Chapter 16/17
Chapters Sixteen & Seventeen
Mon/July/2008 07:00 AM
Chapter 16 -
Pieces of the Picture
The crane was blocking the exit. That’s what Renoir was telling them:
“The whole fucking thing came down.”
Those were the words coming out of his mouth.
That was the situation.
These guys were trapped!
Jeff and the rest of the group stood huddled around Renoir, as the older man sat slumped in a chair in the corner, his hands clasped around his leg. Jeff squeezed his hand down on the old man’s shoulder as David rolled up a blood soaked pant leg to examine the wound. Renoir caught his breath between clenched teeth.
“Hold on,” Jeff murmured to him.
Renoir turned away as David exposed the bullet wound. Blood was caking into a red and black plug, but a trickle of crimson swirled out and down the knee the moment the pant leg brushed against the wound. Nina caught her breath and pulled a scarf from around her neck. Jeff recognized it as the $600 Hermes he’d given her last Christmas.
“Here,” Nina said. “Keep pressure on that.”
“Thank you,” Renoir responded, as he wrapped the cloth around his leg.
David rose from the floor, looking over at Tim and Simon who were still conferring. It was a wonder they hadn’t stopped them as they huddled in the corner to talk. Tim had glanced over and nodded his head from his men to the group, and there had been some visible whitening of trigger fingers, but that was it. So far.
Raj stood off to the side, his right hand clasped around his left wrist, the two pulled against his crotch as if he had to pee.
“Do you know why these guys are here,” David asked Renoir.
“Probably because of that asshole.”
Renoir motioned to Raj, who stood off to the side, his right hand clasped around his left wrist, the two pulled against his crotch as if he had to pee.
. “I suspect my colleague has created something that these men want.”
“A vaccine?” Jeff asked.
Renoir scoffed, “Doubtful.”
“I think what they want or don’t want is beside the point,” Nina interjected. “I’m more interested in what happens to us now.”
The group fell silent.
“Well, it looks like for the moment, all of us, these guys included, are trapped in the building,” Jeff said. “What would you do if you were in their shoes?”
“Well,” Nina began. “Half the Seattle police department must be out there by now.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Jeff, you might not think so, but to a lot of people, you’re a pretty big deal. The police will be here, probably with half the FBI.”
“Including Ransom?” Jeff’s eyes brightened.
“Of course.”
“Seriously though,” Jeff started. “How would they know I’m here. How do we know if there any police here yet?”
“They're here,” Renoir said. “They responded to the fire alarms.”
“The police did?” David asked.
“Police and fire. I could see them from the upstairs window. They have the building surrounded.”
Raj looked over, lifted his head curiously, and shifted his feet in place. Then a tumbler seemed to slide into place in his head and he wandered towards them.
“What the fuck have you been up to, Gupta?!” Renoir spat at the little man.
* * *
His footsteps echoed off the linoleum in the empty hallways. He’d been late before, and he’d certainly gone AWOL on more than one occasion, but this little rendezvous had run longer than usual. Not that that was a bad thing. Nick ran down the last corridor, rounded the corner, and slowed his pace to a medium clip as he walked through the doors into the office’s back hallway.
It was quiet.
The place seemed abandoned.
He walked down the hall, looking into several of the faculty members’ open doorways. The desks all sat empty. This was atypical.
He glanced over his shoulder at the door to the Chair’s office. Renoir was no doubt coming in to greet Jeff Pepper upon his arrival. Maybe the entire department had left for a tour of Gupta’s labs. A tour, coupled with a bit of ass kissing for additional grant money from Pepper’s foundation. That was probably exactly what was going on. Still, maybe there was a delay. Maybe the faculty was just late, or Pepper was late, and Dr. Renoir was just sitting at his desk, checking his email, or playing video poker until he got the call to head downstairs.
Maybe.
Nick walked down the hall, paused at the doorway, then tilted his head inside. The blood was the first thing he spotted. Renoir’s chair - spattered in fresh crimson. Blood darkened the side of the desk, sprayed over the wood in a fine mist.
All sound in the room swept into his ears. He heard his own heart beating as step by step he approached the desk and looked down at the floor.
There was no body.
That was good.
