Steven James - Opening Moves

I thanked him for helping me find the slaughterhouse, got directions from dispatch, and took off for First Capital Bank in Wales.

Radar had done as Tod’s kidnapper had demanded.

Once he was inside the bank, once he had the three bank employees and two customers restrained, he’d called the cable news stations and instructed them to send their news crews immediately, to have their cameras ready, because they would need to catch what was going to happen at 4:25.

And now, already, the news crews and law enforcement were starting to arrive. SWAT was setting up a perimeter around the parking lot.

The phone rang. Earlier Tod’s kidnapper had told him to expect a call and Radar picked up.

The man let him speak to his son, who was terrified, crying, then he warned Radar again not to let him down. “You would not want to see what Tod’s going to look like if you don’t do what I said. I’ll be watching.”

Then before hanging up, he told Radar what had happened beneath the barn.

Convinced the man was telling the truth, Radar lowered the receiver and tried to steel himself to actually do what would be necessary to save his son’s life.

Ralph stepped out of his car.

Sheriff’s deputies, local police, and a SWAT team had taken position around the bank. News crews from four different cable stations were setting up remotes just beyond the police tape. More news vans were on their way.

He looked around, then asked a lieutenant who appeared to be calling the shots, “Who was in charge here?”

“I’m in charge,” the man answered sharply. “Who are you?”

“Were.”

“Were?”

“You were in charge.” Ralph flipped out his creds. “Hand me that megaphone.”

4:14 p.m.

11 minutes until the gloaming

Radar heard Ralph calling to him through a megaphone, commanding him to exit the bank, but he ignored the agent’s orders.

Out the window, Radar could see more emergency vehicles pulling in. SWAT and local police were there in full force. He recognized the Flight for Life helicopter from the Milwaukee Regional Medical Center hovering overhead.

He turned and looked at the five hostages who were lying facedown on the floor, their hands and feet secured with the plastic cuffs he’d brought with him.

The phone rang. Radar stared at it, wondering if it was Tod’s kidnapper again.

He picked up.

“What are you doing, Radar?” It was Ralph.

“He’s got my son. The guy from this week. He’s got Tod.”

“He was the one on the phone, wasn’t he? The call you wanted me to trace?”

“Yes. Did you get it?”

“No. Just so you know, Gayle and Angie, they’re fine. They’re at the station. They’re safe.”

“Thank God.”

“Is Tod…I mean, do you know if…?”

“I talked to him. He wasn’t hurt, but he was crying. Scared.”

A pause. “What did he ask you to do, Radar? Just take the bank? If that’s it, then it’s done. Let those people go.”

“He said they need to stay here.”

“Until when?”

“Just get Pat over here.”

“He’s on his way.”

“And don’t have SWAT move in, Ralph. This is my kid we’re talking about.”

Another pause. “I won’t. But just be easy, bro. Do you know anything at all about the guy who took Tod?”

“He called me Radar.”

“What?”

“He knows me somehow, but I couldn’t recognize his voice. I’ve been thinking about it, I have no idea who he could be.”

“Someone from the department?”

“I don’t know. But he didn’t attract attention when he dropped off that package for me in the lobby.”

“I’ll do some checking on guys who fit our suspect’s description. Pat will be here in a couple minutes. In the meantime, don’t do anything stupid.”

4:21 p.m.

4 minutes until the gloaming

I screeched to a stop alongside the police barricade. I didn’t want the bloody dressings caught on camera, so I tugged them off and left them on the seat.

Fortunately, my jacket covered most of the blood, but as I stepped out of the car, I zipped it up anyway. Two officers met me and, as television cameras followed us, hustled me to a SWAT van the size of a small mobile home.

Inside, I found Ralph, the SWAT commander, as well as Lieutenant Thorne, Lyrie, and a female officer from internal affairs. What she was doing here right now was anyone’s guess.

“Heard you were shot,” Thorne said concernedly. “You alright?” Everyone else was asking the same question with their eyes.

“Yeah.” I indicated toward the bank. “What do we know?”

“Are you sure you’re-?”

“I’m fine.” I waited for the update. Ralph spoke up: “As far as we can tell, he’s got three bank employees, two or three customers.”

“Do we have a video feed of the surveillance cameras?”

“Not yet. SWAT’s working on it.”

I saw two phones and headsets. “Who’s talking with him?”

“For now, me. Radar mentioned that the guy who took his son, he called him by his nickname. Called him Radar.”

“What? He knows him?”

Ralph shook his head. “We don’t know. But right now we need to move. He told me you have to be in there by 4:25. I don’t know why, but he’s really sketchy right now and I don’t want to push things.”

My gun had jammed earlier, but Radar didn’t know that and I guessed he wouldn’t want me coming in armed. I unholstered my weapon, handed it to Ralph. “Let’s go.”

“You need a vest.”

“He’s my partner. He’s not going to shoot me.”

“You go in there,” Ralph said firmly, “you’re going in wearing a vest.”

This wasn’t the time to argue and I didn’t want to waste what few precious minutes we had.

I couldn’t help but cringe as I slumped off the jacket.

Everyone in the van stared at the blood covering half of my chest and most of my sleeve. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” I assured them, even though it hurt like it was. I picked up a vest and began to put it on, trying not to move my left arm at all, but it wasn’t possible and pain chugged through me again, this time, actually making me dizzy.

I had to stop, close my eyes, and try to funnel the pain into another place.

Ralph carefully helped me into the vest. When he was done, I pointed to his voluminous FBI jacket tossed on a chair in the corner. “I don’t want to walk past those cameras with my shirt covered with blood and I don’t want to alarm the hostages. My jacket’s gonna be too hard to get into. Let me use that thing.” There was still a dark stain on my pant leg where I’d been stabbed with the scalpel, but I could deal with that.

He grabbed the jacket and helped me ease it on. “Congratulations,” he said, trying to keep things light. “You’ve been promoted.”

“Thanks.” I zipped up. “Tonto.”

Using one of the portable phones in the SWAT van, Ralph put a call through to the bank and then nodded for me. “We’re a go. He’s waiting for you. Be careful in there.”

“I will.”

Leaving the van, I held out my hands to show that I wasn’t armed. With the gunshot wound, it hurt terribly to move that left arm, let alone hold it to the side, but I did the best I could. Trying to conceal my limp, I crossed the parking lot.

The walk seemed to take forever.

I made it to the door.

Paused.

Then laid my hand against the glass and pressed it open.

4:25 p.m.

The gloaming

Five hostages on the floor, all restrained. Radar stood beside the counter, his weapon out, a wild, flighty look in his eyes.

“Get away from the door, Pat.”