Once inside the hotel, Rafe kept to the periphery of the lobby, hugging the walls and darting from hiding place to hiding place as much as was possible. A tarnished, dusty chandelier hung from the high ceiling and yellowing sheets draped the upholstered furniture. Myriad footprints had disturbed the layer of dirt on the marble floor. To his relief, Thor’s paws had also left their marks.
Rafe was about to break cover and circle the base of the spiral staircase to look for the room Hannah had described via the radio Thor carried. A rumble of voices stopped him. Crouching behind a settee he listened intently.
Someone muttered a curse. “He has to be out of his mind.”
Another man answered. “Who cares as long as we’re on his good side. Just don’t make a mistake and you’ll be fine.”
“Mistakes? Deuce is the one making those. I can’t believe he didn’t shoot that woman and her dog the minute he saw them.”
A shiver snaked up Rafe’s spine and made the hair at the nape of his neck prickle. Any mention of a woman with a dog had to be Hannah and Thor. They’re still alive!
“Didn’t you hear what the boss said? He’s saving them for later. There’s nothin’ like watchin’ somebody get shot to make all the others behave better.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. It just seems dumb to put her in with our cargo, if you get my drift.”
“She wasn’t armed. She can’t cause any trouble that we can’t handle.”
“What about the chopper. Somebody took that out.”
“No sweat. The boss has another one coming. Boats, too. We’ll be heading for warm, sandy beaches and palm trees by tonight. You’ll see.”
“Yeah, well, in the meantime, what’re we supposed to do with the driver who messed up our getaway bird?”
“That was just some old lady. They’re bringin’ her in. Nothin’ to worry about.”
Every muscle in Rafe’s body was taut, his heart racing, his stomach clenching almost as tightly as his fists. They had captured Lucy, which sounded good only because it meant she was also alive and presumably mobile. He waited, ready to intervene if necessary and praying he wouldn’t have to show himself until he was in a better position to gain control.
Two other thugs appeared at the door, supporting the older woman between them. She was acting groggy and disoriented but Rafe suspected a ruse on her part. The gang had already written her off as being no threat. Continuing to act that way was definitely a ploy the former spy would use.
Assessing Lucy’s condition as the trio passed, Rafe saw her eyes open briefly and scan the lobby. That was enough to reassure him she was faking. Chances were she hadn’t made it out of the SUV with her gun, but at least he now had a second ally inside the hotel. Hopefully, she had relayed the information they’d heard over the radio to the main task force. When they finally arrived they’d need to know where the hostages were being kept and how big a force was needed to free them.
Deuce Fleming appeared at the top of the staircase and started down. He laughed. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Granny, herself. She’s got more guts than I thought.”
One of the men supporting her asked, “What you want we should do with her?”
“Throw her in with the others. It’ll be a lesson to them.”
Rafe could not have made a more advantageous choice if Fleming had consulted him. Putting Lucy and Hannah together was akin to mixing gasoline and matches. He was positive they would do whatever they could to delay the departure of the human trafficking victims until backup arrived. Lucy had begun active interference when she’d eliminated the first helicopter. No matter what came next, those two extraordinary women would hinder Fleming. Once the gang’s escape plans were carried out and they were airborne, stopping them would be next to impossible.
Wild notions of Hannah and Lucy trying to hijack Fleming’s plane gave Rafe the shivers. This operation must never be allowed to get that far. Not if he expected to save all those kidnap victims as well as the spunky former spy and the woman he... Rafe held his breath. The woman he what? Admired? Yes, and more...
Unwelcome feelings of both joy and dread filled him. Circumstances had apparently acted as a catalyst and had influenced him beyond belief. Like it or not, he was definitely falling in love with Hannah Lassiter. What a disaster.
Hannah had herded the others away from the doors and into a back corner of the ballroom, stationing herself and Thor between the victims and the door she had entered. When it opened again and someone shoved a small figure through, she knew at a glance who it was. The others, however, did not so they shrank back as the door slammed shut again. Some were weeping. Some acted so depressed Hannah wasn’t sure she could motivate them enough to engineer a mass exodus.
