Sarah Armstrong - 01 - Singularity (33 page)

Apparently giving up, Gabriel walked away.

Moments later, Jim drew our attention back to the desk where the computer operator and an assistant were putting the finishing touches on a schematic of the room.

“This is the way the inside lays out. You’ve got the telescope in the center. One hostage is tied to the stepladder attached to it; the other two are in the cage at the southeast corner,” the technician explained. “Now, lining the north and east walls are desks, computers, and some photographic equipment. The room’s only telephone is in the northwest corner.”

“Have we found any weapons?” Jim asked. Then, turning to me, he added, “What does this guy use?”

“His preferred weapon is a hunting knife,” I said, trying not to think about how the hostages they referred to were people I loved. “When he takes the knife out, that’s an indication that he’s getting ready…”

My voice faltered and David jumped in. “That’s an indication he’s getting ready to act,” he said. “But he has used a gun. In the Galveston double murder. So he’s not averse to changing his MO.”

“We may have a gun over here. We can see something on top of this desk, near the telephone,” the technician said, pointing to a corner of the diagram opposite the door. “It looks like a semiautomatic pistol.”

“No knife?” Jim asked.

“Haven’t seen one yet.”

“He’d have it close to him,” I explained, working hard to get the words out. “Maybe even on him. It has a special significance for him.”

David slipped his arm around my shoulders, and I momentarily thought about how easy it would be to just let go, to fall apart. Behind me I could hear Strings’s voice coming over the speakers.

“My dad’s a pastor in a church, and he says you’ve got God all wrong,” he lectured. “My dad says God doesn’t send people out to kill other people. And those weren’t bad people you killed. That woman even had little kids.”

“I told you to shut up,” Gabriel yelled, seething. In an instant, he’d grabbed a computer keyboard, yanked it loose, and flung it toward Mom and Strings, where it smashed against the metal locker and shattered.

“Children, that’s enough,” Mom warned, clearly terrified. “Let’s not upset Mr. Gabriel anymore.”

On the screen, Gabriel checked his watch. I looked down at mine. We now had exactly twelve minutes.

“We need to set a charge, right here,” Jim said, drawing my attention from the computer screen back to the schematic of the observatory. He was pointing at the northwest corner. “An explosion with enough force to blow a hole through the concrete block.”

“Why there?” Dr. Mayer asked.

“Because that’s the farthest distance from the hostages. That’s the safest point, and that’s where—”

“I’m sorry, but you can’t do that,” Dr. Mayer insisted. “Captain Perkins, you’ll have to find another place for your explosion.”

“What’s wrong?” I demanded. “We’re running out of time.”

“There’s a lab underneath that section of the observatory that stores radioactive material. A colleague of mine has been doing some rather exciting research on, well, you don’t need to know all that,” the professor remarked. “The impact of an explosion directly overhead could crack the containment unit and release the radioactivity into the air.”

“What are we talking about here?” I demanded. “How much radioactivity?”

“We’re not talking Chernobyl, but we’re talking enough to make a lot of people very sick, anyone within a half-mile of this building, including the hostages and your own officers,” he said, looking again toward Jim. “There has to be another way.”

“That’s our best chance, the least likely location to endanger the hostages, plus…” said Jim.

“Can we move this radioactive material you’re talking about?” I asked the professor.

“Well, we’d have to bring up a hand truck and some equipment. It would take a little while.”

“How long?”

“Ten minutes.”

“We don’t have ten minutes—can you do it in five?” I demanded.

“Maybe…”

“Can we spare that much time?” I asked Jim.

“Barely,” he answered.

“Get started, Professor,” I ordered.

The old man turned toward his lab assistant, who’d been leaning against the door frame listening. “Jerome, get it done, now. Don’t wait for maintenance. Do it yourself.”

“Martinez, pull some men to assist,” Jim shouted toward one of his officers. “And get the explosives team working on setting the charge.”

“I’ll help with the hand truck,” Detective Nelson offered.

Jim looked at me and I nodded. “Sure,” I said. “Thanks.”

Nelson and the other men ran out, and I turned back to Jim to ask, “How do we keep Gabriel from killing everyone when he realizes we’re forcing entry?”

