Chapter 5
FIVE
Most mobile command vehicles were the same.
This vehicle had a round meeting table with a half-moon bench, and four workstations with computers and other electronic gadgetry.
Whiteboards were secured to the wall, while an alcove was stocked with essentials to fuel long negotiations.
There was a coffeemaker and a kettle for tea, cups, coffee condiments, and a small fridge.
Sandra looked at the markerboard, and the information was sparse and reminiscent of what she and Brice had already been told.
Two armed assailants—one man, one woman
Man believed to be positioned on the fourth floor
Lines of communication down—jammer and hospital lines
That last barrier was a huge problem and one that needed to be overcome as soon as possible.
“Neal?” Kreiger said, causing a man with red hair to turn around.
He was standing at one of the workstations, watching over the shoulder of a man wearing headphones.
The scanner was on his work surface next to a laptop.
The seated man must be Gibson, the intelligence officer.
Kreiger went on. “I trust you can handle the intros, et cetera. These are the FBI negotiators. I’m going to follow up on those blueprints. ” Kreiger left the vehicle.
So much for him introducing us… That was the first she’d heard about blueprints, but getting them was a standard request during a crisis incident.
Neal came over to them and eyeballed the coffee cup in Brice’s hand.
Brice raised the cup. “I assume you have somewhere this can go.”
Neal took it from Brice, shaking it to make sure it was empty before tossing it into the recycling bin in the alcove. “Let me guess? Rick’s?”
“It was,” Brice said.
“The logo gave it away. His favorite coffee shop. I shouldn’t say this, considering I don’t know either of you from Adam, but the guy’s a freaking litterbug. It irritates the livin’ hell out of me.”
Sandra smiled. “Special Agent Sandra Vos.”
“Lieutenant Coleman. Feel free to use my first name and call me Neal like everyone else. And you?”
“Special Agent Brice Sutton.”
Neal nodded. “Well, this is the dream team you’ll be working with.”
There were two other people in the vehicle.
Neal gestured toward the man. “That’s Gibson Farmer, our intelligence officer.”
The man turned around, offered a token wave, and smiled.
He appeared to be in his late forties, like Sandra.
She was forty-seven, but she liked to think the wrinkles around her eyes weren’t as defined as his.
That might have been denial blended with wishful thinking.
She was aware of the grays that kept creeping up in her blond hair.
“I can help you out, Gibson,” Brice said. “Whatever you might need. Pulling backgrounds, phone calls… As support for Special Agent Vos, part of the job is providing psychological profiles. Obviously, identities and backgrounds aid with that.”
“Offer accepted,” Gibson said. “Right now, I’m monitoring the scanner for radio transmissions to see if we can latch on to our perps.”
“You can help me with backgrounds,” the woman said, holding out her hand to Brice, then Sandra. “Monica Harding, scribe, though I’m stepping up to fill multiple roles right now.”
Her smile created fine lines around her mouth. Otherwise, no gray hairs or wrinkles in sight. She had brown hair and a smooth complexion. It was refreshing to be working with another woman, as it wasn’t that common in this field. “Nice to meet you,” Sandra told her.
“Likewise.”
“So who are the backgrounds on?” Brice asked, pulling his laptop from his bag and claiming the workstation next to Monica.
“Officers are gathering plate numbers from the parking garages and vehicles parked on the surrounding streets. They’re forwarding these along, and we’re pulling backgrounds on the registrations to see if anything flags.”
Sandra admired the proactive approach. “Good idea. Especially with the street parking. It could be more appealing to our perps, offering greater ease of getting away.”
“Not that anyone is getting far,” Neal said.
“True enough, but that’s not how the human mind is wired to think.” Unlike animals, people consciously planned for the future. If the people inside had any intention of walking away from this, they would have thought this through. Even against logic that would tell them a clean break wasn’t likely.
There was a knock on the vehicle’s door, and Neal walked past them to answer. Sandra looked over his shoulder and spotted a uniformed officer and a male civilian next to him.
“Luis Rigby, the hospital’s director of emergency management,” the man announced.
“Welcome to the party,” Neal said, backing up.
Luis stepped into the vehicle. Dressed in pleated pants and a light jacket, he was anything but the picture of composure. His forehead was glistening, his hair poked out from behind his ears, and his glasses were sliding down his nose. He had a zipped leather portfolio tucked under his right arm.
“You’ve got a mishmash here today. The MPD and the FBI.”
The man’s eyes jabbed toward her and Brice. Sandra chalked it up to nervousness. Their presence often made people uncomfortable.
Neal quickly ran through the introductions. “Here, take a load off.” Neal gestured to the bench seating. “Coffee or anything? Would that make you more comfortable?”
“I’m fine.” Luis offered a tepid smile and pulled his portfolio from under his arm as he sat down.
“Yes, we won’t bite. I promise.” Neal was grinning and let the expression travel to Sandra.
“Though, this one might.” She jacked a thumb toward Brice, trying to lighten the tension.
Luis looked at him, and Brice was shaking his head. “She’s playing with you.”
“Oh.” Luis pushed his glasses up his nose.
Luis struck her as a touch socially awkward, but it was hard to know if that was the stress of the day having that effect. Most people, even those in emergency management, weren’t emotionally prepared for situations like today. “You seem a little out of sorts,” Sandra said, showing empathy.