“Gram!” Thor followed her as she ran to Lucy, fell to her knees and embraced her.
The older woman barely moved until she’d scanned the room. Then she took a shaky breath and pressed a hand to her ribs. “Help me up.”
Leaning on Hannah’s arm she gave a muffled groan, dusted off her dark clothing and cautiously stretched sore muscles before cracking a smile. “Feels worse than it looks.”
“But you’re okay?” Hannah asked.
“I will be. Don’t worry. I relayed your info to the task force just before I took out the chopper.”
“Good. I was hoping the bug was working. Now what?”
“Now, we wait.”
Hannah scowled. “I’m not convinced we’ll have enough time to get away if we’re too passive.”
“Why? What else have you heard?”
“Plenty. The plans to move out keep changing.” She gestured at the group behind her. “They tell me the kidnappers have gotten so used to having them around they’ve started talking freely in front of them. Fleming plans to gather everyone at a private airfield where he has a chartered plane waiting. Exactly where that is keeps changing so they can’t agree on that detail.”
“What about timing? You say it’s changing?” Lucy asked.
“Yes. We all thought he was going to leave tomorrow. Now, it’s supposed to happen today.”
“I take it the chopper was part of his escape plan.”
“Yes.” Hannah smiled. “He was so steamed about what you did, they could hear him hollering through the walls.”
“Good.” She grinned briefly before sobering. “I worry that you’re not taking this whole thing seriously enough. I’ve seen agents with too much confidence pay the ultimate price for that kind of blasé attitude. Don’t make that mistake, Hannah. Life doesn’t get more dangerous than this.”
“I know that, in an academic way. Without the experience you and Rafe have had, it’s really hard to believe any of this is actually happening to us.” Gesturing at the prisoners, she shook her head pensively. “I mean, look at all of them. It’s so sad to think about how many families are grieving.”
“Did you locate Kristy?”
“Yes.” Hannah pointed out a slim brunette standing off to the side and comforting a weeping blond teen. “That’s her.”
“She looks pretty levelheaded. Think we can count on her not falling apart in a crisis?”
“I do.”
“What about you?” Lucy asked, eyebrows raised. “How are you feeling? Steady? Strong?”
“I thought you wanted me to be worried,” Hannah said, half teasing, half serious. “Do you think Rafe is okay?”
“I do. These guys would be bragging if they’d taken him out.”
“I guess that’s comforting.” She stroked Thor’s broad forehead to help calm herself. Thinking about Rafe, worrying about his safety minute to minute, was bound to distract her and that wasn’t good. Not good at all. Gram was right, though. If they had harmed Rafe they’d be celebrating the defeat of an enemy whether they knew he was a cop or not.
She considered warning Kristy to keep that information to herself, then recalled the gang member who had tried to shoot poor Andy in his hospital room. Fleming was smart. He must have figured out which side Rafe was on long ago. Truth to tell, there probably wasn’t a lot that the clever criminal didn’t know. What he chose to do with that info, how he might use it, was the only real unknown.
That, and how she and Gram were going to shepherd this sad bunch of victims to safety without setting off World War III. If she let herself look at the big picture and take everything into account, she’d have to admit their chances were poor. Except, the good guys in the white hats were supposed to win, weren’t they? Wasn’t that how such stories ended?
Trying to calm her turbulent thoughts and clear her head of unnecessary concerns, Hannah took a deep breath and released it slowly, then another. And another. By that time she had concluded that God would not have put her into such an untenable situation if He didn’t intend to get her out of it.
“If His will is really how I got here,” she murmured, recalling the poor decisions that had led to the jailbreak in the first place. Believers had free will. They could make all the mistakes they wanted in spite of prior commitments to their faith. Surrendering to Him didn’t mean they would never face hardships. It did, however, promise that they would never have to do so alone. Forgiveness waited for anyone who asked for it, for anyone who realized they had done wrong and admitted it. Even Deuce Fleming, her heart suddenly insisted.
Hannah refused to listen. Surely there were some sins, some crimes, which were beyond forgiveness. Look at all the terrible suffering that man had caused and was still causing.
