Amber Morn (25 page)

“What, you think
I’m
gonna bring it in while you got armed men on the street? No, it’s not inside!”

“Nobody is out there. You said you were going to send someone else out to get it. Go ahead and do that. It’s safe.”

“I’ll
bet
it is.”

Vince wrapped his fingers around the arm of his chair. He wanted to bring Wicksell’s temper under control. On the other hand, if the man needed to vent, best let him do it. Maybe the anger would play itself out.

“Okay, Kent, the television isn’t going anywhere. When you’re ready to bring it in, we can proceed.”

For another five minutes Wicksell argued and cussed. Vince maintained a calm tone, but Wicksell ranted on. Twice Vince reminded him they couldn’t move forward until someone pulled the television into Java Joint. The reporters were standing by. T.J.’s story would air — but not until Wicksell gave the word that he was ready to watch the coverage, because that’s what the two of them had agreed upon, and Vince was holding up his side of the bargain.

“All
right
,” Wicksell finally seethed, “just get
off
me!”

A
crack
shot through Vince’s ear. Wicksell had slammed the phone down.

SIXTY

“You!” Kent spun on his heel and pointed. “Get up!”

S-Man felt Leslie’s hand tighten on his. He eased his fingers from her grasp.
It’s okay,
he told her with his eyes. To his left, Paige fixed him with a wide stare, her forehead crinkled. Her face said it all —
Ted, don’t let them kill you too!

S-Man pushed back from the table and stood up. Surprising, under the circumstances, how good it felt to stretch his legs.

He was used to sitting for hours at a time to write, but that was different. Ensconced in his Saurian world, he wouldn’t register that his rear end was tired or his back muscles tight — until the lapse of concentration that tumbled him back into the real world. It was like a switch being thrown.
Bam
, all the aches and pains shouted at him.

S-Man stole a glance at his contracts lying on the edge of the counter. The papers that promised his new life as a novelist. It seemed like days ago he’d been signing them.

Kent plucked his gun off the table where the telephone lay. Pointed it at S-Man. “You’re gonna go outside and bring the TV in.” He threw a look at Mitch, who stood guard near Bailey. “Get hold of her.” He pointed to Leslie. His calculating eyes cut back to S-Man.

Mitch stepped to Leslie and clenched scrawny fingers around her arm. Dragged her to her feet. She cried out and stumbled backward. He wrapped one arm around her neck.

White-hot rage shot through S-Man. His muscles jerked, every nerve within him straining to let his fist fly at Mitch. In a split second he willed himself to hold back. Whatever he did would only be taken out on Leslie.

“Good choice, Space Cowboy,” Kent sneered. “Yeah, I saw the look on your face.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Nice and slow now. I’ll be watching from inside the door. Get the TV and bring it in here. No fast moves, no running for it — and your little blonde reporter will get to sit back down beside you, all nice and quiet.”

S-Man’s eyes briefly met Leslie’s as he moved around the table. He limped across the café, unbolted the door. Opened it — to strong sun and fresh air. He blinked at the light, the heady sweetness of the air caressing his face. He breathed in hungrily.

The barrel of Kent’s gun poked into his back.

“Go.”

Squinting, S-Man stepped over the threshold and onto the sidewalk. Warm sun poured down over him, reflecting against white pavement. His narrowed eyes took in the eerie, empty street, the shot-out buildings on the other side. The Simple Pleasures storefront lay in ruins, windows shattered. Glass everywhere.

Not a person in sight. Like some abandoned war zone in Sauria.

Before him at the curb sat the TV.

S-Man walked toward it, taking in all he could through his peripheral vision. No SWAT man peeked around a corner, no sniper visible on the Simple Pleasures rooftop. For the first time since the gunmen had appeared, S-Man felt overwhelmed by the sheer
aloneness
of it all. Had the entire town abandoned all of the hostages to their fate?

He crossed to the curb, hearing his own hollow footsteps and nothing more.

