and scratches that Jim received going through the window. Jim winced as TJ dabbed a little too vigorously.
"Oh, don't be a baby, Jim," TJ teased. "It's only a scratch."
"You're making it feel like the Grand Canyon," Jim grumbled.
Harrelson got in and closed the door; the van took off.
"Damn good work, men," he said to the crew.
"You going to live?" Harrelson asked Street.
"Yes, Lieutenant. Just scratches," Jim said.
TJ and Dom laughed.
"How about you, Luca?" Harrelson asked.
"Feel great, Lieutenant," Dom answered. "Rescuing pretty girls is my specialty."
"Emily is about your speed now," Jim said.
Surprising everyone, Dom agreed. "After last night, I think you're right."
Everyone grabbed for handholds as the van swerved abruptly and came to a screeching stop. The radio crackled immediately with their driver's voice.
"Armed bank robbery occurring right in front of us!"
The team re-geared and jumped out in defensive posture. Immediately, gunfire erupted from the entrance of the bank. Not knowing if there were hostages or any innocent civilians in the area, Harrelson ordered the team to hold fire.
Squad cars wailed to stops around the bank and a standoff situation arose. Sgt. Nate Smith exited one of the squad cars and wove his way to Lt. Harrelson's position.
"What've we got, Hondo?" Nate asked.
"We happened by as the robbers were trying to make their escape. Don't know how many of them there are or how many potential hostages they have." Harrelson kept his gaze on the bank.
"Must be your lucky day. What's the plan?" asked Nate.
"Working on that," Harrelson muttered. "We were just returning from a hostage situation – resolved it without incident. My men are likely still keyed-up. I need to work this carefully to keep things from escalating out of control."
"Geez, Hondo," Nate exclaimed. "You guys are having a busy morning."
"You mean to tell me it's still morning?" joked Harrelson.
"Only for about twenty minutes longer," Nate assured.
"I'd like to position my marksman up on that store roof behind us," Harrelson said, hatching his plan.
"I'll go over and smooth things out with the manager and get everyone evacuated from these surrounding buildings," offered Nate.
Harrelson clapped Nate's shoulder. "That'd be a big help.
"McCabe," Harrelson called. The marksman appeared at his side. "Go with Sgt. Smith across the street and gain roof access at the grocery store. That should give you good access to anything going on out front of the bank."
"Yes, sir," TJ responded. He followed Nate across the street.
Deke crouched by Harrelson once TJ left. "Only other door is on the left side. Metal, reinforced. Windows are all barred. Not sure of the roof, we'd need building plans."
"Good. Get on the horn and see if we can get those plans. If this turns into a waiting game, we can take that time to get better prepared. See about getting a phone number for the bank lobby."
"Right," Deke acknowledged and ran for the van.
"Street. Luca." Harrelson paused while his officers joined him. "Street. There's a metal reinforced door on the left. Position so you can see it and the front. Stay out of sight to the inside."
Jim nodded and ran off to the left corner of the building.
"Luca. Take the right side of the entry. Close but not too close," Harrelson ordered.
"Yes, sir." Dom ran off to the right.
Deke rejoined Harrelson. "Plans are coming from the Planning Commission, ETA is twenty minutes." Deke took a quick breath. "HQ is calling the lobby. If anyone answers they'll patch it through to Nate's car."
"All right, it's coming together." Harrelson nodded. "I've got McCabe on the roof behind us." He looked up and back, seeing the black barrel of TJ's rifle poking over the eave. "Street is on the left corner, watching both doors. Luca is up front to the right. Watch for those plans. Look for roof access when they get here."
"Right." Deke made his way back to the van.
A lengthy ten minutes later, a squad officer called out. "Lt. Harrelson! Got a patch through from HQ for you."
Harrelson hustled through the crowd of police to Nate's squad car and took the radio mike. "This is Lt. Harrelson. Who am I talking to?"
"Listen, pig. You all had better clear out of here. Let us go."
