Chapter 16
Warren waited until Michael was out of sight with his group of hostages.
That was his cue to strike up a conversation with one of the remaining guards.
Although the men were young, he doubted they were stupid.
They would notice when most of the first lot of hostages didn’t come back from the bathrooms.
The plan was for the women and old people to leave. Some of the men who were injured but still able to fight would stay and help. Warren just had to make sure that the guards were so distracted they didn’t know how many went to the bathroom and how many came back.
“Ah, hello …” he said, approaching the men with a large, disarming smile on his face.
Men was being generous. They were in their late teens.
He noticed the thin wisp of facial hair on one youngster’s upper lip and wondered if he had even seen his sixteenth birthday.
This was ridiculous. Brett preyed on the young, who deserved better than such deception of their naive hopes and dreams.
He swallowed, pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind. No matter how old these men were, they had the guns, and he didn’t. They had proven that they weren’t afraid to fight, to hurt others, and to throw their lives away for Brett. He had to remember that.
“What do you want?” the youngster with the wisp of upper-lip hair asked.
“I was wondering what your plan was for getting folks something to eat,” Warren said, still forcing that friendly grin for all he was worth.
“What?” Wispy asked.
“They can go hungry for a night,” the other one, who was tall and lithe with a smattering of a beard on his chin, began.
“Excuse me,” Dorothy cut in with a shy smile that would have made Warren’s heart race if it hadn’t been already. “I really think that you should rethink that. Hungry people are a lot less cooperative. You know experts say we’re all just one meal away from anarchy. You don’t want anarchy, do you?”
It was a good bet that neither Stretch, Warren’s name for the tall one, nor Wispy, knew what the word anarchy meant.
They looked dumbfounded at each other. Pity rose in Warren’s chest. These poor youngsters.
What had gone wrong had started long before Brett arrived on the scene.
These kids had been neglected by society and, as a result, had gone looking for a savior in the wrong place.
“Look, lady,” Stretch said, pointing the index finger of his gun-free hand at Dorothy. “We’re not the ones making the decisions. If you want to take it up with management, you gotta go and talk to Brett.”
“And he’s busy,” Wispy added.
“Yes, with Mac,” Dorothy commented, looking thoughtful.
She inclined her head and took a step to the left.
Warren did the same and the two guards turned to follow them.
It was funny how the human brain worked.
Moving in a seemingly unconscious manner made the young guards do the same, and now their backs were to the door they were supposed to be watching.
The next group of hostages had quietly been given their instructions.
Some of them had been quite industrious, taking cushions off the seats and stuffing them under the coats and blankets that had been passed around while Dorothy was unconscious.
If someone not in the know looked quickly around the room, it would seem that most folks had decided to get comfy and lie down.
“So, what of it?” Stretch asked. “What’s it to you who Brett is talking to?”
“Mac is my boss,” Dorothy said with a shrug. “I just find it odd that Mr. Devlin has his assistant there with him but not Mac.”
“What is Brett trying to get out of Mac anyway? Money? It must be a lot,” Warren said, drawing Wispy’s attention back to him when it seemed the youth was about to start looking around again. Group two was almost out of the room.
“That’s none of your business!” Wispy snapped. “You’re awfully curious, you know that?”
“I have been told that, yes,” Warren admitted truthfully.
“It’s a good thing and a bad one at the same time.
A very odd situation. You see, sometimes being so curious is a good thing, but sometimes not.
” Movement behind the two caught Warren’s eye, but he was careful not to show it.
It was Michael and the other men. They were back from the bathroom.
“I don’t care,” Wispy snapped. “You talk too much! Go sit down!”
“I still don’t know what you want to do about food,” Warren said, making no move to obey.
He had to hold both their attentions for a little while longer.
“Feeding these people is going to be important. You know Mac is never going to agree to Brett’s demands, so we’re all going to be here a long time. ”
“You don’t know that!” Stretch protested, taking a step toward Warren. Warren didn’t move. He kept his expression amiable. He was just a concerned man, trying to do what he could for his fellow hostages.
