Chapter 56
CHAPTER
I’d known john sampson since elementary school. I’d met him shortly after I moved to Washington, DC, to live with my grandmother.
As we grew older, I’d seen him handle himself remarkably well in a couple of fights. And I was well aware of his training with the U.S. Army and of the years he spent on patrol with Metro before becoming a detective.
But I had never seen the man who blew through those doors, intent on rescuing Officer Nancy Donovan. Low, aware, with his attention sweeping three hundred degrees left and right, he raced forward into the relative protection of the stacks. I was right behind him.
Sampson slowed to a stop, held up his hand, and listened. We could still hear shooting outside, but it was distant and sporadic.
Then, far ahead of us and to our left, toward the northeast corner of the building, we heard muffled, frantic voices. Sampson nodded to me, gestured in that direction, then turned into a stalker.
He moved quickly through the stacks, staying right in our aisle, and slowed again when we could see the far wall. Then he stopped and listened once more.
We could hear male voices arguing in Haitian Creole. They were closer and almost directly ahead of us now.
Sampson slipped off his shoes. I did the same, and we crept in the direction of the voices, shotguns shouldered, ready.
When we were some fifty yards away, we heard the argument growing more intense. There were at least three male voices. And then we heard Nancy Donovan.
“You do this, Patrice, and you are guaranteeing yourself a death sentence,” she said.
A slap. “Shut up, bitch,” Prince said. “We have other things to think about.”
We crossed another aisle in the stacks of shelves. They were no more than three aisles away now, to our two o’clock.
A young male voice said, “We need to leave, Patrice. Back door. Cops are coming.”
“Cops are here!” Sampson roared, stepping out to face Prince and the younger man, who were a good twenty yards away. They stood on either side of Officer Donovan, who was in a chair by a desk, still blindfolded, her wrists tied behind her. “Drop your weapons! Now!”
Both men were armed with pistols. Prince let his go. It clattered onto the floor.
When the second guy dropped his gun, John moved forward with me right behind him. “Step away from her and get down on your bellies,” he told them.
They complied. The sirens outside were close now and the shooting was dying down.
Sampson and I were almost to Donovan and the crisis was almost over when Rodolpho appeared from the shadows at our five o’clock with an automatic weapon aimed at our heads.
“Drop your guns!” he shouted. “Or Valentine kills you now!”