Like walking into
The Outer Limits.

He reached the table, saw it was on wheels. Pulled it toward him, then got behind it. His back to the Main Street he once knew, S-Man pushed the table to Java Joint’s door and over the threshold. Its wooden wheels bumped across the metal strip.

Brad and Kent were arguing again about things not moving fast enough. Kent threw cuss words over his shoulder as he kept a steely eye on S-Man. Mitch tossed in his own opinion. Kent shouted him and Brad down.

“Get out of the way!” Kent screamed at S-Man.

He moved aside, and Kent slammed and bolted the door. Java Joint’s claustrophobic, sweat-laden air clawed at S-Man. His eyes opened wide in the dimness.

Lingering sensations from his seconds of freedom fled from his mind.

He looked to Leslie. Mitch had her even tighter by the throat, anger at his father goading his moves. Her wide eyes spelled terror, but her clamped jaw screamed indignation. His independent, fighter Leslie.

“You don’t have to choke her, Mitch,” Kent spat.

Mitch eased off.

Kent swung back to S-Man, his face dark. “Don’t just
stand
there — roll it to the counter.”

S-Man did as he was told. He wanted Mitch’s hands
off
Leslie — the woman he loved with all his heart.

The woman who was leaving him in a couple of weeks.

If
they survived.

In that inopportune moment — with the wood of the table under his hands and a crass comment from Brad hitting his ears — a giant movie screen of his and Leslie’s future unfurled in S-Man’s brain. The picture was so vivid, so
right
, he marveled that he’d not seen it before. Why wait while Leslie went off on her own, hoping she’d come back to him? Why not go with her? He’d convince her to marry him. Together they’d go wherever the reporting jobs took her. He was seeing his dreams come true; so was she. Why should they have to choose between those dreams and each other?

A novelist could write anywhere.

“Stop! Leave it there.” Kent’s voice drilled into his thoughts. “Go sit down.”

S-Man turned around, feeling almost light, a tiny smile on his lips. Kent gave him a suspicious look. “Move it.”

When S-Man reached the table, Mitch unwrapped his arm from Leslie’s throat and pushed her. She fell into her chair as S-Man lowered into his. He took her hand, squeezed it hard. Gave her a reassuring nod.

Leslie’s eyes misted, but she hefted her chin and blinked the tears away. Throwing a glance to kill at Kent, she muttered one word under her breath.

“Pig.”

SIXTY-ONE

Vince hunched at his desk, dragging a hand back and forth across his chin as he strained to hear the muted noises from within the café. When Kent slammed down his receiver, he’d left the line connected. Vince couldn’t make out what was happening.

With every passing minute, his tension ratcheted higher. Larry had left the office, but not before pointing to the word he’d written across the girls’ pictures. Vince reminded himself of that victory.

He heaved back in his chair, exchanged a frustrated look with Justin. Got up. Walked around. Sat down again.

Still no Wicksell.

Suddenly — a voice in his ear.

“Edwards!” Wicksell sounded no calmer. “I had Mr. Science Fiction Writer bring the TV in. And the door’s locked and bolted again, so don’t go getting any ideas.”

Ted Dawson — S-Man
.

“Good.” Vince spoke easily, as if the last five minutes hadn’t made his gut churn. “As soon as you get it turned on, let me know. I’ll proceed with the reporters.”

“You’re gonna screw us on that too, ain’t ya?”

“No. They’re going to read the document on air. Just like I got you the TV.”

“Oh yeah, they’ll read it. But there’ll be something in the background goin’ on. Something I don’t know.”

“There’s no hidden agenda. But we agreed not to move on this until you’re ready.”

“Brad!” Wicksell yelled. “Get the TV turned on!”

Vince tried to picture the hostages in Java Joint. Were they still at tables as Brittany had told him? What condition were they in? All this shouting, the gunshots — they had to be terrified. Did they even know the girls hadn’t been hurt?

