Читать книгу Colby Lockdown - Debra Webb - Страница 8

7:57 a.m.

He was going to be late this morning.

Slade Convoy didn’t actually have to be at work today, but the excitement of closing another case had to be shared. And no one understood that better than his colleagues at the Colby Agency.

His last case had been a tough one. A missing child and dysfunctional parents. The agency had been contacted by the child’s paternal grandparents. Seven days missing, the child was presumed by many to be dead. Slade himself had had his doubts about finding her alive.

A triumphant smile slid across his lips. But he’d found her, very much alive. Right where her bipolar mother had hidden her.

The child was back with her father under the supervision of loving grandparents. All was right in their world once more.

The story had to be shared. He had to bask in the glory of victory with the folks who had become his family. The only family he’d ever had, really.

Slade shook off the ugly thoughts and focused on maneuvering the Magnificent Mile. As a kid he’d never imagined that one day he would work in the area. He’d considered himself lucky to have a decent meal before bedtime each night.

Life was good…now.

He appreciated every single moment.

His cell vibrated as he slowed for a traffic signal. He tucked his fingers into his pocket and fished out the phone.

He glanced at the screen and immediately recognized Ian Michaels’s number. Ian was his boss. One of them anyway. Ian and Simon Ruhl were at the top of the Colby Agency food chain. Victoria ran the show, but never without the input of those two.

Slade slid the phone open. “What’s up?” Strange, Slade thought, that Ian would call at this hour. Ian had bragged that today he intended to do something special with his kids.

“We have a situation.”

Ian Michaels wasn’t one to mince words and his tone was always calm and reserved. The man never lost his cool. Never raised his voice. And never, ever backed down or sugarcoated anything. He was about as soft as an eight-pound sledgehammer. But Slade could tell from Ian’s tone something was wrong.

Slade shifted his foot to the accelerator as the light changed to green. Whatever the situation, it was bad. Very bad.

“A situation?” Slade returned.

“Meet me at Maggie’s across the street from the agency. I’ll be waiting on the second floor.”

“I’m close. Be there in a sec,” Slade assured him. The connection ended so he slid the phone closed and tucked it back into the pocket of his jeans as he scouted for a parking slot on a side street. Maggie’s Coffee House had once been a ritzy restaurant that had slowly shifted focus over the years to become a street-level café. The second floor of the artsy coffeehouse that had once been a private dining room was now used mainly for storage.

Why the hell would Ian be waiting there?

After parking his four-wheel-drive truck, Slade double-timed it up the sidewalk toward the front entrance of Maggie’s. He hesitated when he saw a familiar face heading in the same direction from the street.

“Lucas?”

Lucas Camp stopped, one hand on the door leading into Maggie’s. “Convoy,” the older man acknowledged, obviously not surprised.

This was getting more bizarre by the moment. Lucas was Victoria’s husband, but he wasn’t on the staff of the Colby Agency. Slade hustled over to the door. “What’s going on?”

Lucas shook his head. “I don’t know the details yet. Ian asked that I meet him here ASAP.” A glimpse of worry flashed in the man’s eyes before he moved forward, leading the way through the door. At the hostess’s questioning look, Lucas gestured toward the stairs beyond the serving counter. She nodded as if she understood exactly what was going on.

Slade sure as hell wished he knew what was going on as he climbed the stairs behind Lucas. Well into his sixties, Lucas was damned fit, but he’d lost a leg in a long-ago war and the prosthesis he wore slowed him down a bit. But Lucas Camp didn’t need any sympathy from Slade or anyone else. The man could be lethal when the need arose. He’d worked numerous deep-cover operations with the CIA for years. Even since retiring he still returned to D.C. monthly to advise the agency on the best way to conduct upcoming operations.

On the second floor, the big single room was cluttered with boxes of paper goods. Across the room near the windows overlooking the Mag Mile, Ian Michaels waited. He turned to face the new arrivals and there was no mistaking the grim expression he wore.

Whatever was going down, it was bad.

