Chapter 41
“According to Mr. Baylor,” said Commander Preston, “there are eleven men inside, one guard outside—now that he’s left—and seventeen hostages. Everyone is healthy except a few men who fought back and were punched in the face for it.”
Max briefly closed his eyes.
So many lives at stake.
“He told us there was an early-morning raid to catch the occupants off guard, and they fired their weapons into the ceiling to bring people under control.” He took a deep breath. “Everyone is armed. Most with more than one weapon.”
“Why the fuck did they do this?” asked an agent.
“Mr. Baylor is a little unclear on the exact reason why,” Preston said with a grimace.
“Mark Bourdon brought this group of men together. At first it was just a political thing—get together and bitch and moan with like-minded folk. Discuss how they want the world to be changed. But then Bourdon talked about taking action, and things turned into more of a militia-type organization. Mr. Baylor states he was caught up in it but then he started to suspect that Bourdon had some personal vendettas he was using this group for.”
“You mean Baylor and the rest are just a bunch of followers,” said Max. “They don’t think for themselves. Are the others in there starting to sour like Baylor did?”
“He’s probably happy we got him out,” muttered Noelle.
“He said there’s been talk,” said Preston. “Not a mutiny, but people who just want out. They don’t like what they’re seeing, and this isn’t what they signed up for.”
“They were fooled into coming out here with arms and taking families hostage?” asked Mercy. “That’s a bunch of bull.”
“Mr. Baylor was told it would be government officials. He was surprised to find families.”
“So he was fine with killing a bunch of bureaucrats,” said an agent.
“Mr. Baylor claims he was told this was just to threaten them, scare them. Enough to make them leave their jobs. But once he was on-site, it became clear that Bourdon had some personal axes to grind.”
“Do the others feel this way about Bourdon?” asked Noelle. “Will they back down if offered the chance?”
“That’s what the negotiators are about to find out,” said Preston.
He pulled out the cabin plans and pointed.
“Mr. Baylor says that six men are gagged and tied up on the floor in this main room. The children and women are shut in this room next to the kitchen. We’ve got entrances here, here, and here.
Lots of windows too. Our snipers have confirmed that they can see people in this main room, but there are sheer curtains covering most of its windows and the entrance to the deck.
They don’t have visual access to the room with the children.
In the meantime, we’re going to get our perimeter in place and entry team ready. ”
Preston touched his earpiece. “The speaker’s in place. Time for negotiations to start.”
“Attention inside the cabin,” came a man’s amplified voice from outside, making Emma jump. “This is the FBI. We would like to speak with you. We are placing a radio at the bottom of the front steps for you to communicate.”
Emma stared at the captives in the room. “The FBI is here?” she squeaked.
“Oh, thank God.” One of the women buried her face in her son’s shoulder and started to cry.
They’d all pulled out their gags. Emma and two of the other women had their hands tied in front and were able to work the gags out of the men’s mouths. The children climbed onto their mothers’ laps and ducked under their tied wrists to get as close as possible, their mothers’ arms around them.
“Please pick up the radio,” repeated the man on the loudspeaker. “We would like to discuss your situation.”
One of the bound men went to the window and pushed aside the curtain with his face. “There’s some sort of speaker out there. And I can see a box at the bottom of the steps.”
“Do you think it’s a trap?” asked the woman with the infant. Her name was Cassidy. “The FBI will shoot whoever picks it up?”
“No,” said one of the other women. “They always try to negotiate first.”
The door suddenly flew open, and Mark stood in the doorway. “You.” He pointed at one of the small twin boys. “Come with me. We’re playing a game.”
“No! Jett!” His mother threw her tied hands over her son’s head and pulled him close. The boy’s twin burrowed his way under her arms and buried his face in her chest. “It’s okay, boys,” she said in low tones. “You’re not going with him.”
Mark scanned the room, and his gaze landed on Emma. “You’ll do. Get up.”
“Do what?” she whispered.
“Go get that radio.”
“You were going to hide behind a five-year-old?” snapped the twins’ mother. “Some big brave man you are. Disgusting.”
Mark took a step toward her, anger in his eyes, and Emma jumped to her feet. “I’ll do it.” She headed for the door, making Mark lunge after her and grab her arm. He slammed the door behind them. He spun Emma around to look her in the eye.
“You’ll go down the steps and bring the radio back. You try to run, and I’ll shoot you in the back. Then I’ll make one of those little boys go get it, and he’ll have to step over your dead body.”
He’s like my dad.
A bully. An asshole.
Emma wasn’t scared. She’d dealt with a man threatening her for most of her life. “I’ll bring it back.” She looked at her tied hands. “Can I pick it up like this?”
“Yes.” Mark dragged her to the door, passing several of his men.
She caught some of their gazes. Anger, disgust, pity.
They don’t like him sending me out.
Mark opened the front door, keeping himself hidden behind it. “Wait a minute. Where’s Baylor?” He looked back at the others. “He was guarding the front, right?”
Nods.
“Fucking asshole split. Or the feds already got him.”
He shoved Emma in the back, and she stepped outside, the wide wooden planks creaking under her feet.
Freedom.
But I won’t run.
Emma fully believed that Mark would shoot her in the back.
She moved to the top of the stairs and scanned the yard. It was silent, and she didn’t see the loudspeaker. She moved down the snow-covered stairs and bent to pick up the box. It had a handle, making it easy even with her wrists bound together.
Uncle Tommy had insisted they tie her hands in front of her because she knew how to get out of them. He’d taught her, leaving her with sore wrists and arms for a week.
