5:56 P.M.
Miranda imagines the toy car, with a phone inside, zipping down the corridor far enough to film the hostages, and then coming back. With one of the killers in hot pursuit.
“But what if Amina’s not there?” she says. “We won’t know until we watch the video.” An idea bubbles up. “Does anyone have FaceTime or Skype on their phone? Because if we connected two phones, then we could use one phone to see what the other one sees. That way, it would be like we were actually in the car. And we won’t have to actually be able to see the car to drive it.”
It turns out everyone but Javier has one of the apps. And that when it comes down to it, no one really wants to be the one to risk losing their phone.
Eventually Grace volunteers her phone for the driver’s seat. “But what if they just shoot it?”
“It’s the same thing I said before,” Cole says. “If they start shooting, the cops are going to think everyone must be dying. And then they’ll storm in no matter what. That’s why they didn’t shoot Amina or Miranda’s friend. Right now it’s a hostage situation. They have demands and they want them met. They won’t want to screw that up just to shoot a toy car.”
“But what if my phone falls out?” She clutches it to her chest.
“We’ll put it in lengthwise so it’s more stable,” Cole reassures her. “And that way it’s less likely to hit the bottom of the gate if I have to go under it to make sure Amina’s really there.”
“If you have to go under it?” Javier echoes. “The remote-control car is my idea. I should drive it. I’ve played Grand Theft Auto a million times.”
Cole holds up a cautioning finger. “Before anyone does anything, someone has to get the car. And that means running across that open space as fast as possible and then coming back. And whoever risks doing that should get to drive the car.”
Javier looks down at his bandaged leg, then presses his lips together and nods. Miranda and Grace don’t argue with Cole’s plan.
Before he tries to retrieve the car, Miranda again lies belly down on the floor and slips out her phone, tilting it until she can see the two men with guns. They’re both still facing toward the hostages. One of them appears to be talking.
At her nod, Cole darts across. It’s less than twenty feet, but it feels like miles. Miranda swallows back bile as she watches the killers and listens for Cole. She can’t see behind the kiosk, but every rattle and click makes her wince. Still, the killers don’t turn. It feels like forever until her peripheral vision catches Cole peeping around the corner of the cart, but it’s probably under a minute. She nods again to let him know that it’s okay. Just after he darts back across, one of the men glances up the hall, but his body language shows no sign of alarm.
Miranda pulls her phone in and then exhales shakily.
Cole is carrying a controller and a ten-inch-long white Jeep with an open top. Grace tries to put her phone sideways on the seat. It’s tight, but it fits.
Grace takes it back out and connects with Cole on FaceTime. Now his screen shows what her phone can see, with just a small inset square displaying what his phone is viewing. And hers is the same, only in reverse. When Grace fits her phone back in the car, Cole’s phone shows her thumb as well as the front of the Jeep’s hood.
They have created a mobile surveillance camera.
It’s time. Cole sets his phone on top of a display case showing a map of the mall. After tugging on the brim of his ball cap, he picks up the controller.