Chapter 4
FOUR
FBI Washington Field Office
That morning’s run along the Potomac River through Georgetown Waterfront Park felt like it belonged to yesterday at the pace time was going.
It was a quiet Monday, but Sandra was under no illusion that set the tone for the rest of the week.
With her job, things could go from a crawl to lightspeed in the blink of an eye.
There still wasn’t anything else she’d have chosen for a career.
Working at the FBI’s Washington Field Office was where she’d been for the last fifteen years, and fourteen of those as part of the Crisis Negotiation Unit.
When her skills as a negotiator weren’t called upon, she played a role in taking violent criminals off the world stage.
A major drug kingpin was taking up her time these days.
He was in the wind and had left hundreds of bodies in his wake, not just from his product but a shootout between his gang and a rival one.
The guy was good at being invisible, she could give him that, but eventually he’d resurface, and she’d be there ready to draw a target on his head.
But until that happened, she was at her desk proactively trying to narrow down where he might be hiding out.
The office space comprised of several desks, with no partition in sight.
Some days she would kill for a cubicle, but privacy wasn’t a thing in a business where everyone had information at their fingertips.
Her fellow agents near her were on their phones or tapping on their keyboards, including the colleague she was closest to, Brice Sutton.
He was one of the latter, fingers flying, though she could swear he backspaced more than he made forward progress.
Only a few here were also part of the CNU, and Brice was one of them like her.
“You’ve got to move. Right now. Both of you.” Elwood Rowe, the assistant director of the FBI’s Critical Incident Response Group, also their boss, came storming up between her and Brice. As if both of you wasn’t specific enough, he was pointing at them as he’d said it.
She straightened, and so did Brice. “What is it?” she asked.
“Founders Hospital is on lockdown. At least one gunman on scene. The Metropolitan Police Department has responded, but we’ve been called in to assist with the negotiations.”
“The MPD’s Emergency Response Team has their own negotiators,” Brice said.
“Thank you, Agent Sutton, for that wealth of information. I had no idea.” Sarcasm dripped from Elwood’s words.
“But since you called me out, there is more to this. The director received a call requesting that we put our people in there. MPD will supply the command vehicle and officers to round out the team, but Vos, you’ll take lead. Sutton, you’re second and support.”
His directive left her with more questions.
For one, it would take some special pull to get the CNU called in for a fresh crisis incident where local law enforcement should be able to handle it.
“A call from whom?” She was certain there was more than was being said, and to be a successful negotiator she needed to be armed with as much intel as possible.
Elwood took a deep, staggering breath. “I should have known you’d ask. Ilene Maddox.”
“As in Maddox Industries, one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the United States?” Brice cut in.
“The very same.”
“And how does she know the director exactly?” Sandra asked.
“Her husband and the director are golfing buddies and belong to some fancy dinner club. They also donate tens of thousands to the FBI. Does it matter? Go.” Elwood thrust a pointed finger toward the exit.
Brice took a few steps, but Sandra stayed put. “And how did she come to know about the situation?”
“What is this? A hundred questions?”
“The more I’m armed with going in, the better.” There was a pull to get to the scene, but she needed to balance this with her hunger for answers.
“She was on the phone with her son, who is an attending doctor. Name’s Jordon Maddox. They were mid-conversation when their call was cut off. Just before the line went dead, she heard someone say, ‘he’s got a gun.’”
“And what floor does he work on?” she asked.
“He’s assigned to the fourth. That doesn’t mean that’s where he was when the hospital went into lockdown,” Elwood said, impatience coating his tone. “But it’s likely.”
“All right. Let’s get going.” She turned to Brice. “I’ll drive.”
“Why wouldn’t you?” he said.
“You can if it means so much to you.”
“Just get your asses there,” Elwood barked, shaking his head.
It was impossible to park close to the hospital, but it was standard to shut down the surrounding vicinity in a case like this. Word was out judging by the crowds gathered behind a cordon line and the MPD officers battling to keep people back.
Sandra approached one officer facing off with a woman in her mid-thirties.
“My sister’s in there. You need to let me by,” she told him.
“Ma’am, you’re not going anywhere,” the officer said.
