Connor paces up down some more, by now visually worked up. He signals someone behind the camera, and off screen three people walk on, hands cuffed in the front with white bags over their heads. He pushes each one of them down on the ground, so they are on their knees facing him. He pulls out his Desert Eagle and plays around with it, swinging it around his fingertips as a child would do playing Cowboys and Indians. He turns to the camera again, this time displaying more composure, Shaw and Eddie along with everyone in the incident room all look on horrified at the scene playing out in front of them.
‘So let’s make all these wrongs right. In front of me, grovelling at my feet are people employed by this heinous company. These three people are the big wigs of M.I.T and it’s my pleasure to rid the world of these tyrants. The government can save them by contacting me in the next twenty seconds agreeing to the 28 amendment and the safe passage of me and my men. If they do not agree, then every half hour I will dispatch with three more people. I have a good four hundred employees in my custody, meaning this little game could go on for a few days, if by then I run out of people to sacrifice for this governments agenda then know this, I have a few contingency plans in place to compensate for that hypothetical scenario. Your twenty seconds starts now’
Connor chase paces the room with his mobile phone in hand, parading like a king, invoking fears into the hearts of everyone in the incident room. Shaw looks at the DA speechless. Smith puts his hand on the chief’s broad shoulder.
‘We can’t do anything about it Shaw; we don’t have the power to grant him his wishes.’
‘Who can make that decision, those people need to be saved, we can’t let them die’ Says Shaw
‘Washington needs to make the call. Quite frankly I already know what their answer is going to be. It’s the United States of America’s policy not to negotiate with terrorists.’
‘Fuck policy, we need to get them out!’
‘We will, but we need to plan this out properly. There’s no use going into this thing all guns blazing and getting our men killed, along with the hostages.’
Chief Shaw nods his head in disappointment. He walks out of the incident room to the sound of three gun shots echoing and then dead silence. His face cringes at the thought of those three souls perishing, his thoughts change to finding the only man he knows that can turn this situation around. The only man he can trust in these times. The only man he feels can lead his officers into battle. His thoughts changed to finding Frank McKenzie.
Fifty
‘Shots fired I repeat shots fired, Squad B-miner in need of backup on corridor six’ Shouts an officer into his two way radio while ducking for cover firing his weapon blindly over his head. The six officers place themselves strategically around cover in the hallway, each man firing his weapon freely and on demand, none of them daring to peak over their cover positions in fear of being shot, the sound of bullets are ricocheting off the surfaces of the walls next to the defending officers, debris falls onto the first guard temporarily blinding him. For a split second his arm is visible as he flails rampantly, trying to wipe the white dust from the walls off his visor. A hissing sound pops and echoes as he takes a bullet in the arm. Blood trickles out of his wound as his body is snapped back onto the floor as he grabs at his arm screaming in pain. Two of his squad mates come to his aid; one of them collapses on the floor in the middle of the hallway as blood pours out of his neck. The remaining guard attending to the first officer looks over at his fallen comrade. He notices the bullet wound to his neck. He swallows hard as he comes to realise the fate of his team. He turns to the first officer clutching his arm.
‘Look, this guy is obviously trained. We can’t risk losing more men.’ He says
‘What do you mean, I am not dying it’s just a flesh wound.’
The commanding officer points over to the dead guard on the floor ten feet from both of them.
‘Shit! What do you suggest we do then?’ Asks the bleeding guard
The man shakes his head
‘I don’t know. I think we should just let him go to avoid any more casualties’
‘We can’t just let him go. He has killed one of our men, plus by what I could see when we came up, the crazy bastard was covered in blood! He must have killed some other people in the building, or he sweats blood either way the guy isn’t going nowhere.’
The other guard nods in agreement. He takes his two way radio out and clicks the button on the side; a noisy hissing sound escapes the speaker as he moves the radio closer to his mouth.
‘This is lieutenant Fishman; I’m radioing in for a general security check on the rest of the building, has there been any other incidents besides the one on corridor six?’
There is a long silence until the radio starts crackling back to life. The sound of bullets hissing past Fishman makes him hug the wall tighter.
‘Negative Squad B-Miner, all activities are normal.’
‘Received’ Says Fishman, he puts his two way radio back on his belt holster
‘I say we just let him go. Let’s surrender and get you and any injured to safety. I am not risking you or my men for some spy bullshit.’
The injured man agrees reluctantly with the lieutenant
‘Okay, you’re the boss’
Fishman stands up from behind cover with his hands raised.
‘We surrender. Juts go about your business; we don’t want any more casualties’ pleas Fishman
He is met with a dense cloud of dust obscuring his vision down the hallway. The smoky cloud finally clears after a few more moments of silence. The hallway in which Frank McKenzie was standing in is empty, besides from the guard’s mangled corpse on the floor. Fishman looks around and sees nothing, confusion washes across his face. He turns around to see the remainder of his men motionless on the floor leaving only him and the injured man. He turns to see the injured guard motionless on the floor; he rushes down and turns him over. A bullet hole is neatly placed in the middle of the man’s head. A cold sensation is felt on Fishman’s neck. Before he can turn around McKenzie fires. Fishman collapses onto a pool of blood as Frank walks out of corridor six.
Fifty One
The year 2006: SIX YEARS BEFORE BOARDING THE TRAIN
Mrs Gardener is standing in front of her whiteboard as she surveys her class. The attendance is much lower than her usual classes; this is due to the fact that she is hosting the ever popular after school detention club. She hated that part of her job. She always thought how useless these proceedings were, especially since she always saw the same people in there every time she was assigned to the job. The school teachers would draw straws on whose turn it was to host the extra-curricular event. She always seemed to pull the short one. Bad luck she thought to herself.
She stood in front of her class wearing her usual appealing ware that kept the male students from spit-balling each other and the female students from liking her. She coughs out loud to draw the attention of ten students sitting in front of her with the expressions of boredom widely visible on their faces.
‘Okay boys and girls. Even though it’s end of year and all, you still find it impossible to go about your school activities without finding yourselves here. Now I’m not going to waste my time telling you people how to live your lives, so I’m giving you all this time to reflect on your behaviour leaving school and going into adult life. Please use this time allocated for you to catch up on any work that I’m sure you are falling behind on. Save all questions till the end of detention.’
The class moans consecutively and goes about their business while Mrs Gardner sits down and starts marking some papers. She goes into a work fuelled zone where the only thoughts that are rushing through her head are what she is likely to do when she gets home. A bottle of wine and a TV dinner for one she thinks to herself. The thought stops her in her tracks as she gazes out of the window for a while, taking in the sunny day and brisk wind brushing against the trees on campus. She spots someone sitting on a bench facing her direction. She immediately wonders who it is. Suddenly she feels a vibration in her jeans pocket and pulls out her mobile phone, she darts her eyes to her class and notices no one looking at her. Professional at all times.