“That’s what I was trying to explain. We lure him over here,” he said, pointing to the diagram and again indicating the observatory’s northwest corner. “Close to the site of the charge. If we set up the explosion correctly, we should be able to direct the force toward him. It will be enough to at least stun him, if not injure him. There’s a possibility, depending on his distance from the wall at the moment of impact, that the explosion could even kill him. The charge goes off and four of my men will immediately enter through the opening in the wall, find Gabriel, and secure the safety of the hostages.”

“This all sounds fine, but how do we get Gabriel to cooperate?” David asked.

“We…”

“The telephone,” I said, interrupting Jim. “I call him on the observatory telephone.”

“Yes. That’s what I was trying to explain to you. That’s where the telephone’s located, hardwired into the wall,” said Jim. “We’ll land the helicopter outside on the grass, where he can see it. Then we’ll have the decoy run toward the building. When the phone rings, he’ll assume it’s Sarah, that she’s just arrived and needs to talk to him about letting her into the observatory. While he’s in position, at the desk, we set off the charge.”

“What if the phone rings and he doesn’t pick it up?” David asked.

“Then, we detonate anyway and hope we get to him before he has time to hurt Mrs. Potts and the children,” Jim said.

“If this doesn’t come together in time, Jim, if everything’s not in place in nine minutes,” I said, glancing down at my watch, “I want it
understood that I’m doing what this guy wants, I’m going in, with or without your men.”

“Sarah, you can’t…”

“Jim, there’s no argument, that’s—”

“I’m not sure you have even that much time, Lieutenant. You may have a complication,” Dr. Mayer interrupted, a look of deep concern on his face as he stared at the laptop screen.

“What?” Jim asked.

“Look,” he said.

In the observatory, Mom and Strings remained silent in their storage-locker prison, as Gabriel paced back and forth in front of the telescope, staring up toward the skies.
He’s looking for the helicopter, for me
, I thought.
He’s eager for me to arrive
. He glanced again at his watch. Then I saw him slip a hand inside his jacket and run it toward the small of his back.

“He’s checking for his knife,” I said, with a shudder. “He’s thinking about what he’s going to…”

“Yes, I suppose he is,” said the professor. “But there’s something else. Look again.”

I saw nothing, except that for some reason, the picture was growing brighter. “Did he turn on a light?” I asked.

“That’s the afternoon sun beginning to line up with the aperture in the dome,” explained Dr. Mayer. “But that’s not all I’m talking about. Look at your daughter.”

There, toward the center of the screen, Maggie could be seen, still tied to the stepladder. But something was different. She’d shifted her weight to one side and leaned backward, toward the pedestal that supported the telescope. Somehow she’d worked one hand free, and she held a rectangular object, the size of a pocket calculator, attached to the base of the telescope. She was pushing buttons.

“What’s she doing?” I asked.

“Captain Perkins, I suggest you get your men ready as quickly as possible,” Dr Mayer said to Jim. “If I’m right about the path of the sun this time of year, and I believe I am, in about six minutes, you’re going to have chaos inside that observatory.”

E
xactly four minutes later, the last details were falling into place. Officer Larson, Jerome the lab assistant, Detective Nelson, and a handful of others had maneuvered a large lead container on a hand truck to the other side of the building, removing the complication of the radioactive materials. The explosives were in position, taped to the observatory wall. Two of Jim’s best men waited twenty feet away, around a corner and protected from the brunt of the blast, ready to enter. The size of the explosion, according to the team’s expert, was more than ample to blow a door-size hole through the cement block wall.

David and I stood behind the SWAT officers, next in line to follow them in. I’d wanted to go in first, but Jim insisted he wanted his men in the lead, insurance in case Gabriel survived the blast. Standing behind me, Nelson waited with the second wave, four officers who’d enter once the smoke began to clear. Nearby Jim and the captain monitored the activities inside the observatory on the laptop. Occasionally, I glanced at the screen. Gabriel was
growing impatient, pacing, no doubt anticipating the minutest details of what he believed lay ahead, how he would punish and then kill me.

To my great relief, his obsession with me distracted him from Mom and the children. But I wasn’t fooled into believing that his disinterest suggested any hope that he might agree to set them free. They were part of his game now. We all were.

