Silent Justice (3 page)

“How is he?” Ben asked.

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The gaping hole and the blood-soaked shirt said more than enough.

Brunner was still breathing, but just barely. He was still bleeding, too.

The hostage negotiators had been working the cell phone doubletime, trying to get the man with the gun to allow a medic in to treat Brunner. No luck. Ben remembered attending a seminar with Mike Morelli where he had learned about the FBI’s four touchstones for successful hostage negotiation: honesty, conciliation, containment, and resolution. Unfortunately, even after ten hours, these negotiators couldn’t get past honesty. Their standard scripts weren’t working. They were trained to deal with men who were desperate—but still fundamentally rational. With this crazed paranoid, the standard operating procedures were useless.

More than once, Ben had managed to take a slow stroll behind the third tier of seats, glancing out the windows. He no longer saw the fleeting figures in green. But he was certain they were there. He thought he had heard a muffled drilling sound earlier; possibly they were poking a hole through one of the walls, making an opening for a fiber-optic camera, or even a high-powered rifle. Meanwhile, there were probably half a dozen sights trained on those rear windows, just waiting for the man to show himself. But the man with the shotgun stayed out of sight, safely tucked away on the lowest level of the classroom.

The students" spirits were dwindling. The attack on Brunner had sucked the life out of the best of them. Several simply lay prostrate, not moving, waiting for the end they feared was inevitable. Others were praying, had been praying nonstop for hours. And a few still managed to maintain a stiff upper lip. But Ben knew that was just for show. They couldn’t last forever. None of them.

Ben wiped his brow, then stared at the profuse sweat that dampened his hand. None of
us,
that is.

“Damn you! Damn you all! You will give me what I want!”

Ben watched in horror as their captor threw the cell phone across the room. It hit the wall, shattering into pieces. Apparently that wasn’t enough for him. He fired a shot after it, breaking the phone into still more pieces and leaving a sizable indentation in the wall.

“I know what you think!” the man shouted, to no one in particular. “You think you can cheat me and get away with it. But you can’t. You
can’t!
”

Another blast went into the ceiling, knocking out several panels and shattering a fluorescent light. Bits of glass and neon tubing flew across the room.

That’s it, Ben thought, biting down on his lower lip. What little hope we had was on the other end of that cell phone. And now even that is gone.

Ben walked down to the lowest level of the classroom, where Christina was huddled over Brunner’s agonized body. She had been nursing him since his injury, holding his hand, talking to him, trying to keep him alive.

“I know you’re in pain,” Ben heard her whisper to him. “I know it must be excruciating. But you’ve got to hold on. Please. Help is on its way.”

Ben placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “You’re worn out. Want me to spell you for a bit?”

“No. I’m fine.” She tossed her head back, trying to knock the hair out of her eyes, but the hair was wet with sweat and stuck tenaciously to her forehead and cheeks.

Ben reached down and brushed it back. “Don’t exhaust yourself.”

If she heard him, she gave no indication of it. Her eyes were focused on Brunner. “Don’t give up. Please don’t give up.”

But even as she said it, Brunner’s eyelids slowly closed.

“No!” Christina cried. “Please, no!”

Ben felt his teeth grinding together. This had gone on too long. He didn’t want anyone to get hurt—not even the man with the shotgun. But Brunner was fading fast—maybe gone already. If he didn’t get medical attention quickly, there would be no hope. And after Brunner, who would be next? One of the other students? Christina?

Ben closed his eyes, forming his resolve. If he started this, he would have to stick with it to the end—no matter what the consequences.

He made up his mind. “I’m leaving,” he said. His voice was oddly flat, but definitely audible.

The man with the shotgun looked up abruptly. “What?”

“I’m leaving.” Ben turned slowly and started toward the back of the classroom.

“Ben?” Christina said. “What are you doing?” I’m leaving.

Their captor raised his gun. “You’re not.”

“I am.” Ben continued moving, with the same slow but steady pace. “I’m leaving.”

“You’re not!” The man ran toward the first-tier table and cocked his shotgun. “I’ll stop you!”

