Benson picked up the receiver of the police radio and squeezed. “For those of you listening in the van, you have failed.”
“Kyle, this is Chief Tolland. I implore you to stop your vehicle so we can discuss this,” Rich’s desperate voice shot through the radio.
Benson clicked the radio again and responded, “I will only negotiate with JP Warner. I know he’s in your vehicle.”
Chapter 85
The young FBI agents looked at each other with confusion-Benson’s surprise request wasn’t in the manual. I was sure the same blank looks were going on in the van. So I did what I always do-I took the initiative.
I limped to the police radio in the command center and picked up. “Yeah, I’m here, Jones.”
I visualized the angry look on Hawkins’ face, but I didn’t care. Some two-bit bureaucrat wasn’t going to be able to save Gwen. It would take someone willing to put his life on the line for her. That person wasn’t Agent Hawkins.
“If you ever want to see Gwen Delaney again, I suggest you keep the van at a safe distance.”
“If you harm one hair on her head, I will break every bone in your body. Then I’ll wait for them to heal and break them again!”
“I think you are overrating your negotiating leverage. Now back off the van!”
I stood and kicked a row of historical books in disgust, spilling them to the ground in a clutter of dust. But when I observed the feed of the surveillance camera shooting from the front of the van, I noticed that they were actually getting closer!
Benson must have noticed the same thing, because he lashed out, “I said back it off or you will never see her again!”
I scrambled for my phone, but came up empty. I’d left my phone in North Carolina. And then Agent Hawkins had confiscated the new one I’d purchased as part of the babysitting guidelines. So I went to Plan-B. I turned to Officer Williams, who seemed like a better option than the two feds, and demanded his cell. He surprisingly handed it to me.
I panic-dialed Rich Tolland, who answered on the second ring. “Back the van off!” I yelled into the phone and ended the call.
Silence filled the airwaves, before Benson responded, “I’m glad to see you are being sensible, Warner.”
They had backed off. I felt relief.
The cat and mouse game was all well and good, but I had to get into the fight. I demanded Officer Williams give me the keys to his police cruiser. He didn’t look as willing this time. And on top of it, the two young agents stepped in and announced that their orders were to not let me out of their sight.
I didn’t have time for this, so I apologized to Williams. Before he could ask why, I punched him across the face. I struck him clean and a fountain of blood spilled over my mother’s carpet. I was never going to hear the end of that. I scooped up his gun and aimed it at Ellsworth. I held it on his temple and shouted at Williams, “Give me the keys or the kid dies.”
Nobody ever confused me with Jack Bauer. Within seconds, Agent Justice performed some wrestling move on me that Carter would have been proud of, and snatched my gun.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. So I pulled a new technique from the Sutcliffe bag of tricks-begging. “Please, we don’t have time. Gwen’s life is at stake!”
I could tell they were paralyzed by a moral dilemma. Which was more than I expected. Williams finally relented and tossed his keys to me.
Justice lowered his gun, and before anyone could change their mind, I once again ran toward the danger.
Chapter 86
Charleston, South Carolina
The videophone connection was poor, but it couldn’t wipe the smile off Byron Jasper’s face. He’d been sick with worry since hearing the news of the disappearance of Gwen and Big Ugly.
After the initial excitement of the video reunion, reality began to set in. Figuring a way to get Gwen and Carter safely out of that house, before they succumbed to Benson, hunger, the hurricane, or some combination, would be no easy task. The island had been evacuated and all transportation was cut off, including emergency response.
Gwen made it clear the top priority should be to reach JP as soon as possible, and let him know that Benson was planning to use her to lure him into his web. So Byron kept the hostages on the videophone while he dialed JP’s cell.
“Who dis?” came an annoyed greeting from someone who definitely wasn’t JP Warner.
“I think the better question would be who are you?”
“The name’s Lamar Thompson. I got a tour to give, so I got no time for your games. This ain’t even my phone, so make it quick.”
Byron was confused. “I’m sorry, I was looking for JP Warner.” But then something clicked. “Is this the Lamar Thompson who was the greatest basketball player I’ve ever seen?”
“That was a long time ago, man. And I already told you people, no more interviews. Especially that crazy blonde lady.”
Byron was baffled. “Lamar, what are you doing with JP’s phone?”
“He came here, bought me lunch, and then left like a bat out of hell. I didn’t steal no cell phone.”
“I didn’t say you did. I was just trying to get in touch with JP. My name is Byron, I’m a friend of his. It’s very important that I talk to him.”
“Then why you calling me?”
There was no time to explain, reason, or argue. “Lamar, I need your help … where are you located?”
“Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. First in flight, last in avoiding hurricanes.”
“The best flight I ever saw was when you took off from behind the foul line to dunk on Charleston High. I remember they jammed so many people in there to see you that night the game almost got shut down for violating the fire code.”
“That was a long time ago, man. It was nice talking to a fellow Carolina guy, but I gotta go.”
Byron needed to keep him on the line, and kept laying it on thick. “Maybe so, Lamar, but once a clutch player, always a clutch player. I need a clutch player to help me right now.”
“Man, the only clutch I got now is in my car. And even that don’t work no more.”
“You’re talking crazy-greatness is for life, you don’t lose it. I need your help, Lamar,” Byron pleaded.
Lamar sighed. “Listen, man, I’ll get this JP dude his phone back, okay? My word is good. It better be, it’s all I got left.”
“If you don’t help me, Lamar, people are going to die.”
“Now who’s talkin’ crazy?”
“People I know are trapped in a house on Ocracoke Island. You are my last shot to get them out alive.”
“I don’t got no time for this.”
Byron had no choice but to play dirty. “It’s not a coincidence that you ended up with JP’s phone. This is your chance to make up for the death of Marilyn Lacey. I know you’ve been waiting to make up for that for years, Lamar. Now is your chance-are you going to let it just slip away?”
“There’s a hurricane doing something fierce down here. Even if I wanted to, the island’s been evacuated … not even the police can go there.”
“Lamar, people are going to die if you don’t act now!”
He went silent-he was thinking about it. “Why don’t you go?” he finally asked
“I would, but I’m in a wheelchair.”
One thing Byron had learned from a few months in the chair was how guilt could be used as an advantage. And he would need every advantage he could in order to get Lamar to Ocracoke.
It was clear that Lamar Thompson was Gwen and Carter’s only chance-a man nobody believed in for twenty years, and worse still, didn’t believe in himself.
Chapter 87
Rockfield
I tore out of the parking lot in Officer Williams’ squad car. I took the radio receiver into my hand and squeezed so hard that I thought I might crush it. “You wanted me, Jones, now you’ve got me. Your move.”