“Hey,” Lowell was saying. “Someone with two cell phones and a revolver in her purse. Give me that gun. It could come in handy. A man can’t have too many guns.”
Ali knew that the Brought Back girls wouldn’t have been armed, and she doubted that Andrea Rogers would have been, either. That meant that in addition to Ali, only Governor Dunham had been carrying a weapon.
“I was planning on hiking the whole way, and then I saw this rig,” Lowell continued. “At first I thought you were just a bunch of stupid campers, spending the night, but when I found out the driver was armed and carrying a security-detail badge, I realized this has to be some kind of command vehicle. So I would guess the lady with the gun is the one running the show?”
“More or less,” the governor said. “My name’s Governor Virginia Dunham. I’m one of the people running the show, Mr. Lowell, but only one of them. There are plenty of others. It’s over, Mr. Lowell. This is not going to end well for anyone. Give it up.”
“I’m supposed to surrender on your say-so? Are you nuts? Who’s the one holding the weapons here?”
Ali glanced at her watch. It was just now twenty-five minutes past the hour. Thirty-five minutes to go. Moving slowly, she put her own weapon down long enough to ease her cell phone out of her pocket. An emergency 911 call this close to zero hour might put the entire joint operation in jeopardy, but she needed to alert someone about their dire situation. Instead, praying that Stuart Ramey was still up and working, she forced her trembling fingers to type a text:
EMERGENCY. DO NOT REPLY OR CALL. HELD HOSTAGE IN SPRINTER BY LOWELL. RECORD WHAT’S SAID. NOTIFY DPS. SEND HELP. DO NOT USE REGULAR 911 CHANNELS.
Then she dialed Stuart’s number. He answered after half a ring.
“Ali, I got your text. What’s up? How can I help?”
At the sound of his voice, Ali’s knees almost buckled out of sheer gratitude. Instead of replying verbally, Ali turned the call volume to max. Then she sent another text:
FOLLOW SIGNAL. LOWELL ARMED AND DANGEROUS. ACTING ALONE, I THINK. GOV’S DRIVER MUST BE DOWN. SIX HOSTAGES, INCLUDING GOV AND B.
Ali allowed herself a deep breath. If Lowell ended up gunning them all down, Stuart would at least be able to provide an audible recording of what had happened.
“If you have a quarrel with anyone, Mr. Lowell,” Governor Dunham said, “it’s with me. Let the others go.”
“Nobody’s leaving,” Lowell replied. “Everybody stays.”
Ali’s opinion of Governor Dunham moved up several notches. Despite having a gun pointed in her direction, she sounded poised and utterly calm.
Ali hurriedly sent Stuart another text:
ARE YOU HEARING ALL THIS?
Stuart’s response was almost instantaneous.
LOUD AND CLEAR
So was Ali’s.
STAY WITH US.
Ali stuffed the cell phone into her bra and picked up her weapon in time to hear more of what was happening beyond the door. She heard Lowell’s sudden change of focus when he finally either noticed or recognized the Brought Back girls.
“You two are behind all this, aren’t you? I should have known you’d be involved. As soon as Amos told me that you’d run off, I knew there’d be trouble. Whatever happens, it’s all your fault.”
“You’re evil,” Ali heard Patricia mutter.
“You’ll never get away with this,” Agnes added.
“Right,” Lowell said. “Another station heard from. Who says I won’t get away with it? Out of the pigpen less than a day and already you’ve cut off your hair and started wearing godless clothing. Just because you’re wearing pants now, young lady, what makes you think I’ll listen to you? You may have forgotten your position in the world, but I haven’t. Besides, you and Patricia there won’t be around to cause trouble for much longer. Now shut the hell up.”
“Leave them be,” Governor Dunham said.
“You shut the hell up, too,” Lowell ordered again. “In my world, women speak only when spoken to.”
“Wait a minute,” Bill Witherspoon interjected. “You can’t talk to her that way. She’s the governor of Arizona!”
“Watch me,” Lowell replied. “Just watch me.”
With the phone put away, Ali had the Glock back in her hand. The earlier trembling that had afflicted her texting ability had diminished, but she had no idea what to do. She was painfully aware that, with the door shut, she was blind to what was going on just beyond the door. She had no idea where Lowell was standing or what kind of weapon he had in hand. Most likely some kind of automatic. How else could he assume he’d be able to hold six people at bay and impel them to do his bidding?
As for Ali, if she emerged from the bathroom to face him, she’d most likely be walking directly into his line of fire. She had confidence in her shooting ability, but with him looking straight at her, he’d have the drop on her. In addition, in the close confines of the cabin, any stray shots risked the possibility of hitting the marble backsplash and ricocheting into the very people Ali was hoping to save.
“Who are you?” Lowell demanded.
Ali was riveted when she heard her husband’s answer. “I’m B.—B. Simpson.”
“Well, Mr. Simpson, the driver of this vehicle seems to be otherwise occupied. Can you drive this thing?”
“I suppose.”
“Do it, then,” Lowell ordered. “Go up front and get us the hell out of here.”
B. rose and headed toward the cab. “Where are we going?” he asked.
“Leave the connecting door open. I’ll give you directions as we go, but if you try anything funny, like running us into a tree or a fence post or a utility pole, I’ll put a hole the size of a dinner plate in the middle of the governor’s chest. Got it?”
“Got it,” B. replied.
The body of the Sprinter shifted as B. moved forward. Ali imagined Richard Lowell sitting with his weapon still trained on Virginia Dunham’s chest. With B. in the cab, he was somewhat protected from bullets shot from Richard Lowell’s weapon but not from Ali’s.
“You don’t need the rest of these people,” Governor Dunham asserted once again. “Let the others go.”
“Like I said, you don’t get to tell me what to do.”
A few seconds later, B. shifted the idling Sprinter out of neutral. Ali shifted her stance, leaning against the wall for support lest some sudden jerk or bump betray her presence. They lurched onto the pavement and, after a moment, were speeding in what seemed to Ali to be a northerly direction. For a time no voices came from the cabin. The only sound was the rumble of moving tires on pavement.
“Where are we going?” Governor Dunham asked several minutes later. “What are your intentions?”
“Where I’m going is none of your business, but my intention is to use you and the others as an insurance policy to get me there.” After a pause Lowell continued, “Hey, driver. Take the next right and stop at the security gate. After we drive through, the gate will close automatically.”
“What’s your name?” Ali heard Lowell ask.
“Bill,” the chief of staff answered. “Bill Witherspoon.”
“Okay, here’s the deal. When we stop, you hop out and key in the code 1556. Come right back once the gate opens or somebody dies.”
The vehicle slowed. When it came to a stop, Ali felt a slight wobbling as someone moved through the vehicle. A door opened. As Witherspoon’s two-hundred-plus pounds exited the vehicle, it shifted slightly when the load lightened. Now there were only four hostages left in the cabin. That meant fewer people in immediate danger, but still plenty of people at risk. The van moved forward and stopped again. For a moment, Ali hoped Bill Witherspoon would take advantage of being outside and make a run for it, but he did not. The vehicle shifted again as the chief of staff returned, pulling the door shut behind him.