What there was was a pool of deep, deep red. Someone had been injured, he could only assume it had been Renoir. His senses grew sharper, though the room remained pin drop silent. Nick looked at the pool of congealing liquid, then he looked closer, and saw that there was actually a trail. A blood drop, drip pattern, spatter paint trail of scientist blood. Here there were several drops leading to the doorway. A few feet further were several more. The gatherings grew thicker in spots, places where the victim must have stopped to gain his strength as he made his way out of the room.
Nick followed the trail. He heart beating faster with each crimson pool, which seemed to be more frequent as the trail progressed. The victim had not sat long after his injury, the wound was obviously bleeding faster as he went along.
Nick stopped at the window, where another red stain glistened in the carpet. Only now something else seized his attention. Through the window he saw the collapsed crane, the fire, the smoke, the crowds, the ambulances and trucks.
Something more than a fire had started while he and Morgan had been hiding out upstairs.
Nick ran for the stairs, throwing the door open in the concrete stairwell, where it echoed with a metallic clang behind him. He ran down the steps, his feet barely touching the tops - in a flash he was out in the downstairs hallway - running - running - then it all came together as he ran out into the main rotunda and caught his first glimpse of the situation - a flash of masked men, and gun barrels, and people with their hands on their heads, crouching on their knees, leaning on tables, Now he knew what was happening, and he slid to a stop, turning in mid arc to head back from where he’d come, his shoes slipping and sliding beneath him as he raced frantically in the other direction, suddenly remembering all too clearly the dreams of childhood, where a stranger comes to get you, and try as you might, your legs just won’t seem to move. Only Nick’s legs moved, slowly but steadily his sneaker treads caught hold, and then he was rushing away, his arms pumping, a silent scream bellowing from his lips as he heard people behind him, running after in pursuit.
Chapter 17 - Plans
“These blueprints are for shit,” Ransom muttered.
He’d spread them out on the hood of a nearby squad car, and for the last ten minutes had been trying to get some idea of how the building was laid out. A police officer in his early twenties approached him,
“Well, it’s confirmed. Jeff Pepper’s chopper landed on the roof at a quarter to noon.”
“Thanks, but I knew that already,” Brick shot back impatiently. The kid gave him a curious look, so he continued. “My gut told me son. My gut told me.”
The boy struggled to keep from rolling his eyes as he walked away.
Brick looked back at the blueprints.
“These plans are bogus. If the University actually built this place from these things, then, well, then nothing, cause I don’t believe it.”
He looked at the girl who had been hanging around. She was a hottie, hotter than Victoria even. Well, a different hot, but-
“Hey, whats yer name?” Ransom barked.
“Morgan.”
“Morgan, I need your help with these things. What I’m looking at here-” he pointed at the paper- “Isn’t matching with what I’m seeing here,” he looked up at the building.
Morgan walked over with just the right bounce and sway. Brick caught a whiff of her perfume.
College girl.
God she was hot.
Focus, Ransom. Focus.
Morgan looked at the plans carefully.
“Is this the front entry?” She circled her finger around the lower portion of the plans.
“Supposedly.”
“Well, then this is where the department offices are-”
Ransom arched an eyebrow. She was smart too-
“-and this, this is where the labs should be,” Morgan continued, pointing to a little illustrated teddy bear icon.
Ransom leaned forward to bring the plans into focus. His eyes were shot, but he didn’t want this girl to see him in his readers.
“The labs are here?” He asked. “Where the school told the city they were putting in a daycare facility?”
Morgan shrugged her shoulders and nodded.
“Hmmm, looks like we have a little zoning violation here.”
Sam Ballard walked over. “Stay on task, Ransom.”
“I’m just saying.”
Brick shrugged turned his attention to Mark Price and Phelps, who were standing off to one side, arms crossed, discussing the matter seriously. They saw him looking and came over.
“We need to make contact with the people inside, find out what they want and see how the hostages are doing.” Phelps said.
“And how will we do that? We don’t even know how many of them there are, or who they’ve got in there,” Ransom responded.
“We’ve got to assume the worst.”
Price looked at Morgan. “It seems safe to assume they’ve got Jeff Pepper, so where would he be inside this building?”
