6:12 P.M.
Soaking wet, clutching the fire extinguisher to his chest, Parker waits for one of the killers to walk into Van Duyn’s workroom.
And waits.
And waits.
Finally he can’t stand it anymore. The water is thunderously loud as it jets from the sprinkler, but for some reason no one is coming to investigate. Parker edges open the workroom door, then ducks down behind the front counter. As he crawls out into the main part of the store, he nudges the fire extinguisher ahead of him. The little finger of his left hand looks like it might be broken. His butt is stiff and painful. His left eye throbs with the beat of his heart. Every part of his body complains.
Still on his knees, he peeks out the entrance of Van Duyn. The killers are all clustered at the gate, paying no attention to the hostages. Most of the hostages sit slumped on the floor, exhausted by the ordeal. A few are more alert and anxious, eyes darting, trying to figure out their next move.
“Kilo? Come in, Kilo. Do you copy?” Wolf says. “Over.” The strain in his voice tells Parker it’s not the first time he’s said those words.
When the killers’ mics crackle, they all jump. “This is Kilo,” a disembodied voice says. “Over.”
Across the hall, the back of the AT&T store is starting to fill with thick gray smoke. Parker catches a glimpse of the guy who works there, on his knees behind the counter, feeding the flames a stack of forms a few at a time. Looking at AT&T’s fire, Parker wishes he had let his smolder instead of forcing the sprinkler to go off. Even as smoke is starting to roll out of the store’s door, though, the killers are still focused on the voice of the man who must be their leader.
“How are things going at the airfield? Have our people gotten there yet?” Wolf asks. “Or the plane? Over.”
“The plane?” Kilo echoes. “You honestly believed there would be a plane? Tell me, do you also believe in the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus?”
After a second of shocked silence, the four killers all speak at once, swearing and demanding that he explain what he means.
Kilo’s voice cuts in, his calm tone a sharp contrast to that of the others. “Did you really think this whole thing was going to work? That the cops and the FBI were going to let you leave in a bus—a bus!—with a few dozen hostages? And then give you a plane and just let you fly away?” His laugh is showy, fake. “If so, then you guys are even dumber than I thought. There’s no way any of that is going to happen. You’re terrorists, even if you’re Americans. And the government doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.”
“Why do you keep saying ‘you’?” Mole demands. “We’re in this together. If we’re terrorists, then you’re a terrorist.”
“Sorry, bro. What you are is a distraction. And what I am is rich. See, I had a little side project, one worth millions in gold. The only problem was how to get away without getting caught. That’s why I want to thank you. Because what you’ve done today? That’s tied up every cop and deputy and FBI agent for miles. And since they’re all busy with you at the mall, they don’t care about little old me.”
“Wait a minute,” Lips says slowly. “When’s the plane coming? I don’t get it.”
“Idiot!” Ron gives Lips’s shoulder a shove. “He double-crossed us.”
“But what about the cause?” Wolf asks.
“What about it?” Kilo says. “Nobody cares. Nothing’s going to change. Timothy McVeigh blew up the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma and killed 168 people. He thought he’d inspire a revolt against the government. All he got was a lethal injection. And how about 9/11? Two freaking buildings collapsed and nearly 3,000 people died. But did anything fundamental change afterward? No.”
“Our message will still get out!” Mole insists, but his voice trembles.
“I used to be like you guys,” Kilo says. “I thought I could make people listen. But they’re not going to change. They don’t want to. They like buying crap. They like mindless TV. They like caring about celebrities. And they don’t really care if politicians lie or the army sends poor kids overseas to die. They don’t want to know how things really work. Just as long as they have their creature comforts.” He makes an amused noise. “And you know what? I’ve realized I’m not that much different.”
Wolf shakes his head as if Kilo can see him. “Right now, we’re being carried live on every news site and TV station,” he insists. “And they’re going to broadcast our manifesto. People are paying attention to the cause.”
“And once the live feed ends because you’ve all been killed,” Kilo says matter-of-factly, “people will stop watching and go on to the next entertainment.”
“Forget you!” Lips says. “We’ll tell the cops it was all your idea. You planned the whole thing.”
“I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to do that, Timmy,” Kilo says. “Because we’ve come to a parting of the ways.”
“Yeah!” Wolf says bitterly. “You’re abandoning us here.”
Kilo answers, “That’s not exactly what I mea—”
The last syllable is cut off by a tremendous explosion.