Flight

Jason was strumming his fingers across the desk when the phone rang. “We’re on,” he said, looking to the others in the room before connecting the call.

“Hey Clint you had me worried there for a minute,” Jason said with a light hearted chuckle.

“It’s time to bring this date to a close,” Clint replied. “Just so you know, you’re the girl.”

“Tell me how we’re going do this then, do I get a kiss goodnight?” requested Jason, motioning Frank over with his left hand.

Clint chuckled, “You’ll see.”

“Okay, tell me what you’re going to do,” encouraged Jason.

“Simple, we get in the van and drive away, I’m taking some hostages and once we’re safely away, I’m going to let them go,” he said.

Jason frowned, no way in the world did he want to let these guys get in the van, especially with hostages. “Then what?” he asked, stalling for time.

“That’s it,” replied ‘Clint’, “Nice and easy.”

Jason shook his head, it made no sense to him. “You realize there is no way command can just let you drive away, come on Clint, you have to know that. I mean if it was up to me, I’d say sure, as long as everybody gets to get out of this with their skin intact,” he said.

“Something you should be aware of Jason is that I anticipated the possibility of something along these lines and I brought some things to help me convince you to see things my way,” said the robber, the chuckle in his voice not entirely masking the pain.

“Oh?” replied Jason, “What might that be?”

“I have a fair supply of Semtex and radio detonators at my disposal. Plus a Dead’s man switch in my hand,” said the man in the bank.

Jason covered the receiver of the phone, “Jesus! He says they’ve got plastic explosives,” he said, eyes wide.

The SWAT commander shrugged, “Bullshit,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “He’s bluffing.”

“I want you to look at the front of the bank,” instructed the robber.

Jason got up, snapping his fingers and pointing to the building across the way. The officer in the room, turned to see what the negotiator was pointing at.

An older looking man in casual attire appeared in the shattered remains of the vestibule, hands raised as he ducked under the bar and then stood upright, a gray colored brick hanging from a strap around his neck, leads pushed into the plastic explosive and a blinking red light.

“Fuck,” muttered Frank, “Somebody get me a goddamn picture of that pronto,” he ordered.

“His name is Gabe, he is a loving husband, a father of two, grandfather of three and there is enough explosive wrapped around his neck to turn him into a fine red mist. Now I’ve nothing against Gabe personally and I don’t want that, you don’t want that, and I’m pretty damn sure Gabe and his family don’t want that,” stated the man on the other end of the phone.

“You’re right Clint, nobody wants that, so how do we make sure that doesn’t happen?” Jason asked, running a hand over the top of his head, armpits stained with sweat.

“I already told you. We are going to get into the van and drive away. Let us go and nobody gets hurt,” advised ‘Clint’.

Jason looked up to Frank, “Your call, sir,” he said, shaking his head from side to side, no one anticipated plastic explosive.

“Dammit,” muttered the superintendent, growling under his breath. This whole situation was getting out of control.

“Sir?” asked Jason, seeking a course of action.

Frank looked to Cole.

“Orders?” asked the man clad in black combat fatigues.

Frank cleared his throat and shook his head.

“Sir?” Jason repeated.

“Goddamn it, let them take fucking the van,” he blurted, face red, the vein at his temple pronounced.

Jason brought the phone back up to his head, “The man in charge says you are free to get into the van,” he advised.

“Excellent,” replied the man.

Gabe turned and looked back toward the vestibule, nodding he re-entered the bank.

“I want eyes on these bastards,” growled Frank.

Cole brought his radio up, “Henderson you’re in Bravo position with a clear sight line from the bank to the van, I want a play by play,” instructed the commander.

“Copy that,” replied SWAT team member Henderson.

“They pull out, Collins I want you here and get the bloody bomb squad down here pronto too,” Frank demanded.

“Yes sir,” acknowledged the other officer, moving into the other room to make arrangements.

Frank began assigning tracking vehicles and a detail to pursue the van, including use of the GPS trackers and chopper one circling overhead.

Cole’s radio started to squawk, “Movement, two persons moving what appears to be a number of large duffle bags into the back of the van. One of them is pulling the body out of the van, the other figure has returned into the building. Both persons wearing what looks like skull masks, more movement, multiple persons entering the van, I count six persons, four with skull masks, two with black bags over their heads, both hooded persons smaller, wearing  skirts, guessing both female. All four masked perps armed, weapons visible, repeat weapons visible. One perp holding a device in his left hand, looks like an operator pressure control device, repeat affirmative confirmation on the Dead man’s switch,” relayed Henderson from his perch, using the scope on his sniper rifle to watch.

“Four?” asked Jason, looking at Cole.

The swat commander brought his radio up, “Say again? Four perps?”

“Affirmative, counted four perps wearing masks, all armed,” replied Henderson.

“Goddammit,” snarled Frank. “Any sign of the explosive device on either hostage?”

“Negative,” replied the sniper.

Frank shook his head, “Fuck,” he growled.

“Sir, the mayor is on line two, she’s not happy,” said Stevens from the rear of the command room.

Frank rolled his eyes, “This just gets better and better,” he griped sourly as he crossed the room to the phone.