She was not about to forgive a man who had harmed so many innocents, ruined so many lives, and left hope shredded and trampled in his wake.
If evil had a face it was Deuce Fleming’s.
Rafe was essentially trapped in the lobby. Fleming had gone back upstairs but his men kept coming and going, even posting an armed guard just outside the front door. He shifted as he crouched to keep up circulation in his legs. Ambient noise as the gang prepared to travel was to his advantage. Knowing how close they were to leaving, however, was more than unsettling. It was terrifying.
He’d overheard plans vital to an effective capture and would gladly have relayed them to the task force if he’d been alone. Stuck in the cavernous lobby he didn’t dare make any noise, let alone carry on a phone or radio conversation.
Seeing the door guard turn his back and pace away, Rafe decided to take a chance on changing positions. Nobody was currently on the stairs and he didn’t see other gang members loitering around the lobby at the moment so he slowly straightened, bracing himself on the back of the settee. He listened. There was muted conversation in the distance but nothing sounded close by.
Moving toward the rear of the room he ducked beneath the sweeping staircase. Beams of pink and orange sunlight filled with swirling dust particles cut across his path, reminding him of how little time he had left before night came.
Thanks to Lucy’s capture, he knew the prisoners were confined behind the double doors to his right. To his left lay an open corridor. He chose the latter, hoping and praying it would give him enough cover to safely report to the strike team by phone. Once he had done that and had learned how long it might be before backup arrived, he’d decide what to do about freeing the prisoners. About rescuing Hannah and the rest.
An acrid smell gave him pause. Gasoline? Yes, Rafe concluded. There was no reason for that to be kept inside, yet there was no doubt about the odor.
Following the fumes he opened a door marked Janitor, intending to duck out of sight and make his phone call. The smell became overwhelming. He looked down. Rows of gasoline-filled bottles had been rigged with wicks sticking out their necks, ready to be lit and thrown as weapons. He frowned. These men had plenty of armament. They didn’t need Molotov cocktails to defend themselves. So what were they planning to do with them? The only conclusion he could come to was to anticipate the total destruction of the old hotel by fire.
Coughing from the fumes in the closet he pulled out his phone, made the connection and began to report. “Yes, Colonel. That’s right. It looks as though they intend to set fire to this place when they leave. How long before you get here?”
“The bridge is clearing as we speak. Some of my people started the drive around so I don’t have a full team but we’re also pulling units from the Illinois side of the river.”
“What’s your ETA?”
“I should arrive within the next ninety minutes. We’ll stage away from the hotel until we have enough firepower to take the place by overwhelming force.”
Rafe felt sick. “A siege isn’t going to protect the hostages. If anything, it’ll get them killed.”
“I’ll try to talk Fleming down first. We’ve already cut off escape by land and I’m working on blockading the river.”
“There’s still the air to think about,” Rafe warned. “I told you what happened to the first chopper they brought in. I’ve since heard that they’ve got more than one. With all the flat fields around here they won’t have trouble finding a new place to land.”
“We’ll use drones to reconnoiter once we’re in position. Do what you can on your end to keep them from being shot down.”
“Copy.” He coughed more, smothering the sound with his sleeve. “I’ll try to check in again if I can find a secluded spot to call from. If you don’t hear from me, that won’t mean I’m out of commission, okay? According to what I’ve been hearing, the women and the dog are locked up with the other prisoners. I’m going to do my best to get them out of here before it’s too late.”
“Just don’t get yourself killed, Gavin.”
It seemed odd to hear his real name spoken when he’d been called Rafe for so long. Nevertheless, it was strangely comforting to hear his boss refer to him that way.
“From your lips to God’s ears,” he said, repeating a saying he’d heard Hannah use as he ended the conversation. That led him to add, “Please, Father. Help me help her and all of them.”
Resolved, he opened the closet door, checked the hallway and started out.
He’d barely gone ten paces when he turned back, reentered the closet and tipped every bottle on its side. It wasn’t much but who knew? It might actually help.