Working his way through the hotel on the main floor, Rafe managed to keep from being spotted. The last he’d seen of Fleming he’d been climbing the staircase, meaning he was likely still upstairs.
It occurred to Rafe that if he could actually capture the leader, the gang might surrender. Then again, they might not. Plus, he had Hannah and Lucy to worry about besides the original hostages. One man with one gun, namely himself, was not going to be able to control everybody. Period. He might be good, actually he was very good, but that didn’t make him omnipotent. Only God was that and judging by their present predicament, Rafe wasn’t convinced He was paying enough attention.
Looking back on the trials he and Hannah had shared, he did have to admit something awesome was happening. When she’d broadcast Kristy’s name over and over, as if they were already friends, he’d felt an enormous relief. A burden had accompanied that, of course. Now he knew for sure that Andy’s daughter was among the prisoners, meaning there was no margin for error. Truth to tell, there never was when he was on the job, even if a few mistakes did sneak past him from time to time.
The key to being fearless in the face of danger was total self-confidence. Doubting himself even a little was not a good sign. Not good at all. And doubting the sovereignty of God? Worse. Way worse. Rafe closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer for forgiveness. For strength of body and character. And for the innocent victims he and those in his profession had not been able to save in the past. Their numbers had to be staggering.
He had earlier muted the Bluetooth-like radio receiver stuck in his ear. Now that he was away from anyone else and able to listen without risk of being detected he reactivated the sound. Instead of the conversation he’d heard before there was shuffling and grunting and panting. Whispers were distorted by background noise. Oh, how he wished the connection was two-way so he could ask what was going on.
Breaking cover, he headed for the core of the hotel, the central ballroom. That was where Hannah had reported being held with the kidnap victims and that was where he’d seen them put Lucy. Since he had not heard or seen any mass movement of gang members or prisoners, they had to still be in there. What he’d do when and if he reached them was an unanswered question.
As he peered around a corner into a section of the lobby he noticed two armed men; a bulky one with a military buzz cut and another, shorter and slimmer, with a head of brown curls. They each had an ear pressed to massive oak doors and were arguing.
“I tell ya, I heard something,” Curls said.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re always hearing stuff that ain’t there.”
“We need to have a look.”
“Well, I’m not unlockin’ this door. If you want to do it and the boss blows a gasket, it’s all on you.”
Rafe watched Buzz Cut hand an ornate large antique key to his partner and back away. Curly holstered his gun then bent over the lock, apparently having trouble inserting the key.
“If I’d known you were gonna shake so bad I’d of done that myself,” the larger man said. “Hurry it up, will ya?”
Yes, please, Rafe thought. As soon as they opened that door he would know Hannah and Lucy and the others were all right and could proceed to locate Deuce so he’d be in position to detain him when the strike team was about to arrive. Forcing him to call off his men wasn’t the best plan Rafe had ever had, but given the situation he saw no alternatives.
Cursing, the short-haired thug shoved his own sidearm into its holster and wrested the key away. Unlocking the door he gave it a hard push, shouted to the slimmer man and they both disappeared through the doorway.
Rafe paused only a millisecond before sprinting across the lobby to the same door. Neither gang member noticed his entry. They were too busy fighting over which one was going to crawl through a small opening in a far wall.
The enormous room was empty except for the three of them.
“Hands in the air,” Rafe shouted. “Now.”
Buzz Cut started to go for his gun, then froze when he turned and saw Rafe pointing the Glock at him. Curls raised his hands first.
“On the floor,” Rafe ordered. “Both of you. Face down.” Crossing quickly he disarmed both men then used the handcuffs they were carrying to lock them in place, back-to-back. “You have the choice to keep quiet on your own or be knocked out.” He displayed the grip of one of the guns he’d taken off them. “Which will it be?”
“I’m not sayin’ a word,” Curly immediately offered.
His companion agreed with a grimace and a nod. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Okay. I’ll come back and see that neither of you ever talks again if you break your promise. Got that?”
“I said so, didn’t I? The boss is liable to do it for you if he thinks we let his merchandise get away.”
“That’s your problem,” Rafe said. “I’ll send somebody back for you once everything is under control.” He took a moment to look through the hole in the wall, saw nothing but a white-painted board blocking the other side, and tried to push it open. Since it didn’t budge he figured it was locked and left it as he’d found it.
“Who are you, anyway?” one of the men asked.
“Your worst enemy,” Rafe told him.
“Naw,” Buzz Cut argued. “Our worst enemy is Deuce Fleming.”
Enjoying his unexpected success Rafe cracked a smile. “Funny you should say that. He’s mine, too.”
Leaving them prostrate on the bare floor, Rafe gathered up their guns and started away.
“Hey. Where are you going?”
“Don’t worry, boys. I’ll lock you in and keep the key so you’ll be safe enough until this is all over.”
And just like that there were two less adversaries to worry about when the siege began, he mused, locking the room and pocketing the heavy brass key.
Stepping into a small alcove for privacy he opened his cell phone to check the schematics of the hotel that they’d been given. A kitchen and prep area lay on the other side of the opening he’d seen. Clearly, Hannah had found a way out and taken the other captives with her. For once he wished she hadn’t been clever enough to secure the second little door after passing through.
Then again, nothing indicated that she’d stayed where she’d landed. She was too smart for that. No, she’d have led the victims to someplace she felt was safe, meaning it was highly unlikely they were still gathered in the kitchen.
Nevertheless, he circled to one of the rear accesses and checked. Dust coated every surface except one section of stainless steel counter. That area showed overlapping foot and hand prints with places where bodies had landed and slid off. Rafe was elated. Hannah had done it. She’d freed the others just as he’d hoped and led them away. Good for her.
