Bullseye

CHAPTER 9

Caleb paced nervously in front of the intersection of the main hallway and the corridor leading to the mall offices. He was hoping with all his might that no one would happen along this way. He figured his odds were good. There were no stores around here. It was just dead space in the mall on a Saturday afternoon.

He pulled his phone and texted Reuben. The message was brief.

Hurry up!

Just as he put the phone away, he looked up. His mouth became dry and he gave an involuntarily shudder.

It was a mall cop headed directly his way.

As the beefy man in the dark blue uniform with squeaky belt and shoes approached, Caleb attempted a smile.

“Hello,” he said as the man drew closer.

The man looked at him suspiciously. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Help?” said Caleb in a shaky voice. “No, I’m fine. Just…just waiting on some friends.”

“Up here?” The guard made a show of looking around at the empty space.

“Y-yes,” said Caleb, stammering slightly. “We, I mean they, don’t really know the area. I suggested meeting here, you know, just for — it gets crowded downstairs.” He paused and swallowed hard. “I don’t like crowds.”

The guard looked even more suspicious. It didn’t help when Caleb gave a nervous glance down the corridor leading to the mall offices.

“Can I see some ID?” asked the guard.

“ID?” asked Caleb shrilly.

“Yes, ID,” said the guard, drawing closer. His hand went up and rested on the butt of his holstered gun.

“Cer-certainly, Officer. Do I call you Officer?”

“Sir, the ID, please.”

“But I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“Then you should have no problem showing me some ID. If it checks out we can all go on our way. How’s that sound?”

“But the Fourth Amendment guarantees protection against unreasonable searches and seizures,” said Caleb desperately.

“I’m neither searching nor seizing, sir, and you’re making this a lot harder than it has to be.”

“I’m sorry, I truly am.” Caleb could see the cop was definitely suspicious now. He suddenly brightened. “I saw Paul Blart: Mall Cop with Kevin James,” Caleb said conversationally as he reached inside his jacket for his wallet. “Delightful movie. Very funny. Not an Oscar-caliber film, of course, but quite crowd-pleasing.”

The guard did not look pleased by this at all. “Blart was a moron. I’m not a moron. I served twenty-five years with the metro police.”

Caleb looked horrified. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean to suggest—”

His phone vibrated. As he drew out his wallet and handed his ID to the cop he glanced at the screen.

We’re done, coming out. Coast clear?

Caleb looked up at the cop, who was studying his ID, then quickly thumbed his response. One minute and then hit it.

“Sir,” said the cop. “I’d like you to come—”

Before he could finish, Caleb started holding his chest and gasping for breath.

“I–I-I think I’m having a pa-pa-panic attack. Ca-can’t ca — catch my breath.”

He started to collapse. The cop caught him and supported him. “Just hold on, sir. I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.”

Caleb pointed to the elevator bank. “Fr-fresh air. Need — outside…quick.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m going to call an ambulance too.”

Caleb drew a painful, shuddering breath. “Out-out…side. Hurry.”

The guard helped Caleb to the elevator and inside. The doors closed behind them and the car started down.

Five seconds later Harry and Reuben appeared in the main hall. Under Harry’s arm was a set of building plans.

“Where’s Caleb?” asked Harry.

“Probably gone off to a bookstore,” grumbled Reuben. “If there’re any left in this place. Come on, we’re running out of time.”

The door to the interior room opened and Adam Chase stood there, gun in hand. “We are just about done here,” he said. “And then all of you get to go on with your lives. Unless you give us problems.” He looked at Stone and Robie when he said this.

“No problems,” said Stone.

Another man appeared next to Chase. He held a machine pistol in his right hand. His face was, like Chase’s, covered with a ski mask.

Chase looked at him and then indicated Stone and Robie.

“Watch them closely,” said Chase, and the other man nodded. “Any problems at all, just take them out.”

Chase left and the other man put his back against the door, his gaze scanning the room.

In the bank lobby there was a hole in the drywall at the location of the pop-out. The studs had been sawn apart and some concrete blocks broken through, creating an opening large enough for a man to get past.

Chase and his three associates had clambered through the hole and were now staring up the exposed shaft that was framed in by steel beams for the once proposed elevator bank.

It was dark, of course, which was why they had night optics. They slipped the lenses down over their faces and powered them up.

Chase hefted a backpack over his shoulders. His colleagues did the same. They strung sturdy nylon climbing ropes around their waists and then coupled them using D-links. Then they each picked a section of wall, gripped one of the steel beams, and started to climb. The beams were close enough together that they made good progress. On the lower floors the shaft was formed by concrete blocks, but on the upper floors it was only drywall and studs. Each of them moved expertly, gaining a firm purchase with hands and feet on the beams before hoisting themselves higher. At this pace they would be at their destination very soon.

Harry and Reuben were back in the men’s room, the blueprints for the mall and the bank branch laid out on the floor. Harry had quickly studied them and then pointed out the optimal egress. He made his living breaking into places far more secure than even a bank. He pointed to a section of wall next to the row of sinks.

“I think there is the best spot. We have to assume they’ll have the hostages in the interior room there.” He pointed to that area on the blueprints. “Right behind this wall is the bathroom in the bank. They did it that way so they could use the same plumbing from this restroom. Saves time and money.”

“Right,” said Reuben, studying the plans. “But there’ll be sentries, Harry. We have to account for that.”

“I know. That’s why I brought this.” He pulled from his knapsack what looked like a handheld wand that TSA personnel would use at airport security, except that it had a small screen on the handle. “Thermal imager,” he explained.

He moved it up and down in front of the wall and then checked the readout screen.

“It’s clear right now.”

“Well, let’s hope nobody with a gun has to take a pee in the next few minutes,” said Reuben.

Harry drew out a saw from his duffel and began, as quietly as possible, to cut through the drywall.