Robert Tanenbaum - Counterplay

Time to get out of here, he thought. It’s dangerous to talk to her.

She’s a witch, the voice said.

“Don’t be stupid,” Kane said, realizing too late he’d spoken aloud.

“I beg your pardon?” Lucy asked.

“I’m sorry, I mean don’t take a chance when the shooting starts,” he said. “Just came out wrong.”

“Freudian slip, eh?” Lucy said with a smile.

“Something like that, I guess,” he said.

“Well, guess I better get back to the action,” Kane said. He nodded at the mailbox. “Just remember, stealing mail is a federal offense, ha ha.” A funny look passed over his face, but he turned and started trotting back up the road.

Lucy stood for a moment watching Agent Hodges. When she turned to look up the drive toward the mansion, her gaze was drawn to the mailbox.

I think you should look inside, Saint Teresa said.

“Why?” Lucy asked aloud, feeling a little foolish about talking to a voice inside of her head.

You never know, the saint answered, a bit flippantly for a holy person, Lucy thought. There’s something not quite right here, and you know it.

“What do you mean?”

Agent Hodges gives me the willies.

“I didn’t know saints got the willies. Which just goes to prove you’re not real.”

Well, he does. You don’t buy that bit about the crappy accent, do you?

“As a matter of fact, I think it makes perfect sense. And it might also be why you and I find him a little creepy, like the guys in that racist organization he infiltrated. Sort of like the Stockholm syndrome where the hostages became empathetic with their captors.”

I suppose it’s possible. But you know and I know that he’s been watching you when he thinks you don’t notice.

“Can I help it if I’m an extremely attractive woman?”

Go ahead, laugh it off. Just keep an eye on him. In the meantime, why don’t you see if there’s anything interesting in the mailbox?

Lucy walked two steps closer to the mailbox and stood looking at it for a moment. Without realizing that she’d formed a conscious thought to do it, she reached for the mailbox door and opened it. There was a small box inside, wrapped in brown paper. She was about to close the mailbox door when she saw that the box inside was addressed to her mother. She grabbed the box and took off running to where her mother was kneeling next to Espey Jaxon.

Marlene took the wrapped box and shook it lightly. She started to open it, but Jaxon grabbed her hand.

“What if it’s a bomb?”

Marlene got up and ran back to the command tent where a federal agent with a German shepherd stood. “Bomb dog?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Mind if he gives this a sniff?” Marlene asked, holding up the package.

“Not at all. Put it on the ground and step back, please.”

Marlene did as told. The dog and his handler approached the box. The dog sniffed it curiously but otherwise didn’t react. “You’re good to go,” the man said.

Marlene ran back to the wall with the box and tore the end open. She tilted the box and poured out its contents. Eight white pawns. She looked at them for a moment, then her eyes grew wide. She turned to Jaxon. “Call it off!”

When the federal agents surrounded the mansion, they’d tried to approach the house to demand that those inside leave the house with their hands up. The federal negotiator had retreated from the resulting gunfire and the siege was on.

Soon after, the Saudi ambassador in Denver had arrived at the scene and placed a call to the home. He’d then demanded that the federal agencies pull back. A prince of the royal family, as well as his wife and children are hostage. The captors are demanding safe passage to Iran.

Assistant director Jon Ellis had nixed the request. The terrorists have the option of laying down their arms. No one will be allowed to leave the mansion with hostages.

Further attempts to negotiate the surrender of the terrorists had broken down. The federal agencies had been given until nine o’clock that night or Prince Bandar, his family, and their servants, some of whom were American citizens, would be executed, one every hour, until the demands were met or all the hostages were dead.

Ellis had decided then to rush the mansion at dusk. We cannot allow Kane to escape, he had said. We need to try to capture him and find out how deep this plot goes. Or, failing that, kill him.

“Call it off,” Marlene insisted again. “I think this was a warning.”

“It’s Ellis’s call,” Jaxon said. “Let’s go talk to him.”

At that moment, a middle-aged man emerged from the mansion. He was wearing a long trench coat and shouting in English.

Jaxon fixed his binoculars on the man. “It’s Prince Bandar,” he said.

“Help me!” the man screamed, as he walked toward one of the SWAT officers, who had his rifle trained on him. Bandar opened his coat to reveal that he had a bomb strapped to his chest. “Help me!”

Two members of the FBI SWAT team edged forward, one of them spoke into his radio, which went to the rest of the team including Jaxon. “Looks like C4. Pretty crude. If I can get close enough, I bet I can disarm it.”

“Allah be merciful,” Prince Bandar cried. “They have my family inside-”

Whatever the man was going to say next was lost in the explosion. He simply disappeared in a flash. As the smoke cleared, Marlene could see the two FBI agents on the ground. One was motionless, the other was writhing in pain.

At that moment, Agent Vic Hodges ran up with his gun drawn. “Ellis wants to know what the delay is.”

“I think we need to call it off,” Marlene said. She pointed at the chess pieces. “I just got those, and I think someone’s trying to tell us something.”

Hodges looked at the white pawns lying on the ground. “What the hell?” he said. “Chess pawns?”

Before anyone could answer, there was the sound of shooting from the house and women and children screaming. A girl, perhaps twelve, darted from the front door screaming. A masked man appeared behind her and shot her before an FBI sniper killed him. Another child screamed inside the house. The federal SWAT team started to rush toward the house.

“Tell your men to wait, Jaxon!” Marlene yelled. “It’s a trap!”

“This is Jaxon, stand down! Stand down!” the agent yelled into his radio.

But it was too late. Driven by the terrified screams of women and children, the SWAT teams were running for the house to try to save the hostages. One paused long enough to throw a flash-bang grenade through the front window, just as other officers were reaching doors and windows on all sides of the building.

Instead of the flash bang of the grenade, however, the entire house went up with a roar. Fifty yards away, Jaxon, Marlene, Lucy, and Hodges were flung to the ground.

Debris rained down on them for what seemed like minutes. When they looked back over the wall, it was at a scene of complete devastation. The house was gone, except for part of the stone fireplace and exposed foundation. A dozen fires burned among the debris of the house and scattered about the yard. There was no sign of the SWAT teams, the hostages, or the terrorists.

The whole world seemed stunned. No one spoke. There were no sounds…except those of Lucy crying.

Three days later, after the SWAT teams and the agency leaders and the postmortem investigators and Marlene, her daughter, and Ned were gone, Agent Vic Hodges-aka Andrew Kane-sat in a dark corner of the bar at the Hotel Jerome off Main Street in Aspen. He was soon joined by Ajmaani, also known as Nadya Malovo.

“And how’s the lovely Samira Azzam?” Kane asked.

Malovo shrugged. “She lives for the day she gets to die in a blaze of glory.”