Marcus had no trouble finding Ackerman. He just followed the sound of sirens and flashing lights.
He pulled Alexei’s car into a parking lot a block from the scene. He looked over at the glove box. He had tried to ignore the weapon that he had used to murder the Sheriff, but he had to face it now.
He retrieved the gun and ejected the magazine. He stared down at it for a moment. Then, he reclined back against the headrest and released a long breath. He thought of the path that had brought him to this point. He tossed the useless weapon onto the floorboard of the passenger side. There were no life-ending projectiles in the magazine. He needed information and another weapon.
A cool breeze struck him as he exited the vehicle. Pandemonium reigned at the scene. Cop cars and other emergency vehicles surrounded the building. The police had placed barricades at a safe distance, and a multitude of onlookers gawked up at the glass and brick structure. He scanned the faces and saw a mixture of morbid curiosity and genuine excitement.
We’re so fascinated by what we fear.
He glanced at the other buildings of the hospital. He could tell that the facility had been recently built. The architecture struck him as modern and yet somehow reminiscent of the nineteen fifties. Red brick and pillars of glass composed the buildings’ faces. The building that had been surrounded shared the same look but was unfinished. The landscaping was nonexistent, and a walkway of plywood served as the sidewalk leading up to the new construction.
He watched the scene for a few moments and tried to calculate his next move. Then, he noticed one of the officers step around the barricade and move in the direction of a nearby parking lot. The lot was a maze of empty vehicles, many of them marked and unmarked squad cars.
He moved toward the parking lot and flitted among the maze. Keeping low and trying to remain unseen, he approached the officer. The man fumbled in his pocket, and a marked police SUV chirped as its alarm disengaged and the locks released.
As the man reached for the handle, Marcus slammed into the officer’s back. The cop went for his gun but found the holster empty.
“Don’t move, and keep quiet. No one will be able to hear over all this noise anyway.”
“You’re making a big mistake here, pal.” The middle-aged cop’s voice was deep and confident.
“You’re probably right. What can I say? I have a self-destructive personality.”
He spun the officer around and stepped back to a safe distance with the gun trained on his opponent. “I need information. What’s the situation here?”
“Some whacko’s got a hostage.”
“Specifics.”
The man remained silent, defiant.
“Listen, let’s not make this any more difficult than it needs to be. I just need specific tactical information.”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because he’s my responsibility, and I’m going in there after him.”
The officer’s expression changed. “So you’re the one he was talking about …”
“What does that mean?”
“He sent us a message. Said he was waiting for a friend to arrive. Said if this friend wasn’t here in twenty-four hours, then he’d turn himself in.”
“That won’t happen. He’ll kill the hostage and as many cops as he can before you take him down. I won’t let it come to that. This is between him and me. Now give me the information I need.”
The man rolled his tongue against the back of his teeth. “Suspect’s name is Francis Ackerman, but you already know that. The hostage is Emily Morgan. He’s on the fifth floor, last we knew. He claimed that he’s going to douse the place with gasoline. We’re holdin’ back while we wait on some hotshot FBI negotiator and tactician on his way down from Denver.”
“Have you drawn up any entry plans yet?”
The man shook his head. “Not my area, buddy. That’s all I know.”
“Thank you. Now turn around.”
The man complied. He moved forward, retrieved the officer’s cuffs, and placed them around the man’s wrists. Then, he grabbed the flashlight from the cop’s belt.
“Think this through. What are you going to—”
He slammed the butt of the pistol into the back of the man’s skull, and the cop fell to the pavement. He retrieved the keys from the unconscious cop’s pocket and stepped into the SUV. The steering wheel felt worn down against his palms. He could relate. He gazed toward the building and calculated the path of least resistance.
Moment of truth.
The SUV growled to life. He threw it into gear and sped from the parking lot.
He laid on the horn as he approached the barricades. The onlookers and cops scurried out of his way as he plowed through the barriers and sped toward a line of cruisers.
The SUV jerked as he slammed into the rear of one cruiser, sending it spinning. The big vehicle roared over the unfinished landscaping and across the wooden walkway.
He braced himself for impact.
The front entrance of the new structure was a giant pillar of glass that rose up the entire height of the building. He didn’t slow as the vehicle broke through the transparent spire and rumbled into the building’s interior.
Glass poured down like icy raindrops with teeth.
Once inside, he slammed on the brakes and cut the wheel. The SUV spun sideways through the spacious lobby and came to rest as it smashed into the newly constructed front desk.
He stumbled from the vehicle, heard the sound of approaching footsteps outside, and made his way into the belly of the beast.