“You can kill me,” Ben whispered eerily. “But you can’t stop me.” He reached the third level of the classroom, then stood on the tabletop, his back facing the windows.

“Don’t try to cheat me!” the man shouted. He jumped up on the first-tier table. “You can’t leave till I have what’s mine!”

“I can. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I will! I will stop you!” The man giant-stepped to the second-tier table-top. He and Ben were now barely three feet apart. “I’ll kill you!”

“No, you won’t. You’re not a killer. You’re just a poor pathetic wretch. I don’t know what happened to you. I know you lost something you cared about very much. I don’t know what it was, but I know it was something important to you. So important you think you have to get it back. You can’t go on without it.” Ben paused. “But you won’t get it by killing me. That’s why you won’t do it.”

“
I will!
” the man screamed, rushing forward. Ben grabbed the man’s free hand as soon as it came within reach and, heaving with all his strength, flipped the man backward. He thudded against the back wall, his head level with the back windows.

Two seconds was all the sharpshooters outside needed to identify their target and take action. Six high-powered bullets crashed through the glass. All of them hit their mark. The man with the shotgun fell, half on a chair, half on the floor. His blood-soaked head hit the desktop with a sickening thud.

Barely a second later, people began swarming through the front door of the classroom, paramedics at the forefront. They carefully rolled Brunner onto a stretcher and carried him to an ambulance waiting outside. Other medics began talking with and helping the students, gingerly escorting them to freedom.

After a few minutes had passed, a police sergeant approached Ben. “The man who held you hostage is dead.”

Ben nodded silently. He wasn’t surprised.

“Do you have any idea what it was he wanted?”

“No. But I know who you should ask. The Tiger. Professor Canino. That’s who the man came to see.”

The sergeant’s eyes widened slightly. “Haven’t you heard?” He shook his head. “No, of course you haven’t. You’ve been trapped in here for ten hours.”

“What?” Christina appeared behind him, listening intently. “What is it?” The sergeant turned slightly toward her. “We’ve been looking for Professor Canino since that lunatic first mentioned him. We can’t find him. He’s not in his office, he’s not at home. He’s not anywhere. He’s vanished. Without a trace.”

T
ONY MONTAGUE WATCHED THE
gaily colored hexagons swirling above his head like a kaleidoscopic whirlwind. A breeze rippled across his face, a pleasant refreshment in the midst of this 102-degree Oklahoma heat. The cool air allowed his brain to settle into a more tranquil, reserved state, like the nirvana that usually followed the second shot of tequila, except without the booze. He found himself mesmerized, hypnotized even, by the multicolored pageant. The red, the blue, the yellow, the speed, the repetition, the endless cycle, over and over again—all of it made him …

All of it made him sick, actually. Nauseated. Rarely had he managed to acquire motion sickness when he wasn’t moving, but that’s what was happening now.

“Are you going up?” He felt a slap on his shoulder and realized it was Bobby Hendricks, chief supervising accountant for his division. “The line is short.”

Tony shook his head. “I’m not much of one for Ferris wheels.”

Bobby smirked. “Getting too old, huh?”

“When I was six, I didn’t like Ferris wheels.”

“Then why did you come?”

Tony hesitated. He wasn’t sure he knew the answer to that question himself. Why had he come on this company outing, a bus ride down the turnpike to Frontier City? He hated amusement parks. He saw quite enough of his colleagues at the office, thank you, and he never socialized with them. So why was he here?

“I don’t know,” he said. “Guess I thought if I cozied up to the boss, I might get a little more than the usual six percent annual raise.”

Bobby laughed, then slapped him again on the shoulder. “You were wrong. So, are you coming or not?”

“Not.” He watched as Bobby and some of the other faces from the office raced toward the gigantic spinning contraption. He had to get away from here, and quick. It was making him ill. The Ferris wheel—and everything else. Everything about this. Everything about his life. Everything.

Tony spotted her near the concession stand—the Double D Cowpoke Corral, to be precise. He’d gone in to get a Coke to settle his stomach. She was sitting at one of the picnic tables nursing some kind of drink. She was tall and thin and looked to him like someone you’d expect to see smiling down from the cover of
Elle
magazine. But there she was, sitting at a chipped and faded picnic table at Frontier City—alone.

He knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t help himself. Maybe it was the intoxicating swirl of the Ferris wheel still working on his brain, undermining his common sense. Maybe it was the sad truth that he had nothing to lose, because his present life was so empty. Whatever the cause, he found himself walking toward her, eventually taking a seat on the opposite side of her table.

To his surprise, she did not appear annoyed. Not particularly pleased, but not annoyed, either.

“Waiting for someone?” he asked.

Her head turned slowly toward his, but her eyes did not leave her cup. “No. Why?”

“I—thought maybe you were waiting for your kids.”

“No. I don’t have children.”

“Boyfriend?”

“No.”

“You’re here … by yourself?”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“No. I just …” He shifted awkwardly, knocking into his Coke in the process. He caught it at the last possible moment before it spilled. He felt like an idiot. Who did he think he was? Casanova? Casanova was never such a klutz. “Most people don’t come to amusement parks alone.”

Her eyes rose slightly. “Are you here alone?”

“No. Well … no. Feels like it, though.”

She responded with a barely perceptible nod. “I just wanted to be someplace where … where people are happy.”

Tony fell silent. He didn’t understand. And then again, he did.

“Where will you go next?” he asked.

Her eyes were strangely vacant. “I don’t know. I have no idea.”

He stretched his arm impulsively across the table. “You should come back with me.”

Again he feared she would be annoyed, but she wasn’t. A tiny smile played on her lips. For the first time, her eyes met his. “Is that so?”

“Yes. Come with me. Please.”

“Why should I?”

“I’d make you happy. I want to make you happy.”

“Where would we go? Another amusement park?”

“No. This is no place for someone like you. A woman like you—you deserve to be … I don’t know. You deserve to be on some island in the South Pacific, relaxing on a lounge chair on the beach, maybe a couple of servants to bring you drinks served in the shell of a coconut.”

Her smile increased. “My, my. You do think big, don’t you?”

“Oh, I’ve barely begun. After you spend a leisurely afternoon on the beach, you retire to our beach house—no, our hacienda. A big spread, with fountains, and an Olympic-size pool, and … and … our own personal tennis court. Ours would be the biggest spread on the island. In fact, I think we’d own the island.”

“Stop me if I’m wrong, but this fantasy you’re spinning might be somewhat expensive. Should I assume you’re a billionaire?”

“Well …”

“What do you do for a living?”

He stared into her dark hazel eyes. Somehow, he couldn’t lie to this woman. It would be wrong. Worse than wrong—it would be … like a sin. “I work for a big corporation not far from Tulsa. I’m an accountant.”

“That doesn’t sound like a job that brings in private South Sea island-type income.”

“No, it isn’t.” A shadow fell over his face. “But I know where I could get money. A lot of money.”

“Oh?” Her eyes widened, large and watery. “Then why haven’t you?”

“I don’t know. I suppose … I never had any reason to. Before now.”

She looked at him carefully. His hand was touching hers now, just barely. But she did not move away. “Why would you do this for me? You don’t know anything about me.”

“I do. I mean, I don’t, but …” He gazed into her lovely endless eyes. “I know enough. I know you lost something you cared about very much. Or someone. I don’t know who or what it was, but I know it was important to you, so important you feel like you can’t go on without it.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “But you can.
We
can.”

Her fingers tightened around his hand, like a drowning person gasping for air. “I wish I could believe you.”

“You can,” he said, and he was never so sure of anything in his entire life. “You can.”

“
BRACE YOURSELVES!
” the bus driver shouted.

Tony lurched forward, trying to see what was happening. He was sitting in the back, but he could still observe the oncoming headlights whiting out the windshield. The bus began to skid, and it seemed like it skidded forever, on and on …

Until they crashed. The impact flung Tony forward, almost over the next row of seats. His head banged down on the hard plastic seat back, cutting a deep gash across his forehead. Backpacks, cups, broken glass flew everywhere. The screams from his fellow passengers pierced his ears.

And the bus was still moving. Not forward this time, but sideways, teetering, losing its grip on the highway.