Stephen White - Warning Signs

"Yes. You want to talk to one of the police officers?"

"No, I want you. They'll lie to me without hesitation. You'll hesitate."

Ramp and I were appraising each other over a distance that I guessed was about fifty yards. His body was mostly blocked by the equipment box and the rack of gas cylinders, but I could see him clearly from the chest up. He was holding a phone to his left ear.

The Denver Police helicopter hovered high above him. The thwack, thwack, thwack reverberated like the muted pulse of the city's racing heart.

"How's Lucy?" I asked.

"So far, fine. You ready to relay my demands?"

"If that's what you want me to do."

"It is."

"I'm ready."

"Tell them this. If they shoot me, Lucy dies. I'm not kidding about the switch on my boot. In case that's not enough deterrence, have them try this on instead. See this button?" He raised his free hand.

Sam continued to stare through the binoculars. He said, "He's showing us a red box with a button on it."

"Yes," I said. "I can see your hand. And it does appear that there is something in it."

"Every time I touch this button, it resets a time switch for the explosives inside the building. If I don't hit the button, the switch isn't reset, and the explosives go off in ten seconds. Therefore I have to hit the button every ten seconds. If I hold it down for three seconds continuously, the devices in the building will go off instantly. Do you get it?"

"Yes."

"Explain it to those cops. Talk loudly so I can hear what you say. I want to make sure they get it."

I tried to repeat what Ramp had explained to me. It didn't help my concentration to note that Sam was breathing heavily through his nose and that Rivera's dark brow was dotted with sweat, like old macadam after a gentle rain.

When I was through with the explanation, Ramp said, "You did good. I'm going to be sitting down now between the tanks and the equipment box. In about a minute, I'll give the okay to start the evacuation from the building. I want to remind everyone that the justices come out last, wearing their robes. Remind the cops."

I did.

"Now tell them to get the chopper out of here. It's bothering me."

I said, "Rivera? He wants the chopper out of here."

Rivera stared at me malevolently, as though moving the helicopter had been my idea. Within ten seconds, the helicopter departed in the direction of the state capitol building.

Rivera said, "I want a guarantee he's not going to harm the evacuees."

My mouth was as dry as insulation. "The police are concerned that you're planning to hurt the evacuees as they come out of the building. They want your word that you won't."

"They're assholes. Have I spent my day trying to kill innocent people? Let me talk to the cop, the one you keep talking to."

I handed the phone to Rivera. "He wants to talk to you."

Sam asked me, "How does he sound?"

"Less nervous than me."

"Did he say anything about Lucy?"

"No."

Sam said, "He's smart. Where he's sitting now, the sharpshooters would have a hard time hitting him."

"Could they risk it? The way he has the explosives wired it seems too risky to shoot him."

"Rivera thinks he's bluffing."

I tried to swallow that news and ended up almost choking with the effort. "Rivera thinks the kid is bluffing? After all that's happened this morning?"

"I don't envy him; he's in a tough spot. He doesn't want to be accused of waiting to act, the way the sheriff in Jefferson County did during Columbine."

I asked, "What do you think?"

"Lucy's in that truck. That's what I think."

Rivera handed me back the phone. "He wants you again."

"Yes?"

Ramp's voice was harder now. "Change in plans. Let's see if you guys were planning to play fair. I want the justices outside on the plaza within thirty seconds. In their robes. I'm counting, starting now."

I snapped at Rivera: "He's changed his mind. He wants the justices outside on the plaza in their robes within thirty seconds."

"Shit!" Rivera barked a command into his radio. "We can't do it. We can't do it in time. We have state cops in their robes. Buy some time." He began running down the sidewalk to some of his colleagues who were hidden behind patrol cars in front of the library.

Sam and I followed Rivera as I said, "Ramp! Ramp!" into the phone. I was wondering how the hell I was going to buy some time, but when I looked back over to the truck, Ramp was holding the cell phone high in the air, far from his ear. He wasn't prepared to listen to Rivera's excuses.

Sam broke the news. "Rivera, look. He's got the phone in the air. He's not even listening."

The seconds ticked away. I stared at my watch as three became two became one and then… a sharp craaack filled the air and glass and stone flew out onto the Broadway sidewalk as at least three windows blew out from the third floor.

In my ear, I heard Ramp's voice. "That one was a warning from an empty office. Thirty more seconds. The next one's going to take some people with it. Tell him."

I did.

Rivera yelled commands into the radio. After twenty-two more seconds leaked away, the justices began to exit the building. One by one they walked to the center of the plaza. Their robes swayed gently in the morning breeze. I couldn't see their faces but I could feel their terror, even from this distance.

Ramp said, "The one in back is not a justice. The tall guy. If he doesn't leave that group in five seconds, you assholes will have some blood on your hands. Tell him that. Do it."

I repeated Ramp's message word for word.

Rivera cursed and spoke into his microphone.

A heartbeat later, one tall, robed figure walked backward away from the clustered judges.

"Tell the cop not to screw with me again. I'm not in the mood."

I held the phone a few inches from my mouth and told Rivera what Ramp had just said.

"Now I want the justices to back up against the wall of the History Museum and get on their knees."

Rivera used a megaphone. The justices moved back slowly, reluctantly. The building on the other side of the plaza was the Colorado History Museum. Its wall rose from the stone at an unconventional forty-five-degree angle.

"Now, have the people who are still inside the court building begin a single file evacuation. They should exit to Lincoln, then south. No running. No hands in the air. Just have them walk out. The justices stay put."

Rivera eagerly gave those commands.

Sam had the binoculars to his eyes. He said, "He's been moving that rack of tanks on the back of the truck. He's doing it real slowly, but the bottoms of the tanks are pointing directly at the plaza now. The base of the rack is solid metal, not an open grid. That's not usual, is it? What the hell's he doing?"

I said, "The hostages are coming out, Sam."

One by one, stepping quickly, seemingly fighting an urge to run, a steady stream of men and women began walking from the entrance of the building, across the plaza, down to the sidewalk, and then south on Lincoln.

Rivera touched me on the arm. "Cover the microphone on that cell phone."

I did.

He spoke into his radio. "Give me a status report from the sharpshooters. We're taking him out as soon as anyone is ready. On my order."

W ithout warning, Ramp jumped off the back ofthe truck and hopped into the cab with Lucy. Within seconds, the driver's-side window was blocked with a sheet of cardboard.

Rivera's order to the sharpshooters had been seconds too late.

I thought he looked like a kid who'd missed Christmas and was trying to figure out how to lure the fat man back down the chimney.

"Shit. Now what?" he asked.

Sam pointed at the plaza. "The justices are moving away. Look."