“I'd try the Department of Immunology,” Morgan stammered. “or Dr. Gupta’s “daycare” facility.”
The crane was blocking the exit. That’s what Renoir was telling them:
“The whole fucking thing came down.”
Those were the words coming out of his mouth.
That was the situation.
These guys were trapped!
Jeff and the rest of the group stood huddled around Renoir, as the older man sat slumped in a chair in the corner, his hands clasped around his leg. Jeff squeezed his hand down on the old man’s shoulder as David rolled up a blood soaked pant leg to examine the wound. Renoir caught his breath between clenched teeth.
“Hold on,” Jeff murmured to him.
Renoir turned away as David exposed the bullet wound. Blood was caking into a red and black plug, but a trickle of crimson swirled out and down the knee the moment the pant leg brushed against the wound. Nina caught her breath and pulled a scarf from around her neck. Jeff recognized it as the $600 Hermes he’d given her last Christmas.
“Here,” Nina said. “Keep pressure on that.”
“Thank you,” Renoir responded, as he wrapped the cloth around his leg.
David rose from the floor, looking over at Tim and Simon who were still conferring. It was a wonder they hadn’t stopped them as they huddled in the corner to talk. Tim had glanced over and nodded his head from his men to the group, and there had been some visible whitening of trigger fingers, but that was it. So far.
Raj stood off to the side, his right hand clasped around his left wrist, the two pulled against his crotch as if he had to pee.
“Do you know why these guys are here,” David asked Renoir.
“Probably because of that asshole.”
Renoir motioned to Raj, who stood off to the side, his right hand clasped around his left wrist, the two pulled against his crotch as if he had to pee.
. “I suspect my colleague has created something that these men want.”
“A vaccine?” Jeff asked.
Renoir scoffed, “Doubtful.”
“I think what they want or don’t want is beside the point,” Nina interjected. “I’m more interested in what happens to us now.”
The group fell silent.
“Well, it looks like for the moment, all of us, these guys included, are trapped in the building,” Jeff said. “What would you do if you were in their shoes?”
“Well,” Nina began. “Half the Seattle police department must be out there by now.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Jeff, you might not think so, but to a lot of people, you’re a pretty big deal. The police will be here, probably with half the FBI.”
“Including Ransom?” Jeff’s eyes brightened.
“Of course.”
“Seriously though,” Jeff started. “How would they know I’m here. How do we know if there any police here yet?”
“They're here,” Renoir said. “They responded to the fire alarms.”
“The police did?” David asked.
“Police and fire. I could see them from the upstairs window. They have the building surrounded.”
Raj looked over, lifted his head curiously, and shifted his feet in place. Then a tumbler seemed to slide into place in his head and he wandered towards them.
“What the fuck have you been up to, Gupta?!” Renoir spat at the little man.
* * *
His footsteps echoed off the linoleum in the empty hallways. He’d been late before, and he’d certainly gone AWOL on more than one occasion, but this little rendezvous had run longer than usual. Not that that was a bad thing. Nick ran down the last corridor, rounded the corner, and slowed his pace to a medium clip as he walked through the doors into the office’s back hallway.
It was quiet.
The place seemed abandoned.
He walked down the hall, looking into several of the faculty members’ open doorways. The desks all sat empty. This was atypical.
He glanced over his shoulder at the door to the Chair’s office. Renoir was no doubt coming in to greet Jeff Pepper upon his arrival. Maybe the entire department had left for a tour of Gupta’s labs. A tour, coupled with a bit of ass kissing for additional grant money from Pepper’s foundation. That was probably exactly what was going on. Still, maybe there was a delay. Maybe the faculty was just late, or Pepper was late, and Dr. Renoir was just sitting at his desk, checking his email, or playing video poker until he got the call to head downstairs.
Maybe.
Nick walked down the hall, paused at the doorway, then tilted his head inside. The blood was the first thing he spotted. Renoir’s chair - spattered in fresh crimson. Blood darkened the side of the desk, sprayed over the wood in a fine mist.
All sound in the room swept into his ears. He heard his own heart beating as step by step he approached the desk and looked down at the floor.
There was no body.
That was good.
