Point of No Return (17 page)

The screen was focused on Kira, and more

specifically, his hands tied behind his back. Everyone in the

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room watched in silence. The woman, whose name I still didn't know, pointed to the screen. "See that?"

Oh, my God.

"Berkman!" I yelled, and my boss appeared in the door a second later. "I need an ASL translator. Now!" I turned to the video tech. "I want all footage on Kira and his hands, from the very beginning."

"What is it?" Mitch asked me, suddenly beside me.

"He's signing," I told everyone in the room. "He's trying to tell us something using sign language."

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Chapter 16

Just as he said, Tomic appeared on screen ten

minutes later. He spoke to Berkman and wanted to know where we were.

"They've gone to escort your brother here," our boss lied. We were really in the next room, watching footage of Kira.

The sign language translator explained whatever Kira was trying to tell us wasn't clear. From his side-on position, we could only see one hand, and being bound behind his back, his hand movement for signing was severely restricted.

We watched and re-watched, trying to piece

together the puzzle. The first thing we could make out was when Kira held out three fingers, then did what looked like the sign for talking. It was quick, and we weren't even sure if we were seeing the whole message, or just a part of it, or if he was using full words or spelling.

Kurt held up his hands, gestured what looked like two birds squawking and groaned in frustration. "What does that mean?"

The translator shook her head. "With the hands held down low, I'm not sure. But this," she said, mimicking the

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hand action and holding her hand up to her forehead,

"means male."

Males. And three fingers. "Three males," I repeated.

"There's three men."

The translator nodded and smiled. "I think so."

There wasn't much else to see, given that Tomic stood in the way, or we couldn't see Kira's hands clearly, or he was being hit. But the next time we could see him was after a particularly bad beating, his hands were shaking, but we could see what he was signing.

Kira formed his hand with his thumb, forefinger, and pinky extended out and his middle and ring finger folded in.

"What does that mean?" Mitch asked.

The translator looked at me, but I was the one who answered. My voice was quiet and I was sure they heard my heart break. "That's the sign for
I love you
."

Mitch's eyes softened, but before he could say anything, the translator called out, "Rewind that." She walked up close to the screen and pointed to where Kira curled his forefinger over, making a hook, but we lost visual when Tomic moved in front of him.

I stared at the translator. "What does that mean?"

She shook her head and shrugged in answer.

Fuck.

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Tomic appeared on the live-feed, being fed bullshit by Berkman and two negotiators, while we watched from the next room. He was getting angrier and more frustrated that he'd not seen his brother, and when the telecast was cut a little short, Berkman scrubbed his hands over his face.

He walked out toward us, his expression grave.

"He's running out of patience, and we're running out of time." He looked at the four of us. "We need to piece this together now. Tell me what we know."

"There's three men."

"They're within a fifteen-mile radius of here."

"Tomic's keeping all telecasts under two minutes?"

"Why?" Berkman asked.

"We're not sure," Kurt said.

Berkman frowned. "What happens every two

minutes that he doesn't want us to know?"

"Subway?" I offered.

"Airport?" Mitch said.

"Airport…" the translator repeated. "Airport! Of course! This—" She held up her hands in the 'I love you'

sign. "—means I love you when the hand is facing forward.

But this," she said, pushing her hand facing down, outward from her chest, "means airplane."

The hairs on my neck stood on end.

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"And this," she said excitedly, pointing to the screen, paused on footage of Kira's hooked finger, "if he could use both hands and curl one finger over the other, it means coat hanger."

"Coat hanger?" Berkman repeated disbelievingly.

Oh, my God.

"Not coat hanger," I told them. "
Plane hangar
."

"They're in a plane hangar," Mitch said, racing over to the map of the city.

Berkman grinned at me. "Your boy's one smart cookie."

The translator urged the video tech to replay the second video we saw. "At the very end of the feed," she said. We watched as the footage rolled. "There!"

It was like Kira was flinching his hand, not signing anything. The footage paused to show as brief as it was, and the angle wasn't great, but he was pointing his index finger and thumb, then in slow motion, we watched as his hand closed in a fist before Tomic cut the feed.

"LA," the translator cried. She spun to look at us.

"It's fast and the angle is wrong, but I think that's an L, and then an A."

"They're in a plane hangar in LA?"

"No," the translator shook her head. "He didn't finish. I'd bet money the next letter was an X."

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"LAX," I put it together. "They're in a plane hangar at LAX."

* * * *

The entire floor flew into action. The four of us were on our feet, checking our guns, getting ready.

"Detectives," the film tech called out from across the room. "Tomic's back on screen. Detective Elliott, he's asking for you."

Knowing that could never be good, I walked

hesitantly back to the office with a new sense of dread.

Tomic was on screen alright. And so was Kira.

There were two thugs holding him. Kira was on his knees in front of a small table with his hands stretched out in front of him, tied to the table. He had blood dripping freely from the cut above his eye, his jaw looked bruised, and he was covered in a sheen of sweat.

He looked scared. Resigned.

It took everything in me, not to reach out and touch the screen.

"Detective Elliot," he addressed me. "There comes a time we reach the point of no return, when you can't go back. Don't you agree?"

"What are you talking about?"

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"Your boyfriend's been misbehaving," Tomic said with an eerie calm. "Trying to give hand signals when I wasn't looking, apparently. One of my men saw him."

Oh Jesus, no.