“GO SIT DOWN!” Wispy cried, losing his patience.
Michael and the other men chose that moment to attack. They hit the boys on the head and the two of them sagged, dropping their weapons as they hit the floor.
Warren picked up one of the guns. “Are you ready, Dorothy?”
She nodded. “Will you be okay? I feel terrible about leaving you here.”
“No, don’t,” Warren said. “You need to get the others out.”
“They’re waiting for you in the bathroom,” Michael said. “Get Sheriff Rafferty.”
She nodded.
They got the other hostages up, and Dorothy stole a quick kiss from Warren before she led them away.
They had agreed she would take them to the town, where they could raise the alarm and send help.
In the meantime, it would be Michael, Warren, and a handful of men with two guns between them against Brett and his boys.
“Mac will be in his office,” Michael said. “There’s only one way in.”
“I know. And that puts us at a great disadvantage,” Warren said, still feeling Dorothy’s kiss on his lips. “Unless …”
“Unless what?”
“There’s a large window behind Mac’s desk, if my recall is accurate. One of us could come in that way while the other bursts in through the door.”
Michael shook his head. “It’s pelting down. You’d be soaked in seconds and so would the gun.”
“Well, then give the gun to someone who is staying dry and give me something else,” Warren said. “A poker from the fire will do just as much damage if swung accurately. Especially if the other person doesn’t see it coming. They’ll be out before they know what hit them.”
“Okay, then we should split up. You and another hostage can go out,” Michael agreed. “Then when I get the door open and go charging in, you burst through the window.”
Warren hesitated. “If that window is like the one in my room, it’s going to be quite sturdy. I don’t know if I’d be able to break it fast enough. This plan has too many uncertainties. Let’s consider another option.”
“There’s no time,” one of the other men said. “We have to move quickly, or we lose the element of surprise. You standing here debating isn’t going to get us anywhere.”
This wasn’t an accounting problem, Warren reminded himself. He didn’t have the luxury of time to puzzle things through.
“Fine, then let’s create a distraction. One group lures as many of Brett’s men from the office as possible and the other rescues Mac,” Warren said.
That seemed to appease the man. “Okay. I’m Paul, by the way. And that’s George, William, Andre, and John.”
They nodded their greetings.
“Let’s split up. One group comes with me, and we’ll wait for the distraction. The other group creates it,” Warren said.
Andre and Paul went with Warren while George and John went with Michael.
Warren and his team stopped in the kitchen, and Andre and Paul armed themselves with knives. Though he had his gun, Warren shoved a knife into his boot, just in case.
They hurried down the passage from Mac’s office and hid in the private drawing room that Warren and Dorothy had spent an afternoon working in.
His thoughts were filled with her as he waited for the distraction to come.
Was she in town yet? She should be. In fact, help should be on the way.
The thought that Dorothy might somehow have been hurt during the escape made him sick to his stomach.
Please let her and the others be safe, Lord, he prayed. Let us all get out of here safe and sound, and then I won’t waste another minute before telling her how I feel.
Suddenly there was a big bang, followed by a smaller one. The windows rattled, and there was a terrible burned smell in the air. Shouts followed, and in a moment, there was the thud of running feet passing the door to the drawing room.
Warren waited until the sounds died down and then looked out. The corridor had filled with acrid smoke. He and the other men took out their handkerchiefs and hurried down to Mac’s office door. It stood open.
Paul stood on one side of the door and Warren hurried to the other. They peered in and found that only Mac, Devlin, and the two assistants were there, tied to the chairs.
“I’ll keep watch,” Warren said.
Paul and Andre went into the office and untied the hostages.
“Thank goodness.” Mac rubbed his wrists. “What was that explosion?”
“Michael created a distraction,” Warren explained from the door.
“Is that what that was?” Mac asked. “I just hope his distraction isn’t going to burn my hotel down.”
