Debra Webb - Colby Lockdown

Lucas stepped between the two men, forcing both to take a much-needed step back. “Everyone in this room has a vested interest in how this turns out.” He glanced at Jim, then at Ian. “We will all remain calm and we will lay out a proper strategy. There will be no going in blind or taking unnecessary risks before we have a single detail to go on.”

Slade relaxed marginally. If anyone could control this out-of-control moment, Lucas could.

The chirp of a cell phone shattered the tense silence.

Ian reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out his cell. “Michaels.”

A muscle throbbed in Jim’s hard-set jaw. Lucas stared hopefully at Ian. Slade waited, also hoping that this would be some kind of news. A first move.

Time was slipping by. Every second that lapsed could be one that may have been pivotal to saving one or more lives. The lives of people Slade knew and cared for deeply. Whatever happened, in all probability the Colby Agency would never be the same.

“Yes,” Ian said, “I understand.” He drew the phone from his ear and touched the screen. “As requested, you are on speakerphone.”

Adrenaline moved through Slade’s veins.

“Fourteen staff members as well as Victoria Colby-Camp are now my hostages,” the male voice announced. “All communications inside the building, including the Internet, cell phones and landlines, have been disabled. The building is stalled in lockdown mode and under my control. No one gets in or out. If anyone tries, the hostages will die. If the authorities, local or federal, are contacted, the hostages will die.”

No one made a sound or even breathed. The distant hum of conversation and coffee mugs sliding across tables and counters from below were the only sounds.

“Are you prepared to issue your demands for the release of the hostages?” Ian inquired with amazing calm and self-assurance.

Jim looked away, the fury now visibly pulsing across his brow.

“There are only two.”

Only two. Great, Slade mused.

All four men waited for the harsh nightmare to become a stone-cold reality.

“Former District Attorney Timothy Gordon will be brought, by whatever means necessary, to the front entrance of the building. This demand is nonnegotiable.”

Now Slade got the picture. This wasn’t about the Colby Agency at all. It was about one of Chicago’s most prestigious political figures.

“Is it your intent to exchange the hostages for Gordon?” Ian asked, his tone still incredibly calm.

“I have two demands, Mr. Michaels,” the man said, his voice equally calm and absolutely firm. “When you have met this first demand, we will discuss the status of the hostages as well as the next step.”

“This is Lucas Camp,” the oldest of those gathered in the storeroom asserted. “Before we go any further, we will need proof of life. And a detailed listing of the physical condition of all hostages.”

The caller made a sound, not really a laugh but something on that order. “We have three injuries, none life-threatening. But, Mr. Camp, if you’re asking about the condition of your wife, she is indeed among the injured.”

Jim swore loudly. Ian and Lucas shot him a glare. Slade moved to Jim’s side, placed a hand on his arm and urged him with his eyes to stay calm. The slightest wrong move or comment could set off a chain reaction no one wanted.

“Under the circumstances,” Ian offered, “we must demand that you release the injured hostages before we proceed with negotiations.”

The sound that echoed in the air was an outright laugh this time. “Mr. Michaels, this is a one-way negotiation. You will bring Gordon to the front entrance. As I’ve already explained, we will discuss the release of the hostages at that point and not a moment sooner.”

“You,” Jim warned, stepping forward, “have made a grave mistake. Release the hostages now and we’ll forget this ever happened. Refuse and you have my word that your life will never again be your own.”

“You have sixty seconds to agree to this demand.”

Shock throbbed in the silence that followed.

“If you do not agree to this demand in the next fifty-five seconds,” the voice demanded when no one responded, “one of the hostages will die.”

“This is—” Ian began.

“Fifty seconds,” the man on the phone interrupted. “Another hostage will die with each minute that passes after that.”

More of that choking silence.

“Forty seconds, gentlemen. Perhaps I’ll start with one of the females.” There was a muffled sound followed by the caller shouting to one of his cohorts, “Bring me the deaf woman. I doubt anyone will really miss her.”

Slade held his breath. Dear God…

“We will do everything in our power,” Ian said, shattering the tension, “to meet your demand.”

“Not good enough, Michaels,” the voice warned. “Thirty seconds.”

“How long do we have to bring Gordon to you?” Jim roared.

Ian looked from Lucas to Jim as if he wanted to argue, but fear for his wife as well as the others kept him from voicing his concerns.

“Twenty-three hours and nineteen minutes. You will deliver D.A. Gordon to the front entrance of the building by seven forty-five tomorrow morning or everyone dies. And I do mean everyone.”

“He’ll be there,” Jim announced. “You have my word.”

“Remember, gentlemen,” the voice cautioned, “any contact with the authorities, any attempts to gain entrance to the building, and everyone dies.”

“You have my word,” Jim repeated without reservation. “Gordon will be there on time as requested. We will cooperate fully with all your terms.”

“Excellent. I’m always relieved when no one has to die. But,” the man added, his voice pulsating with pure evil, “I will without remorse execute one hostage after the other until they’re all dead if the need arises. My men will disappear as quickly and untraceably as they appeared. Just like smoke. Do we understand each other?”

“Perfectly,” Jim stated.

The connection was severed. Ian immediately started entering numbers on the keypad of his cell. Jim stopped him. “What’re you doing?”

“Determining if I can track the call back to a traceable number.”

Jim snatched the cell out of his hand. Fury glistened in Ian’s eyes.

“We will contact no one,” Jim told him in no uncertain terms. “We will deliver Gordon just as he requested.”

Again Lucas intervened. “Convoy will get to work on rounding up Gordon,” he suggested. “Ian and I will attempt to get to the bottom of who’s behind this takeover.”

“And my people,” Jim said, “will determine if there is a way inside without detection.”

Three, then five seconds of traumatic silence elapsed.

“Agreed,” Ian said, capitulating.

“Agreed,” Lucas chimed in.

All three looked to Slade. He held up his hands. “I’m ready to do whatever needs to be done.”

“Good.” Jim set his formidable attention on Slade. “Find Gordon. Bring him in.”

Not exactly the easiest job he’d ever been assigned. “What if he doesn’t want to cooperate?” Slade felt the question was a legitimate one.

“Do whatever is necessary,” Jim told him. “Just get him here.”

Slade hesitated to see if Ian would object. When he didn’t, Slade shrugged. “No problem.”

Inside the Colby Agency, 8:50 a.m.

Victoria tightened her lips against the moan that welled in her throat. Her head throbbed and nausea roiled in her stomach.

She couldn’t show the first sign of weakness. The others were depending upon her.

All fourteen of her staff members had been shoved into the conference room. Two others were injured as well. Thankfully none appeared to be life-threatening.