Luis met her gaze. “You could say that, but…” He took a deep breath, smiled, and sat back, shoulders square. “My job is to ensure that procedures are followed in cases where something like this happens.”
“Has it ever happened before?” She had asked to show interest, already knowing the answer. Helping Luis realize his nerves were perfectly normal.
“No, and now that it has, it’s nothing short of overwhelming.” He pushed up his glasses that had slid down the slope of his nose again.
“Well, you’re safe here, and we intend to resolve this peacefully before anyone inside is hurt.” Sandra was running on the presumption no one had been injured, but her softened tone appeared to soothe the man.
“Thank you for saying that.” His shoulders relaxed, and he withdrew a slim laptop from his portfolio.
Sandra didn’t miss the look shared between Neal and the other MPD cops. Monica pressed her lips and nodded.
“We understand you were working with the service provider to reactivate the hospital’s phone system remotely. What are they saying?” Neal asked.
“That it should be possible, but it all depends on how it was knocked out. The good news is they can see the network, so someone didn’t just pull the plug.”
“A virus then?” Sandra asked.
Luis nodded. “Most likely.”
“But how would someone infect the server? Emailing a bad file or link?” Neal asked.
Luis shook his head. “This is a highly sophisticated system. It scans all incoming mail and locks out potential threats.”
“Technology isn’t foolproof. It could have missed one,” Neal said.
“I’d say the chances of that happening and aligning for today are slim,” Brice put in and added, “I think we’re best to assume someone shut it down from the inside.”
“Suppose you might have a point,” Neal conceded.
Sandra turned to Luis. “How hard would it be to plant a virus on the mainframe to crash the system?”
“Difficult to impossible, but if this happened, it was definitely an inside job. To start, the server is locked inside a dedicated room with retina scanners on the door. Once inside, the person would need to bypass the passwords and understand code to directly upload malware. But if a virus was used, that’s potentially good news for us.
The service provider may be able to restore and reactivate the system.
In the meantime, they are supposed to get me a link to access the last uploaded information.
The system backs up automatically ten minutes to every hour. ”
“We need to know who last accessed that room,” Sandra said. “And when.”
“Five staff have that clearance. I can get you what you need once I have that link from the provider.”
“What floor is the server on?” Sandra’s mind shot right to the fourth floor.
“The sixth.”
That could be where the gunwoman was posted, the one that prompted the woman’s call to 911.
“On another topic, we’ve been trying to gain access to the security cameras, but Monica hasn’t had any luck with the company yet,” Neal said.
“I’ll see if they respond faster to me.”
“That would be great,” Neal said. “The sooner we can get eyes inside, the better.”
“Just before you get on that, Luis, could you run us through the protocols for lockdown?” Details and facts were crucial. She’d rather be overloaded with intel than on the short end.
“Sure thing. Overhead lights go off, and emergency ones come on.
Exterior doors and the ones between levels lock.
Personnel are trained to get all patients into their rooms. Doors are to be locked, and all the blinds closed, including ones on exterior windows.
Any visitors are escorted into rooms and told to stay put.
Staff are also to find a place to hole up.
“Ambulances receive a computerized message in their rigs and are rerouted to Howard University Hospital. Any surgeries underway during the time of a lockdown will continue as long as it’s safe to do so.
The hospital has several walkie-talkies, which doctors and nurses use to communicate transfer of patients, among other things.
They are instructed to keep off the radios during a lockdown. ”
“I can confirm no one is saying a word,” Gibson said, clearly keeping one ear on the conversation.
“And what about elevators?” Brice asked.
“They shut down, and the doors to the stairwells lock.”
“What if there was a fire?” Gibson asked from his workstation.
“A fire wouldn’t prompt a lockdown.”
“But a fire could be started after the place was locked down. Hey, I’m just saying.” Gibson shrugged.
“I have the ability to unlock doors and resume the elevator remotely,” Luis said, not indicating that Gibson had rattled him. “There is always one person off shift that does. The trick is the system needs to be up and running.”
“Does anyone inside have a keycard that overrides all the locks?” Neal asked. “Or does the system need to be responsive for that too?”
“It sure does, but in answer to your other question, no. Otherwise, that could make them a target. If they were taken out, their card stolen, criminals would gain access to the entire hospital. Only a few of us have standard keys and codes to unlock the main entrance, myself included.”
“By knocking out the system, the gunmen must not be concerned with unlimited movement around the hospital. Or they didn’t know about this restriction. Are these protocols public knowledge?” Sandra asked.
“They are on the hospital website along with the entire emergency response notebook. We need to think about the safety of all our patients and visitors. It’s there for them to see before coming.”
Sandra imagined the hospital was prepared for several contingencies, but there was no need to squander time exploring the others right now. “What’s on the fourth floor?”
“The fourth houses the cardiology and neurology units.”
“Critical patients,” Brice said.
A knot formed in Sandra’s gut, but she pushed the sickening feeling aside.
The job demanded her focus, not her emotion.
“Which I suspect was intentional, just like their reason for being here today. Just like their reason for shutting down communication. They want to make sure we don’t interfere with their plans. ”