“Well, let’s worry about that from the outside, shall we?” Warren suggested a little wryly, thinking that a hotel could be rebuilt, but if they all went up in flames, that would be harder to mend. “We can go through the hatch in the bathroom or whichever door you prefer.”
Mac strode to his desk and pulled a drawer open. His hand emerged holding a gun and a box of extra bullets. “I mean to fight. Jude, you, Foster, and Barnes should go. Let Warren get you out. This is my hotel, and I’ll be darned if that lying sack of pig manure is going to win this.”
“Mac, that’s not a good idea,” Devlin said. “You heard the man. He wants money. Just give it to him and then this all goes away.”
“Does it though?” Mac asked. “When have you ever known a blackmailer to stop at one payment? I’ve never known it to happen, and I’ve had to deal with more of those spineless cretins than I would like to admit.
No, I’m not going to be beholden to this little snot rag. I’m going to teach him a lesson.”
Devlin sighed. “I seem to have failed on all fronts then. I came here to talk some sense into you, my friend. Not to see you fight a war.”
Mac shrugged. “Then don’t watch.”
With that, he strode to the door. “Lead them out, Warren. I’m going to fight this battle.”
Warren didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t the plan. Mac brushed past him and headed down the passage. He moved quickly for an older man and Warren had to admire his spirit.
“Are you really just going to stand there?” Devlin chided him. “Go after him! If he dies …”
Warren didn’t need to be told twice, nor did he spend time wondering how it was that, suddenly, Devlin wasn’t one of the bad guys anymore. Maybe he’d never intended to take the company from Mac after all? Where did Harding still fit into everything? But there were other things to focus on for now.
He turned to Paul and Andre. “You can get them out?” he asked.
Andre nodded. “I can do that on my own. Paul, you go with him.”
Paul nodded, and he and Warren set off after Mac.
They ran down the corridor and, at the end, pulled up short. There was smoke coming from the left turn, where the corridor led to the kitchen. Warren was about to turn that way, when the sound of Mac’s shouts came from the right.
“This way!” Paul cried.
Running down the other corridor, they passed the restaurant, where there were more sounds of fighting. Then Mac’s voice rang out again from farther down the corridor. They hurried on and came to reception, where the scene took a moment to take in. Warren skidded to a halt as things became clear.
Mac stood close to the reception counter and Brett stood by the front door. There was a woman in Brett’s arms, held there against her will, clearly. She was crying. Warren recognized her after a moment’s thought. It was Agnes. She was white as a sheet and trembling all over.
“Just give me my money, Mac!” Brett cried. “Then you can have this cesspit of a town all to yourself. I never wanted Pine Hill. Just give me the money and this all ends.”
Mac laughed. It was a short, contemptuous bark.
“I’m not that naive,” Mac said. “I know how this works. I pay you today to leave. Then, the next time you feel a little light in the pocket, you think, ‘Gee, there’s this really nice old man I know. If I go and cause some trouble in his town, he’ll pay me to leave.
He did last time. This time I’ll take his ex-wife hostage.
I’ll do whatever it takes to break him and make him pay me again.
’ Well, no sir! That is not going to be hanging over my head. You will not get a cent from me.”
“Then she dies!” Brett cried. Agnes screamed and must have fainted, because she suddenly sagged heavily and crumpled to the floor like a marionette with the strings cut.
At the same moment, the door burst open, and Sheriff Rafferty stepped into the room. He held his gun pointed at Brett.
Relief filled Warren. Thank you, Lord! Finally, this is over.
He and Paul were about to step into the room when suddenly, the sheriff’s pistol’s barrel shifted. Now it was pointing at Mac.
“What’s this?” Mac asked, eyes narrowing.
“I’m real sorry,” Rafferty said, looking vaguely sheepish and maybe just a little guilty. “He got me, Mac. He got me. You were right about the blackmail being a bad thing.” As he spoke, he pulled the trigger.