Not yet, though.
She looked around again, wondering if the FBI could see her.
“Hurry up!”
Emma ran back up the stairs.
“Sniper-one reports they sent out a teenage girl wearing zip ties to get the box. Those assholes,” said Preston.
Anger shot through Max, and Noelle grabbed his arm. “What’d she look like?” she asked the commander. He repeated her question into his mic.
“Orange coat. Blonde hair. Not very tall.”
“That’s got to be Emma,” said Noelle, relief flooding her voice. “She’s okay.” She caught herself. “She’s okay for now,” she added slowly.
“Who is she?” asked Preston.
“She’s an eighteen-year-old neighbor of Tom Hammaker, who she calls Uncle Tommy, but they aren’t related. Her father’s been missing, Gage Chambers. I wonder if he’s inside too.”
“If he’s one of the kidnappers, why would her hands be tied?
” asked Max. He looked around the staging area.
All the FBI agents, including Mercy, were in position around the cabin.
Preston had eyed Max’s injuries again and asked him to stick around.
Only a few county deputies, ready to transport any arrests, and Noelle were left.
“I don’t like all these children on the scene,” said Preston.
Max nodded. The FBI carried the scars of incidents like Ruby Ridge and Waco where operations had gone to hell and children had died. He’d thought about it a dozen times already. No doubt it was weighing on Preston even more.
“Let’s see if they’ve answered yet,” said Preston. He led them inside the mobile command. Two agents were in front of the monitors, and there were three negotiators at a table with an old-fashioned-looking phone and a handheld radio. Each had a yellow notepad already covered with notes.
Max now had eyes on the scene. Sort of. The monitors only showed what the SWAT team could see, and they were far back from the cabin.
One perk to being injured.
“This is Hank Plessinger with the FBI. Who am I speaking with?” said one of the negotiators.
Hank’s voice was mellow but focused. He would try to establish a rapport with Bourdon.
If he was unsuccessful, the other man in the group would try.
Given everything the FBI now knew about Bourdon, it was decided that Agent Sophia Stearns would only speak if absolutely necessary.
Bourdon’s history indicated he would not react favorably to a woman.
“This is Hank Plessinger with the FBI. Who am I speaking with?” he repeated.
“You can call me Boogie, Mr. FBI,” came a voice over the speakers.
From boogaloo?
“Okay, Boogie. How’s the situation in there? Does anyone need medical attention?”
“Nope. Everything is great except for the feds in the woods.”
“Sorry about that, Boogie, but we’re concerned with the safety of the people in that cabin. We know you’ve got women and children in there.”
“Yes. I do.”
“What can we do to get them out safely?” asked Hank. Agent Stearns gave him a thumbs-up.
“You can’t give me what I want.”
“Okay. Then what do you think will work?”
Silence.
“I know there’s a six-month-old baby in there. Little Peyton Ross. How about you let her and her mother go? And we can keep talking about what will work for you.”
“No one is going anywhere at the moment.”
The two other negotiators smiled at each other, and Max replayed Bourdon’s words in his head, looking for what they’d liked.
He said “at the moment,” implying that it could happen later.
It didn’t feel like a big win to Max, but he wasn’t a negotiator.
“Well, until then let’s figure out what you need. How’s the food supply in there? I know there were only supposed to be eleven adults for a few days, and now you’ve got what, twenty-three? Maybe more? What can we get for you?”
“Hey! What the hell!”
The connection broke, and all three negotiators sat back in their chairs.
“What happened?” asked Preston. “Why’d Bourdon yell?”
“Not sure,” said Agent Stearns. “But—”
“This is Sniper-two,” came over the speakers. “People have come out of the cabin.”
Emma had stayed in the main room after bringing in the box, using her superpower of avoiding notice. Mark and Uncle Tommy had argued about what to say on the radio before answering. Tommy wanted him to let some hostages go for concessions. Mark refused. Mark was refusing everything Tommy suggested.
The men in the room continued to shift their postures and shoot furtive looks at each other, occasionally shaking their heads. “You okay?” one had asked her when she came in with the box. His gaze had been concerned.
They aren’t happy with Mark.
Emma wasn’t happy either after seeing the children in the next room.
It was one thing to kidnap her and lock her in a cell, but to threaten to use one of the little twins the way Mark had showed his true character.
She glared fiercely at the other men with guns in the room, causing looks of surprise.
All of them had proved that they cared about no one but themselves.
Mark finally answered the radio.
Emma listened. The man on the other end seemed nice. He hadn’t threatened or yelled at Mark as she’d expected. She thought he made a good point about not all the hostages needing to stay. Especially baby Peyton. But Mark wasn’t giving an inch.
As Emma looked around the room, she noticed one man had slowly backed his way into a bedroom off the big room they were in. A few seconds later, she heard the faint sound of a window sliding open and then a thump as he landed outside.
Would they notice if I did that?
Another man took a step in the direction of the bedroom, casting a nervous glance around. He caught Emma’s eye and froze. She jerked her head, telling him to go.
The second man finally eased into the bedroom, out of sight.
Mark suddenly spun around and realized people were missing. “Hey! What the hell!” He slammed down the radio and sprinted into the bedroom, yelling that he’d shoot anyone who left. Three of his men took advantage of his distraction and darted out the front door.
Boom. Boom-boom!
The gunfire was so much louder than in her cell.
Mark reappeared at the bedroom door. “The asshole tried to kill me!” He looked around, taking count. “What the fuck!”
Four men plus Mark and Tommy were left inside.
And all the hostages.