Harrelson heard youth in the voice. That didn't please him. Inexperience, especially with robbery suspects, can lead to chaotic and unexpected actions. "And if we don't?" he asked. He could guess the answer easily enough.
"You stupid pig! I'll start pumping bullets in these upstanding citizens if you don't do as I say."
An idea flashed to Harrelson. "Tell you what," he said into the mike. "You write down your demands and send them out with one of those citizens. That way I'll know you're serious about working to get this situation resolved without anyone getting hurt." He paused a couple seconds. "You can write?"
The radio was quiet for a few heavy beats. Then another voice came across. "They hung up, Lieutenant. Do you want us to try to get them back on the line?"
"No. Not yet." Harrelson leaned against the roof of the car watching the front of the bank and hoping to see someone come out – soon.
The wait wasn't too long. The double glass doors at the bank's entrance opened and a middle-aged woman stumbled out. She held her hands high and sobbed hysterically while yelling, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"
Once the woman cleared the steps, Dom left his concealed position and, shielding her with his body, half-carried her to the SWAT van.
Pinned to the front of the woman's blouse was the note from the robbers. Harrelson removed it, throwing it into the back of the van.
"Aren't you going to read it?" the woman said between sobs.
"Not really," Harrelson answered. "I have no intention of giving them anything they want."
"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed. "They'll start shooting."
"We'll worry about that," Harrelson assured.
"No!" the woman screamed. "Let me go back, please! They have my daughter. She's only twelve."
Harrelson frowned. This was a nasty twist by the robbers, very nasty.
"Ma'am, can you tell me how many gunmen are in there?" Harrelson asked.
The woman blubbered for a couple of minutes, her teary eyes searching out everyone's face.
"Ma'am," Harrelson said gently, "your daughter and everyone in that bank needs you to help us so that we can help them."
"Three. There's three of them. They have big guns and hand guns," she cried and twisted her trembling hands together.
"How many hostages? Bank employees and customers."
"I'm not sure. Twelve or fifteen, maybe. My daughter's still in there!"
Harrelson gently grasped her arms. "We know, ma'am. Are all the hostages together? In the lobby?"
"Uh, yeah, I think so." She looked back at the bank. "My daughter…"
"We'll do our very best to get your daughter and everyone else out of there. I promise you that."
A squad car stopped beside the van and an officer delivered the floor plans for the bank.
Harrelson and Deke spread the plans out on the floor of the van, orienting them so that they faced like the building beside them.
"Ma'am," Harrelson started. "Can you point out where the gunmen are at in the lobby?"
The woman studied the plans and looked toward the building several times. She pointed on the paper. "The one with the long, blonde hair stayed up here, by the teller windows. He paced back and forth a lot." She studied the drawings more. "The short, mean one was over here, by the manager's office. The older one had the manager by the vault, over here. They were going through the deposit boxes."
"Wonderful. You did great." Harrelson passed the woman off to a female officer. He studied the plans with Deke.
"The bank owner gave us permission to cut any locks we need to gain entrance. He said the roof vents are locked closed," Deke reported.
"We can handle that," Harrelson said. "Look here." He pointed to a spot on the plans. "Drop in here." His finger traced down the paper. "Enter the ductwork here." He flipped to another page of the plans. "One man in this duct over the teller stations, one man here in the duct above the manager's office, and a third man here above the vault entrance."
"Then we drop in at the vents," Deke said.
"We'll have to be real careful about cross-fire and be sure of our targets. I don't want anyone but those gunmen hit." Harrelson crossed his arms. "What do you think?"
Deke studied the plans carefully. "It looks to be our best bet. It'll certainly be tricky."
"I'll send you in with Luca and Street and see if HQ can phone them – maybe get this diffused while everyone gets into position," Harrelson instructed.
"That'll work." Deke nodded.
"Street. Meet at the van. We have a plan," Harrelson said into his belt mike. "Luca." He motioned for him to join them.
