Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
Sandra had enough to balance without stressing about Ilene Maddox.
Though her enclosed threat was hard to miss.
I remember people who don’t keep their word.
It only stamped in how long they’d been on scene and how little progress they’d made.
The silence was torturous when it came to the negotiations, just as it was with her mother’s health.
Sandra had her cell phone out, and Dana hadn’t called again.
No news, good news? It was hard to say, but she had to believe that to keep her focus.
In hostage situations, silence was double-edged. While it could lead hostage takers to impulsive action, it could also make them uncomfortable enough to surrender. That didn’t make waiting any easier.
And in her position, every passing second was like barbed wire slicing into her flesh.
Each stab was a reminder of how hundreds of people inside needed medical attention.
Adding to the pain was the irony they were in the right place for that, just at the wrong time.
And the clock was ticking for little Phoebe Chapman.
Brice, Monica, and Gibson were back to pulling more backgrounds on vehicle registrations. But the wisest thing she could do right now was get back on the phone with the woman in the boardroom. But as she went to tuck her phone away, the screen lit up.
“Dana,” she answered, and everyone looked her way. “Just a personal call I need to take,” she told them and left the vehicle.
“Dana, tell me there’s some good news.” As if the request could affect reality, bend it to her will. If only a wish made a dream come true.
“I just saw that you called a couple of hours ago. I’m sorry that I didn’t see this until now. I’ve been by your mother’s side and talking with her doctors.”
“What are they saying?”
“Your mother’s bloodwork has come back, but doctors are concerned because her iron levels are very low.
She’s anemic, actually. They believe that’s what caused her to faint.
A transfusion is being considered, but they haven’t done that yet.
There are more tests they’d like to run and can’t have new blood providing false readings. ”
“Can’t they just give her an iron pill?”
“If only it was that easy. But supplements take weeks to absorb into the body. Apparently, a transfusion is the fastest way to spike her levels. Please know, though, that she is stabilized and resting peacefully.”
Hot tears flooded Sandra’s eyes. Resting peacefully was also what dead people did. “Okay, well, that’s good at least,” she said, her throat tight.
“Please be assured, she’s receiving the best care.”
“Do the doctors have any idea why her iron is low?”
“If they suspect something specific, they’re not saying.”
Which, to Sandra, wasn’t a good thing. They wouldn’t want to share a dire prognosis for it to be proven false.
“I assume the tests they’re going to run will give them some answers,” Dana added. “And Ms. Vos, I know you’re worried about your mother, but there’s no need. Please, trust me. I’ll call you should anything change or take a turn.” Dana’s soothing voice helped her words penetrate.
“I trust you with her life.”
“Thank you, Ms. Vos. I will call when I have more.”
“Thank you.” Sandra hung up and swallowed back the fear that rose in her throat and returned to her workstation. Focusing on work would get her through.
She put her headset in place, and said, “I’m calling the boardroom.”
The rest of the team got on their headsets and nodded when they were set. She made the call.
“What do you want?” the woman answered, tense and immediately on the defense.
It wasn’t a good sign of what was transpiring in that room, but Sandra was calm when she replied. “This isn’t about me. You can talk to me, and I will listen.”
“You’re just saying that. I need you to leave me alone so I can take care of what I need to.”
People gasped in the background. One man said, “She’s going to kill us.”
“Shut up or I will, I swear,” the woman threatened.
“Please,” Sandra inserted. “There’s nothing you can’t still walk away from.” Not entirely the truth, obviously, but it could get worse.
“Are you crazy? I’m not going anywhere until I get what I want.”
Sandra sensed Brice looking at her profile, but didn’t turn to him in fear of losing the thread with the HT. “And what do you want?”
“I want them to pay!”
Brice scribbled, revenge or is this about money?
“You’re angry,” Sandra empathized.
“Damn right, I’m angry. They don’t care about people. That’s a lie they sell to make money. They’re fat cats lapping up the cream. All of them.”
Brice scratched out revenge, but Sandra wasn’t so sure. She shook her head but didn’t make eye contact with him.
“‘Lapping up the cream’?” she parroted back.
“Making themselves rich off people. People who have nothing to start with, not that they care.”
“Help us!” someone screamed in the background.
“Shut up!” the hostage taker yelled back.
Sandra feared the situation in the room was escalating. If the woman’s hostages didn’t calm down, this wouldn’t come to a good end. “They’re scared, that’s all. Just like you.”
“I’m not scared.”
“What you’re doing today is extremely brave.” Sandra fed the woman’s ego, approaching things from the way she’d see her actions.
A few seconds, then, “If they’d just do as I ask, then maybe we could end this.”
Brice wrote, After something from them…
“What do you need? Let me get it for you.”
“You can’t!” With that, the line went dead.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Brice said. “She’s sounding like she’s being pressed against the wall.”
Sandra was familiar with the feeling. “The clock doesn’t stop ticking.
All this time and she hasn’t made progress toward her goal either.