“Let me tell you something, Edwards —
nobody’s
comin’ near this place again. Hear me? Not for
anything
.”

“All right, if that’s the way you want it.”

Wicksell growled in his throat. “It’s not all right. Nothing’s all right. I come to your town, ready to deal, and all you can do is
lie to me
.”

“No, I asked you at the very beginning if you wanted me to lie or tell the truth. You picked the truth. That’s what you’re getting.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Kent, I need you to trust me —”

“I already told you I
don’t
trust you.”

“As long —”

“You want me to shoot someone else, huh?”

“You know I don’t.”

“I think you do! Or maybe it’s what you
need
to show you I mean business.”

“Kent, listen to me.” Vince spoke slowly. “You and I can’t move forward as long as you’re threatening hostages. I’d rather focus on what you want me to do for you.”

“I want you to
shut up
, that’s what.”

Vince focused on his desk. Maybe the arrival of the judge and attorneys would help. When Wicksell heard all three men were meeting to discuss T.J.’s case, maybe he’d calm down.
Something
had to work.

“Edwards!”

“I’m here.”

“Just letting you know the TV’s on.”

Good. Something else for Wicksell to think about. Watching the airing of T.J.’s story would give him time to settle down.

“All right. I’ll contact the reporters, tell them to go ahead.” “They’d better make it good, Edwards. I mean
real
good. They don’t do my son’s words justice, a few of your friends are going to be sorry.”

The threats chewed Vince’s ears. He wouldn’t hesitate to go tactical if he had to, but the thought twisted his stomach. If he sent CRT storming in there, people would die. Maybe some of the hostages.

“I’ll contact them, but I need to see that you’re going to calm down first.”

“Don’t
tell
me what to do!”

“Kent, I cannot proceed as long as you’re threatening anyone in there with you.”

Wicksell snorted. “Like
you’re
making the rules.”

“You and I agreed to work this out. I’m carrying out my part. I have the reporters standing by. You need to do your part. Can you do that?”

“I
am
doing it.”

“Doing your part includes making no more threats.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. Just get the reporters on TV.”

Vince and Justin exchanged a glance. “All right, Kent. Don’t hang up. I’ll have someone here make the phone calls, and as soon as that’s done, I’ll let you know.”

“Make it fast.”

“I’ll work as quickly as possible. I’m going to put the phone down just a minute.”

Vince set the receiver on the desk and hurried out of the office. As he strode down the hall, he erased all tension from his face. No need for the girls to be any more frightened.

He stuck his head in the second office’s door, motioning to Roger. Larry sat at a desk, writing in the log. Dr. Hughes was examining Ali’s left ankle. Brittany waited with shoulders pulled in, clasped hands at her mouth. She glanced at Vince.

“You all right?”

She nodded.

He threw her a quick smile, then looked to Roger. “I need you to call those reporters, tell them we’re ready. Find out how long it’ll be, then let me know. We’ll need to stagger the times so Wicksell can watch both channels.”

“Will do.”

When he returned to his office, Justin shook his head. “More yelling going on in there.”

Vince snatched up his receiver. “Kent?” Wicksell was shouting obscenities, not directly into the phone. “Kent.”

The cursing broke off. “Yeah!” Kent’s tone seethed. “What d’ya want?”

“Just want to let you know we’re calling the reporters. I’ll have an update for you in a minute. Who are you yelling at?”

“Anybody. Everybody. What’s it to ya?”

Kent was pacing. Vince could tell by the way he breathed, the sound of hard footsteps.

“Is everyone all right in there?”

“
No one’s
all right in here; who do you want to hear about first?” Kent’s words pulsed. “My son, Brad, who
wasn’t even supposed to be here
, keeps trying to tell me what to do. He has his way, there’ll be a body out on the street in the next minute. Then there’s Mitch, suddenly all paranoid about somebody outside the windows ready to bust in. Making me downright nervous.”