“What’s going on, Ian?” Lucas demanded as he and Slade weaved their way through the stacks of boxes.

“Jim is on his way,” Ian advised, avoiding a direct answer to the question.

Slade stared at the building across the street as he neared Ian’s position. His gaze zeroed in on the windows of the floor where the Colby Agency suite of offices should have been buzzing with activity. It was Monday morning after all. From the outside the situation appeared to be like any other snowy January day. No smoke billowing, no shattered glass, no official emergency vehicles in the vicinity of the building. What could be wrong?

“That’s good,” Lucas said in response to Ian’s statement regarding Jim, “but that doesn’t answer my question.”

Ian shifted his attention to the windows of the Colby Agency offices Slade still surveyed. “At seven forty-five this morning, a group of armed men dressed as SWAT agents laid siege to the agency and everyone inside.”

“That’s…crazy….” A chill penetrated deep into Slade’s bones. Mondays were early days. The weekly briefing. Not only was Victoria—Lucas’s wife and the head of the agency—in there, but so was every single member of the staff except for Slade and Ian…including Ian’s wife, Nicole.

“How many men?” Lucas asked the question before Slade could gather his wits and utter the same.

With an uncharacteristic shake of his head, Ian turned once more to face them. “I don’t know for certain. Nicole managed to get a call through to my cell but she was cut off before…” He swallowed with difficulty. “Before she could fully assess the situation. She mentioned five, then seven. But there could be more.”

The same terror humming beneath Ian’s tone had claimed the usually unreadable expression on Lucas’s face. “Was Nicole aware of any injuries?”

“She didn’t get a chance to relay anything more.”

“The security guards on duty have most likely been neutralized,” Slade suggested, now visually measuring the front entrance. He hoped no one had been killed but there was always that possibility. Anyone else from the businesses housed on the other floors who might have opted to go into work early that morning had likely been taken prisoner or were dead. “We should call LSS and have them issue a warning to stay clear of the building.”

LSS, Lockdown Security Systems, were the folks in charge of the building’s physical security.

“That was going to be my next—”

“That was the first call I received this morning,” Ian said, cutting off Lucas. “LSS called to inform me that the building was in lockdown mode due to a gas leak and no one was to enter until the all clear was given. Before I could question the directive or pass along that the agency already had people inside, Nicole’s call came in.”

Lucas surveyed the building in question once more. “I don’t see any official vehicles. No city maintenance crews.”

“I assume the so-called leak was a ploy to enact lockdown. I’ve had no further word from LSS so I have to assume someone is running interference there.”

Ian was right. Whoever had set this game in motion had done their homework. “Have you called the Chicago P.D.?” Slade asked. Since there were no cruisers in the vicinity he imagined the answer was no, but Ian could certainly have informed one of the agency’s many contacts within Chicago P.D. to come in dark. The real SWAT folks could be on standby out of sight.

“That’s not a move I want to make until I fully comprehend the terms of this situation.”

Understandable. Until the terms were known, their hands were tied to a great degree.

“What’s happening, Lucas?”

All three turned as Jim Colby crossed the room. The man hadn’t made a sound on the stairs. Slade never ceased to be impressed by Victoria’s son. He’d been trained as a mercenary as a boy. Could kill a man in mere seconds with nothing but his bare hands. As tall and muscled as he was, he could still move as stealthily as any predator of the jungle.

Lucas quickly explained what little Ian knew at this point. The fury that started to throb in Jim’s temples warned that he would not stand by and wait for terms. Slade wanted to act as well. But, as Ian had shown already, this was the time for patience and levelheadedness. Jim Colby possessed neither.

“I’ll assemble my team,” Jim announced. “We’ll move in within the hour.”

Jim ran a private investigations shop. But his staff worked around the law more often than not. They called themselves the Equalizers. In sharp contrast, the Colby Agency maintained a stellar reputation, going to great lengths to cooperate fully with law enforcement. Victoria and Jim didn’t see eye to eye on the way business was to be conducted.

