MIKE GETS UP FROM the table.
‘Where are you going?’ barks one of the gunmen.
‘It’s all good,’ says Mike, hands raised. He walks to where Noah’s butler is lying. ‘You okay, mate?’
‘I’ll live.’ The man has blood all over him, but it’s mostly coming out of a small gash on his scalp.
‘Sit down.’
‘Fellas, I’ve got—’
A gun appears in Mike’s face. ‘Are you testing me?’
‘Okay, okay.’
Mike’s about halfway back to his seat when the doorbell chimes again.
The gunmen look at each other.
They look at Amy Owens.
Amy shrugs.
‘Go and check,’ says one of them.
Seconds later: ‘Cops!’
Then gunfire.
Outside the house, Bruno dives for cover, his trousers ripping around the ankle as two miracle shotgun pellets pass through the fabric of his pants and around his leg, only scratching the skin. Behind him, Reynolds is firing into the windows, retreating. They both make it behind the car and take cover. Another round of shots sound, spraying the car and blasting up dust from the gravel drive.
Bruno cracks the driver’s-side door.
Slides up for the radio.
Calls it in.
Reynolds is reloading. He fumbles bullets. ‘What the—’
More shots.
Sharp pings glance off the car.
‘We’ve gotta move or we’re gonna get shot,’ says Reynolds. He nods at the yard. ‘The fountain, then the wall.’
Bruno looks at it.
Don’t think.
‘Go,’ Bruno says and starts shooting.
Reynolds makes it to the fountain, returns fire and covers Bruno.
They do it again and both of them make it out.
It’s fucking chaos inside the house. Amy hides by the wall of the dining room, catching glimpses of Webber and Sunny in the long, adjoining living room, firing out of the windows. As soon as the initial gunfire dies down, Sunny yanks his gun out of the window and runs through the house. Amy can feel his footsteps shaking the entire place as he races up the stairs, going for Noah Winters. Seconds later, she hears him screaming, ‘Who did you call? Who did you just call?’
No response.
Only the booming retort of a shotgun.
More screaming.
Another blast.
Then nothing for a few seconds.
Sunny comes back down, his face sprayed with gore. ‘If anyone moves, they’re dead,’ he says.
‘What have you done?’ says Webber.
Sunny ignores him. He stomps around the dining room.
‘What have you done?’ says Webber, louder now.
Sunny grabs Buddy Winters by the shirt. ‘Is there a safe?’
Buddy is almost convulsing with fear. ‘Yeah, yeah.’
‘Let’s go.’
Sunny drags Buddy upstairs.
In their absence, Webber produces a duffle bag of weapons. He sorts through, loading a couple as a warm wind comes in through the broken windows. They can all hear the sirens on the highway.
‘Sunny, we’ve got to go. Sunny!’ yells Webber.
From her hiding spot, Amy watches Webber pace back across the house. He checks the rear windows and curses, ripping one open and firing out into the field behind the house.
‘Stay back!’
There’s no return fire.
Webber looks around the dining room, from frightened face to frightened face. ‘Who are the guys outside?’ he says.
Buddy’s assistant can’t look at him, but she mumbles an answer from her spot under the dining table. ‘That … that, that’ll be the park security.’
Webber runs to the stairs, calls up, ‘Sunny!’
‘What?’
‘We’re in real trouble down here.’
Bruno and Reynolds watch the squad cars and equipment roll in. It’s a motley collection of uniformed coppers and CIB. The cavalry includes more high-ranking police than you’d expect at this time of night. They set up a perimeter and block the roads. Bruno gives a statement and takes a senior sergeant in closer to show him the lay of the land, then he repeats the process when the Emergency Squad show up half an hour later. Inspector Bingham makes an appearance. He gets on a loudspeaker, demanding the gunmen release their hostages.
‘No way, dickhead,’ is the response.
Five minutes later, while Bingham is still thinking about the next move, a radio message comes through: they’re all to pull back.
Right back.
‘Word from on high,’ says the guy holding the receiver. ‘Deputy Commissioner Sorensen has a negotiator on the phone to someone in the house.’
They move back, everyone except the Emergency Squad. They begin suiting up: strapping on vests and helmets, double-checking rifles and pistols.
Bruno and Reynolds exchange a look.
Orders are orders.
Amy tries to breathe. The gunman called Sunny is on the phone upstairs, shouting obscenities at someone and demanding they send in a helicopter. He’s threatening to kill everyone if he doesn’t get his way.
Bill Webber isn’t calmly taking this in. He’s standing rigid against a wall in the living room, looking like he’s ready to vomit. He’s pale. Knows it’s the end, Amy figures. Couldn’t feel otherwise, not with his workmates outside. There’s no going back now.
‘I want to live,’ she says to him, calling through.
Amy takes a look into the room, on her hands and knees, just her head around the wall separating the dining room from the living room.
Webber nods, sweating.
‘Tell me what needs to happen here,’ she says.
Webber squeezes his eyes closed. He comes to some conclusion. ‘Where’s the lackey?’ He comes across, squats down and points at Mike Nichols. ‘You. Come with me.’
Mike says, ‘Why? What’s happening?’
‘I need you to talk to them.’
Mike slowly crawls out and Webber takes him to the front door, kicks it open and yells, ‘I’m sending someone out. I want to talk to Bruno Karras. I’ll only talk to him.’ Webber pushes Mike into the open doorway, awash in spotlights. ‘Go and find out if they’re serious about Sunny’s demands. And tell them he’s definitely serious about what he’s saying. Tell them you’ve seen what he can do.’
‘Okay.’
‘Hang on.’ Webber stops. ‘You too.’
He’s looking over at Amy.
‘I’m not going out there,’ she says.
‘Yes, you are,’ he says. ‘I need someone to go back and forth, and you’re it.’
Mike waits for her at the threshold.
Webber says to Amy, ‘Tell them whatever you need to de-escalate this thing. And if one of you tries to do a runner, I’m going to shoot the other one. Okay?’
‘You won’t need to do that,’ says Amy.
‘Please,’ says Webber. ‘Just do as I ask.’