With her captor preoccupied, Maggie cautiously proceeded with her own plan. As we watched on the computer screen, she repositioned the telescope toward the opening in the dome. Earlier, Dr. Mayer explained that he believed she was easing the barrel into position to aim the lens directly at the sun.

“That girl of yours is bright. Although the telescope may not appear flammable, many of its components will burn. In a matter of seconds, the sunlight will smolder the epoxy anchoring the mirrors. As the heat builds, the vinyl housing will ignite,” he said. “We’ll have flames. At the very least, the place will fill with a thick smoke and trigger the fire alarms throughout the entire building.”

“Maggie’s had experience,” I told him. “Her first telescope caught fire when she took the shaded lens off and left it pointed at the sun.”

“Ah,” the professor said.

We had no way to communicate with Maggie, to let her know we were waiting just outside. Jim, unhappy with the complication of a fire, was determined to use the turn of events to our advantage, timing the explosion to coincide with the fire alarm. “The bastard won’t know what’s hit him,” he said. “If we’re lucky, it’ll happen so fast, he won’t have time to reach for that gun.”

Still, Jim worried about the diminished visibility inside the observatory. He’d given strict orders; no one was to fire until sure of the
target. In the smoke, it would be easy to mistakenly kill another officer or one of the hostages.

Suddenly, overhead, we heard the beating of helicopter blades against the stagnant late-afternoon air. Jim had planned every detail meticulously, including ordering the pilot to line up the ‘copter with the opening in the observatory aperture, ensuring that Gabriel would see it. Inside, a policewoman, wearing a dark blond wig, played me. From a distance, I thought, even a friend could be fooled by the resemblance.

As soon as the ‘copter landed in a grassy courtyard, the decoy jumped out and ran toward the building, holding a cell phone to her ear, and Jim motioned in my direction. I hit the send button on my cell phone and heard the observatory phone ring, once, twice, three times. No answer.

“Let it ring,” Jim whispered.

I waited, still no answer.

On the computer screen, Gabriel held Mom’s cell phone, obviously wondering why I would call the observatory instead. He hit a button. But we’d already planned for that reaction. The cell phone wasn’t functioning. David had contacted the company and had its access turned off. I let the observatory phone continue ringing until Gabriel finally picked up.

“I’m on my way. I should be there in just a minute. I’m waiting for the elevator,” I said. “When will you let Mom and the children go?”

“What happened to your mother’s phone?” Gabriel demanded.

“I don’t know. It’s not working,” I said. “How will you let me in and release Mom and the kids?”

“When you come into the observatory, I’ll let them go,” he said. “You’re going to have to trust me.”

On the computer screen, a thin cloud of smoke trailed from the
telescope’s base. Jim motioned to the officer in charge of the detonation to get ready.

Sure
, I thought.
Trust you?
But I answered, “That sounds fine. Just stay on the telephone and I’ll let you know when I’m at the door. Do you want me to knock when I get there? Are you ready to let me in?”

“Yes,” Gabriel said. “Yes, I’m ready. Just knock and—”

At that moment, the telescope erupted in flames and the shrill cry of the fire alarm sounded throughout the building. Jim signaled and instantaneously the explosion tore through the wall, hurling a thick cloud of debris. The telephone went dead.

“God, please,” I whispered. “Please protect them.”

Jim’s officers stampeded through the jagged gap in the wall, with David and me following. Inside, the dust and rubble from the explosion—combined with the thick, black, sooty smoke from the telescope—burned my eyes and nostrils. One SWAT officer searched for Gabriel under the debris, while the others fanned out into the room, disappearing in the dense smoke and dust. Meanwhile, David moved in with a fire extinguisher, and I felt the whoosh of the carbon dioxide rush past me, as I groped along the wall. I walked toward the heat of the burning telescope, thinking only of finding Maggie and the others alive. Finally, I bumped into a steel frame, the telescope’s stepladder. Empty.

He has Maggie? Oh, God, no
.

Fighting back utter panic, I continued feeling my way, searching for Mom and Strings. I knew I’d reached my destination when my hands brushed the wire grid of the locker. I worked my way toward the door and found someone struggling to open it. I moved back, lifted my gun, and pointed it at the figure, still hidden in the smoky haze.