“No.”

The single syllable echoed in the silence that followed. Only two men on this planet had the guts to stare Victoria’s son in the eye and tell him no: Lucas Camp and the one who’d just said the word—Ian Michaels. This was about to get hairy.

“If we’re not going in,” Jim growled, his gaze narrowing with the rage climbing inside him, “then what are you suggesting we do?”

“We do nothing,” Ian said flatly, “until we know what the terms of this takeover are. Any step we take might be the wrong one. We wait for the man in charge to make his demands.”

Jim walked two steps away, his hands planted on his hips, apparently to regain some measure of control. Or maybe to mentally pull together an entrance strategy.

Lucas took a breath. “Jim,” he said as calmly and quietly as could be expected under the circumstances, “Ian has a valid point. We have to think tactically here. Allowing an emotional reaction could cause more harm than good.”

Jim glared at his stepfather, then at Ian. “Reacting is not my specialty. This calls for action. Now.” He said the last with a pointed stare at Ian. “Waiting will only allow the intruders to gain a stronger foothold.”

Ian’s grim expression remained in place as he held the other man’s lethal glare. “I am Victoria’s second-in-command. I am and will continue to be in charge. We will proceed with caution.”

Jim reclaimed the steps he’d taken, putting him toe-to-toe with Ian. “Victoria is my mother. We’ll do things my way. No negotiations.”

Slade shared a look with Lucas. The circumstances were sensitive to say the least. Both men were strong-willed and each had a legitimate point. But, as a staff member of the Colby Agency, Slade’s alliance had to be with Ian. Jim was operating solely on emotion. Bad business at a moment like this.

Lucas stepped between the two men, forcing both to take a much-needed step back. “Everyone in this room has a vested interest in how this turns out.” He glanced at Jim, then at Ian. “We will all remain calm and we will lay out a proper strategy. There will be no going in blind or taking unnecessary risks before we have a single detail to go on.”

Slade relaxed marginally. If anyone could control this out-of-control moment, Lucas could.

The chirp of a cell phone shattered the tense silence.

Ian reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out his cell. “Michaels.”

A muscle throbbed in Jim’s hard-set jaw. Lucas stared hopefully at Ian. Slade waited, also hoping that this would be some kind of news. A first move.

Time was slipping by. Every second that lapsed could be one that may have been pivotal to saving one or more lives. The lives of people Slade knew and cared for deeply. Whatever happened, in all probability the Colby Agency would never be the same.

“Yes,” Ian said, “I understand.” He drew the phone from his ear and touched the screen. “As requested, you are on speakerphone.”

Adrenaline moved through Slade’s veins.

“Fourteen staff members as well as Victoria Colby-Camp are now my hostages,” the male voice announced. “All communications inside the building, including the Internet, cell phones and landlines, have been disabled. The building is stalled in lockdown mode and under my control. No one gets in or out. If anyone tries, the hostages will die. If the authorities, local or federal, are contacted, the hostages will die.”

No one made a sound or even breathed. The distant hum of conversation and coffee mugs sliding across tables and counters from below were the only sounds.

“Are you prepared to issue your demands for the release of the hostages?” Ian inquired with amazing calm and self-assurance.

Jim looked away, the fury now visibly pulsing across his brow.

“There are only two.”

Only two. Great, Slade mused.

All four men waited for the harsh nightmare to become a stone-cold reality.

“Former District Attorney Timothy Gordon will be brought, by whatever means necessary, to the front entrance of the building. This demand is nonnegotiable.”

Now Slade got the picture. This wasn’t about the Colby Agency at all. It was about one of Chicago’s most prestigious political figures.

“Is it your intent to exchange the hostages for Gordon?” Ian asked, his tone still incredibly calm.

“I have two demands, Mr. Michaels,” the man said, his voice equally calm and absolutely firm. “When you have met this first demand, we will discuss the status of the hostages as well as the next step.”