"I really was hoping we could get through this ordeal without violence," he shook his head and clucked his tongue. "But I really need to make sure your boyfriend doesn't do that again," Tomic said, and my blood ran cold.

One thug pulled Kira's head back by his hair, and Tomic grabbed his face. "Can't talk with your hands if I break your arms, can you?"

Like the world disappeared, all I could see was Kira. I knew Berkman was yelling, pleading, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. I couldn't hear anything.

I couldn't see anything except how Kira's eyes closed as Tomic lifted a metal rod over his head, swinging it down onto Kira's outstretched forearms.

I heard the sickening noise—a wet snap and a

muffled scream.

I could feel hands on me, grabbing, holding me back from Tomic's smiling face on the screen. "If I don't see my brother in ten minutes, I'll start breaking other parts."

"You'll be dead in ten minutes!" I screamed at him, but the screen just went black.

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My world went dark.

I didn't remember shoving a table across the floor or throwing a chair at the wall. But when Mitch grabbed me, holding me back, I saw the room around me was trashed, and men were staring at me, with fear and pity in their eyes.

I could feel Mitch's hands on me as the weight of what just happened settled over me. The same hands that held me back were now holding me up.

I looked at Mitch and tried to tell him, but it only came out as a whisper. "I want to kill him."

He looked at me, and his eyes were fierce. He

nodded. "Let's go."

"Boys," Berkman said flatly. He looked at the four of us, his sympathetic eyes settled on me. "SWAT's been briefed. You boys can't go in there."

Our response was immediate and in complete

unison. There was no way we were
not
going. There was no way we could
not
be there when this went down. The four of us faced him down.

Berkman put his hands up, palms forward. "Right,"

he sighed. "But we don't go in. We wait and watch until the site is cleared and the hostages are safe. Understood?"

* * * *

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The van ride to LAX was the longest five minutes of my life. The five of us— Berkman refused to let us go alone—sat with wide eyes and in complete silence.

The airport was business as usual, but we snuck through the commercial gates normally used by transport, trucks and tankers. The airport officials reported dim lights in the old hangars now used for storage but had no record of registered users. Intel confirmed the suspicious activity, so we knew exactly where we were headed.

The van pulled up a few warehouses over, and we waited.

Lining one wall of the van was a row of

surveillance screens, and we watched as the heavily cloaked, heavily armed tactical response team got ready to move in.

No one made eye contact. No one made a sound.

It was as though we were watching something else.

It was surreal. Horrific. As if all the years of training we'd had, to be detached and calculating, meant nothing. And we sat with our hearts in our mouths as we watched the SWAT

boys move in. Like black smoke, they crept around the building, surrounding each point of entry, and when we were given our signal, we slipped out of the van.

We ran quietly to the side of the hangar, and as hard as it was, knowing they were just yards away, we waited.

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When we were in position, hidden in the shadows, the SWAT team moved in.

We'd done this a hundred times, it was standard procedure. Protocol.

I'd never been so scared in my entire life. It had only been seconds, barely enough time to think. My heartbeat measured each moment, hammering triple time.

A shrill scream cut the darkened night, and the men beside me jumped. It was a woman's scream, and I instinctively grabbed Mitch's arm. When gunshots rang out, all four of us panicked and started to move.

Berkman put up his hand. "Not yet."

Two more shots were fired, and I thought my heart would burst. Fear made it impossible to breathe.

After what felt like an eternity, Berkman's radio crackled loud in the silence. We had the all clear to move.

My body shot forward without conscious decision to do so. Kurt pulled the door open, and without knowing what would meet us, we raced inside.

Adjusting to the light, I scanned the large room, and when my eyes trained in on Kira, I ran. I didn't care that there were other cops or the SWAT team guys. I didn't even think.

Kira was sitting on the floor, his bound feet out in front of him, his arms against his chest, and I almost

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tackled him. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him against me, mindful of his left arm. It was obviously broken—there was a lined dent above his wrist, and it was going purple. He slumped against me with relief and exhaustion.

I held him. I just held him, feeling him in my arms, his familiar body, the warmth of his skin. I kissed the side of his neck, the side of his head, all the while telling him he was okay. He was okay. I had him. He was safe.

Pulling his face into my hands, I looked him over, his bruised and bloodied, beautiful face. I slowly peeled the tape off his mouth, and he took sudden, deep breaths. I kissed his face, his hair, telling him it was all over.

I sat my ass on the floor and pulled him into my lap.

I didn't want to let him go. I looked around then, at the other three guys, all in a similar position on the floor as me.

They were doing the exact same thing; whispering, holding, rocking. I knew they saw me hold Kira, and kiss him, and I knew they heard me tell him I loved him.

After years of hiding, of trying to keep my life a secret, I simply didn't care.

I now knew what really mattered. When the bullshit was stripped away, I could see with perfect vision what really mattered. So I held him a little tighter and kissed the side of his head again.

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What happened after that was a bit of a blur.

I saw the bodies of three men. I remembered being disappointed that Tomic was dead. I wanted to kill him myself. I saw Tomic's lifeless body and thought this wasn't anywhere near as satisfying as it should have been.

The scene around us was filled with uniforms and noise with the four of us cops huddled, cradling our lovers, while people worked around us.

We rode in the back of the ambulance with the

paramedics and arriving at the hospital, but it was all in slow motion and soundless, and I felt heavy and numb.