What there was was a pool of deep, deep red. Someone had been injured, he could only assume it had been Renoir. His senses grew sharper, though the room remained pin drop silent. Nick looked at the pool of congealing liquid, then he looked closer, and saw that there was actually a trail. A blood drop, drip pattern, spatter paint trail of scientist blood. Here there were several drops leading to the doorway. A few feet further were several more. The gatherings grew thicker in spots, places where the victim must have stopped to gain his strength as he made his way out of the room.
Nick followed the trail. He heart beating faster with each crimson pool, which seemed to be more frequent as the trail progressed. The victim had not sat long after his injury, the wound was obviously bleeding faster as he went along.
Nick stopped at the window, where another red stain glistened in the carpet. Only now something else seized his attention. Through the window he saw the collapsed crane, the fire, the smoke, the crowds, the ambulances and trucks.
Something more than a fire had started while he and Morgan had been hiding out upstairs.
Nick ran for the stairs, throwing the door open in the concrete stairwell, where it echoed with a metallic clang behind him. He ran down the steps, his feet barely touching the tops - in a flash he was out in the downstairs hallway - running - running - then it all came together as he ran out into the main rotunda and caught his first glimpse of the situation - a flash of masked men, and gun barrels, and people with their hands on their heads, crouching on their knees, leaning on tables, Now he knew what was happening, and he slid to a stop, turning in mid arc to head back from where he’d come, his shoes slipping and sliding beneath him as he raced frantically in the other direction, suddenly remembering all too clearly the dreams of childhood, where a stranger comes to get you, and try as you might, your legs just won’t seem to move. Only Nick’s legs moved, slowly but steadily his sneaker treads caught hold, and then he was rushing away, his arms pumping, a silent scream bellowing from his lips as he heard people behind him, running after in pursuit.
Chapter 17 - Plans
“These blueprints are for shit,” Ransom muttered.
He’d spread them out on the hood of a nearby squad car, and for the last ten minutes had been trying to get some idea of how the building was laid out. A police officer in his early twenties approached him,
“Well, it’s confirmed. Jeff Pepper’s chopper landed on the roof at a quarter to noon.”
“Thanks, but I knew that already,” Brick shot back impatiently. The kid gave him a curious look, so he continued. “My gut told me son. My gut told me.”
The boy struggled to keep from rolling his eyes as he walked away.
Brick looked back at the blueprints.
“These plans are bogus. If the University actually built this place from these things, then, well, then nothing, cause I don’t believe it.”
He looked at the girl who had been hanging around. She was a hottie, hotter than Victoria even. Well, a different hot, but-
“Hey, whats yer name?” Ransom barked.
“Morgan.”
“Morgan, I need your help with these things. What I’m looking at here-” he pointed at the paper- “Isn’t matching with what I’m seeing here,” he looked up at the building.
Morgan walked over with just the right bounce and sway. Brick caught a whiff of her perfume.
College girl.
God she was hot.
Focus, Ransom. Focus.
Morgan looked at the plans carefully.
“Is this the front entry?” She circled her finger around the lower portion of the plans.
“Supposedly.”
“Well, then this is where the department offices are-”
Ransom arched an eyebrow. She was smart too-
“-and this, this is where the labs should be,” Morgan continued, pointing to a little illustrated teddy bear icon.
Ransom leaned forward to bring the plans into focus. His eyes were shot, but he didn’t want this girl to see him in his readers.
“The labs are here?” He asked. “Where the school told the city they were putting in a daycare facility?”
Morgan shrugged her shoulders and nodded.
“Hmmm, looks like we have a little zoning violation here.”
Sam Ballard walked over. “Stay on task, Ransom.”
“I’m just saying.”
Brick shrugged turned his attention to Mark Price and Phelps, who were standing off to one side, arms crossed, discussing the matter seriously. They saw him looking and came over.
“We need to make contact with the people inside, find out what they want and see how the hostages are doing.” Phelps said.
“And how will we do that? We don’t even know how many of them there are, or who they’ve got in there,” Ransom responded.
“We’ve got to assume the worst.”
Price looked at Morgan. “It seems safe to assume they’ve got Jeff Pepper, so where would he be inside this building?”
“I'd try the Department of Immunology,” Morgan stammered. “or Dr. Gupta’s “daycare” facility.”