“This is Lucas Camp,” the oldest of those gathered in the storeroom asserted. “Before we go any further, we will need proof of life. And a detailed listing of the physical condition of all hostages.”

The caller made a sound, not really a laugh but something on that order. “We have three injuries, none life-threatening. But, Mr. Camp, if you’re asking about the condition of your wife, she is indeed among the injured.”

Jim swore loudly. Ian and Lucas shot him a glare. Slade moved to Jim’s side, placed a hand on his arm and urged him with his eyes to stay calm. The slightest wrong move or comment could set off a chain reaction no one wanted.

“Under the circumstances,” Ian offered, “we must demand that you release the injured hostages before we proceed with negotiations.”

The sound that echoed in the air was an outright laugh this time. “Mr. Michaels, this is a one-way negotiation. You will bring Gordon to the front entrance. As I’ve already explained, we will discuss the release of the hostages at that point and not a moment sooner.”

“You,” Jim warned, stepping forward, “have made a grave mistake. Release the hostages now and we’ll forget this ever happened. Refuse and you have my word that your life will never again be your own.”

“You have sixty seconds to agree to this demand.”

Shock throbbed in the silence that followed.

“If you do not agree to this demand in the next fifty-five seconds,” the voice demanded when no one responded, “one of the hostages will die.”

“This is—” Ian began.

“Fifty seconds,” the man on the phone interrupted. “Another hostage will die with each minute that passes after that.”

More of that choking silence.

“Forty seconds, gentlemen. Perhaps I’ll start with one of the females.” There was a muffled sound followed by the caller shouting to one of his cohorts, “Bring me the deaf woman. I doubt anyone will really miss her.”

Slade held his breath. Dear God…

“We will do everything in our power,” Ian said, shattering the tension, “to meet your demand.”

“Not good enough, Michaels,” the voice warned. “Thirty seconds.”

“How long do we have to bring Gordon to you?” Jim roared.

Ian looked from Lucas to Jim as if he wanted to argue, but fear for his wife as well as the others kept him from voicing his concerns.

“Twenty-three hours and nineteen minutes. You will deliver D.A. Gordon to the front entrance of the building by seven forty-five tomorrow morning or everyone dies. And I do mean everyone.”

“He’ll be there,” Jim announced. “You have my word.”

“Remember, gentlemen,” the voice cautioned, “any contact with the authorities, any attempts to gain entrance to the building, and everyone dies.”

“You have my word,” Jim repeated without reservation. “Gordon will be there on time as requested. We will cooperate fully with all your terms.”

“Excellent. I’m always relieved when no one has to die. But,” the man added, his voice pulsating with pure evil, “I will without remorse execute one hostage after the other until they’re all dead if the need arises. My men will disappear as quickly and untraceably as they appeared. Just like smoke. Do we understand each other?”

“Perfectly,” Jim stated.

The connection was severed. Ian immediately started entering numbers on the keypad of his cell. Jim stopped him. “What’re you doing?”

“Determining if I can track the call back to a traceable number.”

Jim snatched the cell out of his hand. Fury glistened in Ian’s eyes.

“We will contact no one,” Jim told him in no uncertain terms. “We will deliver Gordon just as he requested.”

Again Lucas intervened. “Convoy will get to work on rounding up Gordon,” he suggested. “Ian and I will attempt to get to the bottom of who’s behind this takeover.”

“And my people,” Jim said, “will determine if there is a way inside without detection.”

Three, then five seconds of traumatic silence elapsed.

“Agreed,” Ian said, capitulating.

“Agreed,” Lucas chimed in.

All three looked to Slade. He held up his hands. “I’m ready to do whatever needs to be done.”

“Good.” Jim set his formidable attention on Slade. “Find Gordon. Bring him in.”

Not exactly the easiest job he’d ever been assigned. “What if he doesn’t want to cooperate?” Slade felt the question was a legitimate one.

“Do whatever is necessary,” Jim told him. “Just get him here.”

Slade hesitated to see if Ian would object. When he didn’t, Slade shrugged. “No problem.”