Meanwhile, the cops and feds are set up out here, essentially breathing down her neck.
And the people in that room are terrified and feeling hopeless, but their panic is only adding to the shot caller’s. ”
“Right, so what is so important that she’s still in that room?” Brice countered. “I don’t believe she’s hurt anyone yet, or someone would have chimed in with that.”
“Agreed.” There was hope in that because of the time that had passed. If she was bent toward violence, she would have made an example of someone by now. Just as Mickey had.
“I’m with you guys,” Monica said, swiveling toward them. “But I think she’s getting closer. You mentioned the pressure she must be feeling. What’s to say she doesn’t start shooting hostages soon?”
“Nothing, except one thing. She needs something from them,” Brice said.
“But is it from the group or one person?” Monica volleyed back.
“Hmm. Good question, and I’m leaning toward the former.
Let me see the script, Monica.” The woman handed it over, and Sandra scanned down.
“Yes, here it is. ‘Fat cats lapping up cream’, ‘don’t care about other people.’ We’ve already mentioned how the people in that room are some of the most powerful and wealthy in medicine and pharmaceuticals. ”
“Which makes the possibilities for wrongdoings endless,” Brice put in.
“This could be about money or a failed procedure that hurt someone this woman loves. Or a faulty medication produced by any of those companies owned by the people on the board,” Sandra said. “Though I suspect this has a financial trigger.”
Brice nodded. “Me too, with that ‘fat cat’ comment.”
“You don’t think Beal is the target then?” Neal asked, weighing in on the conversation from the other end of the vehicle. He was seated at the table, nursing a coffee, next to Luis and Kreiger.
“Oh, I never said that. Beal is the CEO, and this woman probably holds her ultimately responsible for whatever this is about, or needs her backing for what she’s after.”
“And how does that account for her accomplices? What’s their stake in all this?” Gibson asked from in front of the markerboard where he made his latest notes.
Woman on eighth floor escalating, wants the board members to do something… Fat cats…
The vague summary painted a bleak picture. “They may be friends, or she could have hired them. Next time I get through to her, I’m going to try and find out more about her accomplices.”
“Excuse me,” Luis wedged in and continued when everyone turned his way. “You mentioned this might be about money, but none of the people in that room have anything to do with medical bills or collection.”
“But the HT might see them as being able to do something about their debt or even hold them responsible for their financial burden,” Sandra said. “Again, that’s assuming this is about money.”
“And there are surgeons in there,” Brice said. “It’s possible this woman is in debt for a costly procedure with no way to pay it off. Do you have access to see past due accounts?”
Luis shook his head. “That’s one system I can’t access. I have a contact, but I’d need names. I suspect there are several past due accounts.”
“He’s got a point,” Kreiger put in.
Fat cats… making themselves rich… This thought gelled with her earlier statement about a botched procedure. “Do you know if any of the doctors in that room have open malpractice suits against them or even recent claims that were rejected?”
Luis pushed his glasses up his nose. “The most recent case was against Dr. Jessup, and it was dismissed.”
“What were the details of the case?” Sandra asked.
“It was regarding a liver operation that Dr. Jessup performed. The plaintiff accused Jessup of coercing his brother into having the operation that ultimately resulted in his death. While the procedure was a common one, it went sideways. There was an excessive loss of blood. The deceased’s brother claimed that Dr. Jessup failed to exercise care and precautions. ”
“And the doctor’s defense?” Sandra asked.
“He did all he could, but there was unexpected bleeding during the re-section procedure. Even though he responded as per protocol and infused the patient with blood, it wasn’t enough to save his life.”
“We’ll need the name of the plaintiff,” Coleman said.
“Jamie Radcliffe,” Luis told him.
“Is he one of them?” Monica pointed at the photos of the gunmen on the markerboard.
Brice clicked on his laptop and stopped shortly after, shook his head.
“Radcliffe’s driver’s license looks nothing like either male hostage taker we’re aware of.
According to his background, Radcliffe is thirty-nine, single, and lives alone.
No criminal record. One of the women could be connected to the case involving his brother. A girlfriend or wife of the brother?”
“The deceased’s name?” Monica asked.
“Roger Radcliffe.”
Monica tapped on her laptop and beat Brice to pulling the background this time. “He was unmarried at the time of death. The girlfriend bit could hold true, though.”
Neal nodded. “I’ll get an officer out to talk with Jamie Radcliffe to see what we can dig up there.”
Our efforts must pay off eventually… Right?
Sandra stared at the photographs of the three hostage takers.
Just ordinary-looking people. Surely, something had to give soon.
A piece of intel that could help her fashion a strategy that would get them to surrender.
But short of that, she didn’t want to dwell on all the ways the next hour could go wrong.
Thoughts of that little girl and her medical crisis weren’t far from mind.
Neither was Jordon Maddox and the others in the hospital who might need medical attention.
She recognized the fine balance between killing time and pushing things a little too far.
The former got her brother killed. But she had a horrible feeling about what would happen if they rushed things.