The woman stepped forward, and he held his hands out to stop her. She tried to circumvent his efforts and wound up being grabbed by her upper arm.
“Ma’am, behind the line, or I will have no choice but to arrest you.”
The woman let out a scream. “You can’t just keep us here like a herd of cattle.”
“Ma’am, one more outburst and I will—”
The woman turned around to face the crowd behind her. “The police are keeping us from our loved ones. We need to fight back.”
At first the crowd seemed to ignore her, but then the energy shifted. What was merely curiosity-driven now crackled with the hint of revolt. The situation needed to be cooled down quickly before it escalated any further.
“FBI!” she called out, stepping to the tape and putting her back to it. Brice stood beside her. “You are all here because you’re concerned about the people in Founders Hospital.”
There were mumbles of agreement. Some voices of contempt.
“You want the people inside to be safe. You want to be safe. So let the police, and us”—she gestured to Brice—“do our jobs.”
The confrontational woman came up to Sandra’s face. “Why should we trust you?”
Sandra remained calm despite the woman being close enough she could feel her warm breath on her face.
She slowly drew out her business card and held it toward the woman.
“My name is Sandra Vos, an FBI negotiator, and I assure you I’m going to do all I can for a peaceful resolution here today. What’s your name?”
The woman took her card, holding eye contact with Sandra until she looked down at the text. “Remy Bishop. My sister, Janie DeSilva, works in there. I was supposed to meet her for coffee, but I was running behind like I always am, and now… this.” She flailed a hand toward the police officer.
The woman didn’t realize how fortunate it was that she was late. “Remy, I’ll do what I can, all right?”
“Just promise me if you find out that she’s okay, you’ll let me know. I’m going crazy out here. You have my name. You want my number?”
Agreeing was a potential minefield with so many listening in. She couldn’t take everyone’s information, but seeing the desperation in the woman’s watery eyes tugged at Sandra’s heart. “Sure.”
Remy gave Sandra her number, and she keyed it into her phone in the notepad app.
“Thank you.” Remy backed up.
With the situation now de-escalated, Sandra turned to the officer.
“That was pretty impressive, Agent Vos,” the officer said, while lifting the barricade tape for her and Brice to slip under.
The compliment washed over her because praise didn’t matter. Results did. “We all have the same basic need to feel safe. I just appealed to that.”
“Whatever the case. It was impressive.”
“Could you direct us to the person in charge down here?” She preferred to move forward than remain stuck in this uncomfortable exchange.
“You bet. Lieutenant Rick Kreiger.” He then directed them to where the mobile command center was parked, one street up and one across.
“Thank you,” she said before leaving him.
“Anytime, Vos.”
As they followed the officer’s directions, Sandra’s mind was on the assurance she made to the people at the cordon line.
She would do all she could for a peaceful resolution.
That was always her goal, but seeing that swell of people made it sink in just how many lives were on the line.
And how many families and friends would be affected by what transpired here today.
Brice looked over at her. “I could have gotten us here in less time.”
“Small talk right now? Really?”
He shrugged. “Never hurts.”
She could argue that sometimes it did. Like now when she was balancing the load of responsibility on her shoulders. But playing along may ease some pressure. “Are you saying I drive slow?”
“I didn’t have to. You just did.”
She shook her head and smiled at him. For years, she’d kept Brice Sutton at a distance.
It wasn’t even personal. She liked to keep her private life just that.
But when her sixteen-year-old daughter, Olivia, was taken three months ago, her relationship with Brice took on a new dynamic.
Sibling-like at best, cantankerous at worst, but he proved himself as someone she could rely on.
Working with him on a crisis incident like this would be a new experience, as they’d never been paired up in that capacity before.
She pulled out her phone and texted a quick note to Olivia that she had been called to an incident. She’d be in class now, but she’d see it during break period. After hitting send and watching it go through, she muted her phone and put it in her pocket.
As she and Brice approached the street in front of the hospital, the incident took on more structure.
Everyone in sight was with the MPD. She wondered if her boyfriend, Eric Birch, was here somewhere.
He was a detective for the Criminal Investigation Division, but in cases like this all available manpower was called in to assist.