He was turning to leave to search for them when he decided to pause long enough to disturb the dust in other places and use a dry mop to obliterate any footprints on the dusty floor. If he could tell which way the group had gone, then so could Fleming’s cohorts.
By the time Rafe was finished, he’d left false trails to both outside exits and had swept the interior hallway. Then he backed away, dragging the dry mop behind him so whoever discovered his tracks wouldn’t be able to tell if he was coming or going.
Satisfied, he stuffed the mop into the janitor’s closet with the spilled gasoline and went looking for the victims. Pride in Hannah made him smile in spite of the tenuous situation. Intel had shown that the kidnapped women had been held at the hotel for days, yet it took Hannah Lassiter to find a way for them to escape. What an amazing person she was. When all this was over he was going to make sure she was recognized for her heroism.
Fond thoughts carried him further and he imagined being the one chosen to pin a medal on her or hand her a certificate for exceptional valor. His heart swelled with pride and affection. Awareness grew. If she had merely been lovely, as she certainly was, she would have been appealing. Knowing how brave and clever she was had taken his admiration to another level. He’d met and even dated pretty women in the past, yet none of them had impressed him this much. None had made his head spin and his heart race the way thinking of Hannah did.
Rafe paused, listening to his earpiece and wondering why everything seemed quiet. The next words he heard were so softly spoken he had to strain to make them out.
“Gram? Gram, can you make it?”
Whatever the answer was, the tiny radio pinned on Thor didn’t pick it up. Thankfully, he could hear Hannah say, “Come on. We’ll help you.” Then a pause and, “Hurry.”
Where were they? Had they left the building? Were they still inside, and if so, where?
The schematics on his cell phone showed the main staircase where he’d last seen Deuce. Looking carefully at details of the kitchen area he noted a narrow, closed-off stairway meant for staff use. If he was Hannah, that’s how he’d have left the kitchen. The problem was, once she and the others reached the upper floors they were likely to run into Fleming and the men in his closest circle.
Rafe reentered the kitchen and easily located the simple stairs behind a door. He wasn’t picking up sounds of movement ahead, but the disturbed dust on the worn, wooden steps was a strong clue. Not only were there shoe prints, the paws of a large canine had left clear marks along one edge. They were up there. And, if they weren’t careful, they’d stumble onto their captors.
Moving as silently as possible, Rafe was about to start his climb when he thought he heard something in the distance. Sirens. He pulled out his cell phone and tried to call his superintendent. No service.
At his wit’s end, Rafe took the stairs two at a time, paused at the door at the top to draw his gun, then eased it open and peered out.
There was no sign of Hannah, but armed men were running past. In the background, Fleming was shouting orders that sounded as though he was dispersing troops to defend a fort.
Anxious to find Hannah and the other prisoners, Rafe held himself back until the hallways emptied. Then he slowly counted to ten and eased the door open for a better look. All was quiet. He couldn’t have cleared the second floor more efficiently if he’d tried.
“Speaking of answered prayer...” He cast his eyes upward. “Thank You, Father. Now where are the women?”
Lacking a clear answer he turned right, away from the stairs, and made his way to the corner at the far end of the hallway. More closed rooms lay ahead. What he wanted to do was bang on each door in turn until Hannah showed herself. He would have if caution hadn’t been called for. Suppose all of Fleming’s men had not descended to the lobby. It would only take one sounding an alarm to spoil any chances Rafe had of getting to the prisoners and guiding them to safety.
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. “Hello?”
“Situation report,” his supervisor said without wasting time on polite conversation.
“The hostages have escaped and are at large in the hotel,” Rafe reported. “Fleming may not know they’re gone yet. Right now he’s acting more worried about how many of our units are closing in. I know he’s posted snipers on the roof and probably other places, too. Tell our people to assume everyone is armed and dangerous.”
“Copy that. Where are you?”
“At the moment, on the second floor. If I don’t locate the victims here, I’ll go on up to three.”
“Advise when you have them and we’ll give you cover as best we can.”
“I think we should hold off trying to move anybody until you have the gang disarmed. We’ll have casualties if we don’t.”
“Copy.”
Rafe heard him broadcasting to the cars making their approach. Sirens wailed louder, closer. He opened one of the first rooms he came to and hurried to the window. The glass was barely clean enough to see through but flashing red and blue lights helped him tell what was transpiring in the twilight below.
Someone fired the first shot. A volley of gunfire ensued. Rafe ducked just in case a stray bullet came his way. Men on the floor below were shouting and cursing. Deuce Fleming’s voice rose over the din. “Go get the women. We’ll use them as human shields.”
Rafe held his breath. As soon as they discovered their prisoners had escaped they’d begin a frantic search. There would be no place to hide. Not with a dozen armed thugs searching for them.
He fisted his phone again. “They’re about to find out the victims aren’t locked up where they left them. I’ll make a stand at the top of the main staircase but I don’t know how long I can hold them off.”
“Do your best,” his superintendent said. “We’ll make entry ASAP, but I can’t guarantee how soon that will be.”
There was nothing more to say. Rafe took up a defensive position at the corner facing the top of the stairs, laid out the extra guns he’d taken from the men he’d overpowered in the ballroom and waited, knowing he might be living his last moments on earth.
The urge to pray was strong but he had no words, no sensible pleas, not even a remembered verse from his childhood.
That doesn’t matter, he thought soberly. It didn’t take flowery words or complicated prayers to reach out to God. A simple, heartfelt “Jesus,” was more than enough. So that’s exactly what he whispered. Over and over.