Richard Doetsch - The 13th Hour

“Look,” Shannon softened his tone. “You haven’t done anything yet, why don’t you get in your cars, get out of here, and we’ll forget about this?”

“You the type that would rat on a fellow officer?” Brinehart interrupted.

“You’ve been a cop for what, a year? Please. Don’t give me this blue code of silence shit.” He turned back to Dance. “Ethan, what the hell are you doing?”

Dance stared for a moment, all ears waiting on him.

“You might forget, but he won’t,” Dance said, pointing a finger at Nick.

Dance suddenly pulled his pistol and shoved it into Shannon’s gut.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Shannon exploded, not bothering to look at the gun. “Put that thing away before I shove it down your throat, dammit. I’m your cousin.”

And without breaking eye contact, Dance pulled the trigger.

The bullet ripped into Shannon’s stomach, knocking him back.

But Shannon didn’t go down. He took three steps forward and grabbed Dance by the neck, slamming him against the building, choking the life out of him.

And Dance shot him again in the gut.

This time Shannon teetered on wobbly legs, stumbling backward, finally collapsing.

Dance’s cohorts swung their heads, looking for witnesses.

Nick stood there in shock, watching the life bleed out of Shannon.

“That’s great,” Brinehart’s voice cracked. “You just killed a cop. In front of a witness, no less.”

“Cuff him,” Dance said, pointing his gun at Nick.

“You going to kill him, too?” Sam finally said, his voice panicked.

Dance walked over to Nick and pulled out his wallet, reading his license. “So, Mr. Quinn, how’d you know what was going on here?”

“Quinn?” Sam said. “That’s the name of Hennicot’s lady attorney. Are you going to kill him?”

“Why would I kill a suspect? We’ve got someone connected to this place to pin this on now. Killing a cop’s a capital offense,” Dance said as he looked at Nick, patting his cheek in a taunting fashion. “Sucks for you.”

JULIA WATCHED AS the stewardess pulled the cabin door closed and turned the crank, sealing them in.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have now closed the cabin door and ask that all cell phones and pagers be turned off for the duration of our flight. You must also turn off all electronic devices until such time as we are airborne and give the direction that you may resume using them.”

Julia quickly dialed Nick’s phone. Finding it going directly to voicemail she quickly spoke. “Hi, honey. I love you. I’m sorry about our fight over having dinner with the Mullers. Not to worry, if you really feel strongly, I’ll cancel them. I’ve got something better planned. Just us. I’m running up to Boston for a quick meeting. Sorry I didn’t tell you that-”

“-I’m sorry, ma’am,” the stewardess interrupted as she leaned down. “The cabin doors are closed, all cell phones must be turned off.”

“Sorry,” Julia mouthed. “Honey, I have to go, I love you. I’ll call you when we land.”

Julia ended the call. “Sorry about that.”

“I never fly without squeezing one last call to my husband either,” the stewardess said. She smiled and headed to the galley.

Julia couldn’t wait to see the surprise on Nick’s face when she told him about the baby.

And she turned off her cell phone, tucking it back into her purse. She put her head back against the soft leather seat, her thoughts still on her husband as she closed her eyes for a quick nap.

“PUT THEM BOTH in the back of my car,” Dance said. Brinehart and Arilio opened the door of Dance’s Taurus and hoisted the body of Robert Shannon into the backseat. Brinehart turned to Nick, his hands cuffed behind his back, and took him by the arm.

“Better yet, Brinehart, you stay out here, keep an eye out.” Dance took Nick by the arm. “Why don’t you just come with us and smile for the cameras.”

Sam turned to the door and slipped his key in the lock. “We’re four minutes behind schedule.”

“And we’ll be five minutes behind if you don’t quit jabbering. I really don’t give a shit, everyone will have to work twice as fast.”

They all pulled on surgical gloves.

“Don’t forget our new partner,” Dance said, handing Nick off to Sam.

“Yeah, right.” Sam said, pushing Nick up next to the door. “For all the world to see.”

Sam hoisted the two duffel bags onto his shoulder, ran his security pass over the scanner, turned the key, and opened the door. He pulled a small box from his bag, a clear red half dome atop it. He flicked a switch on its side and affixed it to the wall. He moved quickly through the house to the whitewashed wood veneer door. He affixed another box to the kitchen counter, flipped the switch, and gave out a low whistle.

Everyone came in behind him.

Again, Sam passed his security card by the side of the door where the scanner was concealed, releasing the magna lock. He pulled back what he knew was a three-inch steel core barrier that led to a brightly lit set of carpeted stairs, the walls covered in a pale green fleur-de-lis wallpaper.

Sam took Nick by the arm, leading him along, ensuring his face was prominently displayed to the hidden camera in the stairwell wall, while shielding himself.

“Wait until I have the door opened and the cameras disabled,” Sam said to Dance, Randall, and Arilio, holding them up at the top of the stairs.

Sam and Nick arrived at the basement door, made of brushed steel and lacking doorknobs or hinges. Nick knew it well, having passed through it several hours ago his time but several hours in the future for everyone else.

Sam pulled the octagonal key from his pocket and triple-checked that the letter D was on top.

“Make sure the letter D is on top or we may not only get locked out but locked in,” Nick said with a smile.

“How the hell did you know that?” Sam shouted at Nick. You could hear the fear in his voice.

“Lucky guess,” Nick said. “But before your friend Dance catches up, you may want to know that he’s going to kill you. I know he’s going to dump Brinehart and Arilio in the reservoir.”

“You think I trust Dance? You think I haven’t already taken steps to protect myself?”

“And how will you protect yourself from your brother, Paul? He knows what’s going on.”

“That’s how you know everything. You work for him, don’t you?” Sam was getting angry. “Don’t you?”

“Actually, he hasn’t met me yet. Wouldn’t know my name or face if he was standing in front of me.”

“What the hell are the two of you talking about?” Dance shouted from the top of the stairs. “Time’s ticking. We’ve only got ten minutes.”

Sam slipped the key into the octagonal lock, the letter D on top, as Nick had said. He entered his brother’s Social Security number in the keypad on the wall, ran the security pass three times by the card reader, turned the key, and pushed open the two-ton door.

Sam knew there was a breach alarm on the steel vault door for unscheduled openings; he knew that it didn’t go to the police as most alarms did, but rather, signaled Dreyfus Security and Hennicot’s attorney. But by the time they were notified and reacted, he would already be gone.

Sam had actually read all of the schematics on the breach alarm and knew how to disable it. It was, in fact, quite simple to take out of service. But the breach alarm was not just for notification, it was also the trigger for the secondary protocols. Not only were the video feeds routed to Hennicot’s attorney’s office, but the secondary cameras not on any grid or plan were activated, their images sent to an encrypted file-cameras whose location he knew and would avoid but that would now capture Dance and his men as they came down the stairs.