Jonas Saul - The Hostage

With his mind made up, Drake stepped out of line and walked away from Sarah.

“Rod Howley,” he shouted. “Sarah and I are right here.”

Rod turned from about twenty feet away and stared as he pointed toward where Sarah stood near the elevator’s door.

Elmore ran from the Tim Horton’s and on his way back to his car, he dialed Beck Taxi’s dispatch.

“Beck Taxi?”

“My name is Staff Sergeant Mike King. I’m interested in a fare that got picked up near the corner of Adelaide and Spadina just over an hour ago. It was a young couple. According to the information we’ve received, the cab was flagged down. It wasn’t called in.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” the dispatcher asked.

“Mike King. I’m the lead detective investigating the shooting at the Rogers Centre. We have reason to believe the person of interest took one of your cabs.”

“Look, sir, I can’t give you that kind of information over the phone.”

He ran through traffic at the red light on King Street and continued toward his car, trying to formulate his response. He had to find out where Sarah was dropped off to get there before anyone else could.

“Ma’am, I know you’re aware of the Freedom of Information Act. I could go to any judge in the city and get him to sign a warrant to read your dispatch logs. The difference is, it would take until tomorrow or the day after before I could get the information and that would be a problem.”

He stopped talking to let the dispatcher respond. When she didn’t, Elmore continued, “If you tell me what I need to know now, you save us both a lot of trouble and time. While you decide, keep in mind that we’re hunting a killer on the streets of Toronto. Do you really want that on your conscience if they kill again when you could’ve done something to stop it?”

He heard no response. With all the traffic going by, Elmore wasn’t sure if he’d been disconnected.

Then the dispatcher spoke.

“I’ve only been here a few months. I don’t want to lose my job. I can’t do it.”

“Okay then, I’ll tell you what. Give me what I need and I will personally talk to your boss or whoever you want and tell them that the Toronto police force is indebted to you for your service to the community. I will make their life hell if they even think of firing you. But, on the other hand, go by the book on this one and make me get a warrant, I will tell your boss how difficult you were to work with regarding the location of a murder suspect. I will formally recommend you are fired immediately. Work with me and I will work for you. That’s how this goes. Get it?”

Elmore had made it to the building where his car sat parked in the underground. He had to wait until the call ended before heading down or he’d lose the signal.

“We’re running out of time here,” Elmore prodded. “Make a choice, but make the right one. Help me catch a murderer and I will help you. Decision time.”

Another pause that made him feel the dispatcher was going to disappoint him.

“The CN Tower,” she said.

“What? Really?”

“Yeah… I got it right here.”

Elmore slammed his phone shut and ran down the ramp for his car. The CN Tower sat only one city block away from him. He could be there in less than four minutes.

He jumped in his car and squealed the tires a few times as he raced out of the parking lot.

When he hit Front Street, he set his red police light on the dash of the vehicle and turned it on. As they do in the movies, he jammed on his brakes in front of the tower, opened his door, got out and slammed it shut.

His exposure was high, but with the fake mustache, the clothing and the proper ID, Elmore was confident he could pull it off.

He ran through the main doors, showed his badge and headed for the elevators where he stopped.

A group of seven men stood in a circle around one elevator door, their guns drawn, all watching, waiting as the lift rode down its cables from the top.

Sarah, I got you.

Sarah had seen Rod. She whispered to Drake and started for the open door of the elevator, ducking down to avoid detection.

Drake had stepped out of line and called Rod’s name.

What the fuck is he doing?

Sarah looked across the corridor and into the eyes of Rod Howley. He bolted into action, running at her, his face showing all his anger in an instant.

Sarah lunged out and grabbed Drake’s arm.

“Let’s go!” she shouted and pulled him toward the open elevator. There were too many people. The door crowded up.

She looked back over her shoulder. Rod was five feet away.

“Gun!” she shouted in the most hysterical voice she could summon. “He’s got a gun. Everybody, run!”

She expected instant chaos, but only a few people reacted, looking around to see who carried a weapon.

What is it with Toronto people? Does everyone have a gun?

She had succeeded in clearing the doors enough, but Drake had trouble. Rod was right behind him, reaching for Drake.

“Shoot him,” Sarah yelled. “Use your gun. Kill the scum where he stands.”

That got people moving faster. Rod had caused a scene by running at Drake and Sarah. Men and women ran away from the elevator. One woman shouted that she was calling the police. Another woman just screamed.

Sarah lowered her center of gravity and grabbed Drake around the waist. She pulled him into the elevator while three people edged past them on their way out.

The door began to shut. It got caught and opened again.

Sarah moved to the right and jammed her thumb on the close door button, holding it down.

“Drake, get that fucking door clear,” she yelled at him.

Whatever he heard in her voice, Drake complied. He pushed forward like a defensive linebacker, clearing the door far enough for it to close.

In the small gap of inches, just before the door closed completely, Sarah saw Rod’s face. His expression was complete and utter hatred for having to deal with her this way.

It must really fuck him up to always be chasing me.

Then she turned to Drake. There were three other men still on the elevator with them. All three moved away from her as she glared at Drake.

She brought her hands up, grabbed his collar and shoved him up against the wall.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

One of the men on the elevator reached out and touched her shoulder.

“Hey, take it easy. It’s over. Let him go.”

Sarah slapped the hand off her shoulder. “Whatever touches me again gets broken. Don’t test me when I’m this pissed off.”

She looked into Drake’s eyes, nose to nose. “What was that all about?”

“Get off me,” Drake said. “We will talk when you’re not all up in my face.”

Sarah let him go and looked out the glass wall at Toronto rising to meet them.

“Is it true?” Drake asked. “Did you really knife your ex-boyfriend in the stomach and you’re wanted for murder?”

“Is that what this is all about? Did Spencer tell you that?”

Drake nodded.

“Believe what you want,” Sarah said as she stepped to the corner of the elevator.

“No,” Drake shook his head. “I want to hear it from you. Are you the hero I thought you were or a criminal on the run?”

Tears of disappointment edged into her eyes. “I will tell you this. I’m no hero.”

She couldn’t believe she had actually started to feel something for Drake. Sure he was hot, but she could do without the drama. If he was that easy to sway, anyone could tell him anything and he’d play for that team. Rod had almost got her again.

Rod would radio down to have cops waiting at the bottom. There had to be a way out. The roof was too high to try the square access door. The only way out was the main door.