The three SWAT officers easily accessed the bank's roof, cut the locks on the vent shafts with heavy-duty cutters, and dropped into the mechanical room. Using existing shelving, they climbed, prepared to enter the ductwork.
"Make your call. We're ready to enter the ducts," Deke whispered into his mike.
A few thumping heartbeats later, the trio heard a distant phone ringing. On cue, Jim pulled himself into the aluminum ductwork; his rifle slung over his back, and, on his stomach, pulled himself with his arms and pushed with his feet as quietly as a mouse. Dom followed, Deke brought up the rear after carefully replacing the vent they'd removed to get in.
Jim counted the number of side chutes he needed and carefully turned into the duct over the teller stations. Dom did the same for the manager's office and Deke veered off to the duct over the vault.
Peering through the vent slats, Jim could see the gunman pacing below him. He seemed nervous, likely on drugs. Jim knew that made him all the more dangerous. The gunman was only out of view for three seconds in his current pacing pattern. Jim watched and waited for the word to go.
Dom's gunman had taken a seat in the doorway of the manager's office. He was in plain view. Dom could also see a handful of hostages sitting on the floor nearby. That made him a little nervous. He watched and waited for the word to go.
Deke inched to the vent slats over the vault area. He couldn't see anyone, but heard where the gunman and the manager were inside the vault. He watched and waited.
The phone in the manager's office rang and rang. Finally, the man below Dom wheeled his chair back to the desk and grabbed the phone. "What do you want?" the gunman growled into the receiver while rolling his chair back to his post at the doorway. "No, we won't let any more hostages go. Not until all you pigs get out of here. You got ten minutes to get away from the bank – and I mean FAR away, too." He threw the receiver against the wall.
Jim's, Dom's, and Deke's radios all emitted three quick squawks. The three SWAT officers mentally counted to three, kicked out the vents, and dropped to the lobby floor. In the resulting chaos, four shots were fired, all by SWAT. From his crouch, Jim hit the longhaired gunman. Dom's bullet knocked his gunman backwards out of his chair. Deke's first shot hit a deposit box the vault gunman had just pulled out, his second shot downed the gunman.
"Three gunmen down," Deke said into his mike.
Police poured into the bank. None of the gunmen survived, no hostages were injured.
Harrelson strode in and stopped by Dom, still posted by his assigned gunman, and nodded. He moved on to where Jim stood by his assigned gunman, nodding again. Heading for the vault, Harrelson saw Deke kneeling on the floor performing CPR on the bank manager. He rushed in.
"Get the medics in here," Harrelson called out. "We have a heart attack!"
Harrelson pulled Deke back as a pair of the county's paramedics moved into the vault. They briefly looked at the gunman, but it was obvious he was beyond their help.
#
"It might have been an air conditioning duct, but I was sweating like crazy," Jim said, leaning back in his chair at his desk.
"I just knew I'd be sneezing up a storm and get us all shot full of holes," Dom added.
"Sounds crazy to me," TJ said. "How did you guys fit in there?"
"Just barely," Jim said.
They all laughed.
In his office, Harrelson looked out at his crew. "How did Luca do?" he asked Deke.
"Like nothing ever happened to him," Deke said. "No mistakes. No hesitation. His shot was spot on."
"And look at them now. Laughing and unwinding like normal." He tapped his pencil on his desk. "I still can't dismiss what happened, though."
"No," Deke agreed. "But it sure is strange."
"Well, it is Luca we're talking about." The phone rang and Harrelson picked it up, listened for a while, mumbled a "Thank you," and hung up.
"Well, there goes our perfect operation," he said.
"The manager?" Deke guessed.
Harrelson nodded. "He didn't make it. Massive heart attack."
Deke sighed. "Can't blame him – it was a bit stressful in there."
Harrelson stood. "Well, let's break up the party out there and go over these two operations. There's a lot to be learned from both of them."