Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
What the hell had the police been thinking? Philippa couldn't believe it. Why in the world were they coming to the rescue like some goddamn cavalry regiment, blaring their sirens so that even the dumbest robber knew walking out the front door was a bad idea. If the driver of their getaway car was any good, he, well, had gotten away by now.
Aside from that the robbers were behaving oddly.
They were a good crew, complementing each other almost perfectly. The way they communicated via sign language, subtle, barely perceptible signals… it spoke of military or paramilitary training. And very meticulous preparation.
She had expected them to rush straight for the cash outside the vault. Grab-and-run, no fooling around with the steel-reinforced door or lengthy discussions with the manager about how he couldn't open the thing on his own, needed an additional key that only the director himself had bla bla...
But none of that.
Cash seemed to be the last thing on the mind of the thugs. They just stood around, watched them… they took turns, while two hamsters were on sentinel duty, the third rested in a corner… with food and drink from a bag they had brought with them.
The food, more than anything else, worried Philippa deeply. It was almost as if they, from the very beginning, had been planning to get stuck in here.
In addition to that the leader's body language was strange. He sometimes went rigid, then retreated into a corner outside their view. Only when he touched his ear Philippa realized that he was wearing some sort of ear piece.
He was in contact with someone outside.
Not a good sign. Not at all.
She shouldn't have brought Ash in here. Into a bank! She should have known it was a risk. But in the past few years she had gotten more and more careless… with his father, grandfather and Guerrero keeping an eye on Ash, she had gradually allowed herself to relax a little, especially since the boy was getting older and didn't accept rules just like that anymore.
In his younger years she had been able to keep him in hotel kitchens all day and he never rebelled. But now? In the past year Ash had proven more than once that he was not willing to simply play along anymore.
Despite the situation, Philippa's mind went back to the conversation they had had this morning, only seconds before they had entered the goddamn bank.
What did I inherit from you?
They needed to tell him the truth. Especially now, that he had seen the weapons she was carrying around. He'd never let go of that. It was time to end all those lies.
She slowly turned her head and looked at her son. He was doing so well, breathing calmly, attentive but not panicking. She could see, should anything happen that required quick reaction, he'd be able to jump up, roll over, take cover within milliseconds. His father and his lot had taught him well.
Nevertheless he looked incredibly vulnerable. Ice-hockey training, sparring, all that martial arts stuff had provided him with some serious bulk, his shoulders had become visibly broader in the past two years, but still… underneath all that extra muscle he was just a fifteen year old boy.
Her little boy.
Angry grumbling from the leader brought her back to the harsh reality of their present situation. She needed to focus. Something had happened and she had missed it because she had dwelt on currently irrelevant questions.
Concentrate, Philippa, she chided herself. What did you tell Ash about always having to keep at least a part of his mind sober? Maybe you should listen to your own advice once in a while.
"Search the lockers", the leader told hamster one and two. "We'll keep an eye on the hostages." With a single beckoning movement he called hamster three away from the corner where he was resting and having a snack.
Hamster number three's mask was slightly moving up and down when he took position in the middle of the room. Philippa concluded he was still chewing on the last piece of his sandwich… the first unprofessional move since they had entered the bank…. It indicated a sudden change of plans. But why?
What was even more upsetting was the fact that they did not fool around with the manager at all. They simply let him lie on the ground with the other hostages, as if his key to the vault didn't matter at all.
A few seconds after the leader had given out the command to search the lockers, they could feel the floor slightly rumble… They had opened the vault! Without explosives or the manager's assistance.
Hell, what was this about?
… … …
Snitches are, in a lot of ways, like prairie dogs. Yes, most people like to compare them to rats, but actually watchfulness and a highly developed survival instinct characterize their daily routine. Sneakiness is only ranked third place.
One major key to staying alive was keeping an eye on what the other snitches did. Like prairie dogs, who are always not only on the lookout for enemies but also for changes in their direct environment; when one prairie dog starts running, the others are very likely to follow because chances are he spotted some terrifying, prairie dog eating monster approaching.
Better flight than fight is another attitude snitches share with prairie dogs.
So when Victor Joubert started asking around for information on the Castro district robbery turned hostage taking about two hours after it had started, it sent a ripple of terror through the snitch community. When Guerrero – yes, THE Guerrero – ordered his people to collect info, too, that ripple turned into an earthquake. And when, in addition to these two snitch eating monsters, Innokentij Krektovic, the leader of горизонт, also began asking questions it was Armageddon.
They fled the city in droves.
At least those who managed to flee, that is.