Donald Harstad - The Big Thaw

There was a lull in observable activity.

"I can't tell for sure, but I think I count a minimum of nine suspects that I actually saw get out of the van…" said Hester, in a monotone of concentration. "Plus at least three or four already on the boat, one per deck, probably more. Say… about" – and her voice began to pick up inflections again – "fifteen? Total, with a guess at the number in the van…"

"At least," said George.

"And we're… what, until reinforcements arrive?" We all looked at the roster. Counting the two local cops, we were nineteen.

"Well, shit, we've got 'em outnumbered," I said.

"Easily," said Volont.

"What about the other boat agents?" asked George. "How many are working now?"

"One," said Hester. "Let me check where he is… shit… he should have headed toward the boat when the fire alarm went…"

Harmon James, chief of security for the General Beauregard, came flying into the office, face red, and eyes wide.

"Jesus Christ, they've stolen the boat!" He held up his little pocket walkie-talkie. "I don't know who these people are, but they're talking to me on my own radio!"

The mystery voice was saying, "… like I said, your security people are all tied up right now…" and uttered a short laugh.

He stopped waving his walkie-talkie and looked at the group of us. "Well, why aren't you all doing something!"

At that point there was a rolling, basso profundo boom that rattled the windows. We all looked at the boat, and there was nothing. But over at the bank… there was a large area of fog that was slowly turning reddish brown. "Wow! Uh, Alpha One has an explosion at the bank."

It took me a second. "That's gotta be brick dust…"

Sally was up on the normal fire frequency, talking to the Frieberg fire chief. "Negative, we have contact with the people in the bank and they will be fine. There are bank robbers in the bank, and there are… are… pirates on the boat. Just get close and stand by."

George and I both said, "'Pirates'?" at the same time.

"Well, what would you call them? Boat robbers?" She was embarrassed, but not about to back down. She had a point.

"They're hauling stuff off the boat," said Art.

Sure as hell. The van had turned on its fog lights to light the way of two figures pushing a two-wheeled garden cart across the plank.

"Tell me what you have onboard for security," said Volont to James, the security chief.

"Six security officers. Two female, on this shift. One of the officers is a trained emergency medical technician. Not armed. By law." He looked disgusted. "Why, you want us to retake the boat?" He stared at Volont. "Who are you, anyway?"

I held up our little diagram. "We have FBI snipers at four locations. The bad guys have hostages in the bank, and they have hostages on your boat. About five in the bank. How many hostages can we figure on the boat? Five hundred?"

"Closer to six hundred right now, maybe six hundred and fifty." He looked at the diagram, and went up in my estimation about three notches. "You knew about this yesterday, didn't you?"

"Not about the boat. Just the bank."

"That's almost worse," he said.

"Sally, get an ETA for the reinforcements, would you?" Hester pulled her service weapon, and checked the chamber. A Glock 9 mm. "I think we should act as soon as possible."

The phone rang. Sally put it on speaker. It was Gabriel.

"So," he said, "now you know how it's going to go. We won't hurt anyone unless it's absolutely necessary. We will proceed according to our plan, and you can just watch." I could tell he was grinning.

Before Volont could answer him, I just said, "Well, okey-dokey."

There was a brief pause. "Who was that?"

"Houseman," I said. "Hello again."

"Ah, my favorite deputy! Haven't seen you since you snooped around Borglan's. I'm honored."

"Thanks." The fuzziness in my photos must have been Gabriel hightailing it out of there. Confirmation of my paranoia…

"I fear this won't look good on your record, Deputy." He had to be still grinning. "What brings you here?"

"I'm here to arrest you for murder."

"Ah. A sad business. But business can be risky, sometimes. Let me speak with Super Agent Volont."

"I'm here," said Volont.

"I know you're there, you sad bastard. I just hope you can remember what I'm going to tell you. Are you listening?"

Silence.

"I know you are. So. We will leave the boat, first. Well, most of us. One or two of us will stay behind. For a while. Long enough to ensure you don't do something silly when the rest leave the bank." He paused. "Are you getting this?"

Volont wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of an answer. "I am," I said.

"Well, I don't give a fuck about you. You're just a deputy in Nowhere County. Agent Volont's the one who's important here. Aren't you?"

Believe it or not, Volont sort of brightened up at that. "I've taken down all you've said."

"Then pay even closer attention to this. We are in constant communication between each other. If my men from the bank, or from the boat, are followed, the boat goes down. With all the passengers."

"Got it," said Volont.

"Good day," said Gabriel, and the conversation was over.

"And who the fuck was that?" asked James, of boat security.

We kind of told him.

Our radios came to life again.

"CP, Alpha Foot's over by the boat, now. We're in a good position for the van."

"CP, Alpha One has a clear shot at the pilothouse, if you need it. We and the top of the boat are in lighter fog…"

They sounded very professional. Well, they should have. They were. And that got me thinking about professional versus amateur. Us versus them, as it were. We were pros. Even us deputies from "Nowhere County." I have to admit, that pissed me off. Besides, there were about a half-dozen deputies from "Nowhere County" on the way. Along with several state troopers and a state TAC team. And a federal TAC unit in a Huey. Resources. A bunch of 'em.

"Hey?" I interrupted at least two conversations. "Listen up. We're pros, right?"

"We don't need a pep talk," snapped Art.

"Just think about it for a second. Who are these people Gabriel is using for his troops? Think about it."

"So?" Art was having none of this.

"He's got one guy in the bank who knows explosives, right?"

"At least one," said George.

"I'd bet one," I said. "Maybe two on the boat, but for sure one. That's three sharp dudes out of fifteen. Who are the rest of them? Amateurs he's picked up. Nobodies, not when it comes to this stuff."

"They seem to be doing pretty well so far," said George.

"But they haven't encountered any resistance. All the real troops we have are being held on a tight leash. Gabriel counts on that. He knows nobody wants a hostage hurt, so he's betting one hundred percent that he gets a cakewalk, courtesy of us. Right?"

"But, Carl," said Hester, "he's right. We can't risk a hostage. Especially with Gabriel on the boat. He will do the deed, and we know that."

"Think this way. He's got, what, three guns, two or three drivers at the bank, right? That's six of them, with five questionables, against four to six really professional, really capable FBI TAC team members." I looked around. "So, we got 'em outclassed at the bank. Just tell our people there to take out the drivers of the trucks as they leave. We already know he isn't going to leave any of his people behind at the bank. Right? No point."

"But the boat is full of people…"

"Right. But look. We hit the trucks as they leave. Nobody at the boat can see the people at the bank. Not in this fog. So, what do we have there? We shoot, and anybody left alive in the truck either has to sit in the driver's seat and get himself shot, jump off the unit, or hunker down in the damned thing and hide. Piece of cake. We can scarf them up."