Archer made it back to the 12th floor apartment safely and without incident, re-joining a relieved Vargas, Carson and Isabel in the sitting room. The girl had taken a dosage of the medication under Vargas’ watchful eye and was now curled up in an armchair, still recovering from the seizures. She’d been sick a couple of times during Archer’s absence and was pretty out of it; Archer had never encountered anyone with epilepsy before, so he followed Vargas’ lead and left the child alone, giving her some room and letting the aftermath of the seizure run its course. Apparently that was the best thing to do.
Watching Isabel, Vargas turned to him. ‘You see anyone down there?’
‘Don’t ask.’
‘What’s in the bag?’ she asked, pointing to his side. On his way out of Helen’s apartment, Archer had noticed a black holdall dumped on the floor, left by one of the two men who’d almost found him in the bathtub. Archer had quickly unzipped it, checking what was inside; after seeing what it contained, he’d decided to take it with him.
He unslung it carefully off his shoulder, lowering it to the floor, and unzipped it again so Vargas could see the contents.
Two Claymore mines were sitting inside the fabric, nestled side by side.
‘Jesus.’
‘Guess they didn’t need them. They might come in handy.’
She frowned and saw the detonator already connected to the blasting wire inside the holdall by a length of wire.
‘Wait, are they armed?’
He shook his head. ‘Just the clacker and the wire. Relax. It’s all good. You need to fit the blasting cap for it to explode.’
Placing the bag safely out of the way, Archer walked across the room to the sofa, kneeling by Carson. The wounded man was still conscious, but only just.
‘Welcome…back,’ he forced.
Archer nodded, patting him on the arm.
‘What’s…the situation…down there?’
‘We made it to the lobby through the elevator shaft earlier. I saw they’ve booby-trapped the door. They’ve used Claymore mines, the same as they did up on the roof. And there was something else against the wall.’
‘What…was it?’
‘It looked like an internet hub. I think it’s a phone jammer.’
‘You…need to turn it off,’ Carson said.
‘Jack’s right,’ Vargas said. ‘We need to warn the people outside. If they try a frontal assault, they’ll be cut to pieces.’
Archer checked his watch. It was just past 9 pm. ‘They’ve lost a lot of their guys,’ he said. ‘They’ll be getting desperate. You know who they are. Their dead buddies are scattered all over the building. Once CSU IDs them, the whole group will be convicted. They’ve got nothing to lose now.’
He paused.
‘Or they’ll cut their losses, gather up their dead guys and bail.’
‘No way,’ she said. ‘I know them. Not when I still have air in my lungs.’
There was a pause. In the quiet, they all noticed something, a sound coming from the hall. Archer turned and looked at Vargas.
‘You hear that?’
They listened closely. It was coming from the corridor.
‘What the hell?’ she said.
He thought for a moment then rose, moving out of the sitting room and making his way quietly towards the main door.
‘Wait!’ she hissed, following him. He turned to her, standing in the sitting room doorway; she shook her head.
‘It’s OK,’ he whispered.
He pulled the refrigerator back a foot and unclicked the lock.
The door opened a slit. Archer looked through the slender gap.
The corridor was empty.
But there was a sound coming over the intercom; it was muffled, but was constant and monotonous, electronic, some kind of beeping. Vargas joined him, listening by the jamb.
‘What the hell is that?’ she said.
Listening for a few moments longer, he eased the door shut and locked it.
‘I don’t know.’
Vargas looked at him, confused, then turned and took a quick look out of the window. She stiffened.
‘Oh shit.’
‘What?’
‘I think my people are coming in.’
He moved over and joined her; she was right. Down below, he could see a cluster of US Marshals in vests and with assault weapons. They were in a huddle which broke, people checking their weapons and moving towards the building.
‘They try to come in through the front door, the mines will kill them and half the people on the street.’
‘We can’t just walk down there and tell them to hold off.’
‘We stay here, they die!’
‘We move, we could die.’
They looked at each other; neither option was appealing.
‘We’ve got to do something!’ she said.
They rushed back into the sitting room; Carson was looking over towards them anxiously.
‘What’s…happening?’
‘A Marshals task force outside are preparing to come in. We need to stop them. They’ll get blown to pieces.’
Isabel had stirred and was blinking up at Vargas, who looked down at the little girl.
‘We need you to stay here with Jack, honey. We won’t be gone long.’ Isabel tried to sit up. Vargas moved forward, kneeling down and hugging her. ‘What we’re doing means we can get out of here once and for all. Jack will protect you.’
By the couch, Archer looked down at Carson. ‘Sure you’re up to it?’
Gritting his teeth, Carson nodded. ‘I could…do with giving some…payback.’
Hugging Isabel one last time, Vargas rose. The two of them hustled to the door. Vargas looked back as Isabel moved off her chair and joined Carson by the couch, the wounded man holding his Glock in his left hand. He reached over with his right and took her hand, the girl looking over at Vargas, unsure.
‘We’ll be back soon,’ Vargas said. ‘I promise.’
FORTY THREE
Down on the street, the Marshals team had finally had enough. Hobbs had been on the phone for most of the past two hours, first explaining to his senior officers what had happened to his team on the roof and the chopper, then trying to figure out a plan for a secondary approach. The police commissioner had arrived, been filled in on the situation and was talking with the senior NYPD men on the ground, also trying to come up with a solution to the stand-off. Two other ESU teams had arrived but they were being ordered to hold back; no more NYPD choppers were going near the building unless ordered, and that sure as hell wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
Dalton’s group was a separate issue. They were a Federal team and had jurisdiction here, and he’d decided it was time to get inside the building once and for all. Their two helicopters were back from an operation in Long Island, but after what had happened to the ESU vessel, the pilots were understandably reluctant to fly anywhere near the building carrying a team on what could well turn out to be a suicide mission.
That meant they were going in from the ground.
Dalton was mid-briefing when Hendricks and Shepherd approached him. He sensed their urgency and broke off from what he was saying, motioning to his team to give him one moment. He moved off to one side with the two men, Dalton’s team watching him expectantly.
‘What’s going on?’ Shepherd asked.
‘We’re going in.’
‘That’s not wise. They put down ESU with Claymore mines and a rocket launcher,’ Shepherd said. ‘Who knows what kind of weapons they’ve got in there?’’
‘We have no alternative. It’s time to end this thing.’
‘Listen. These men aren’t after the child,’ Hendricks said. ‘This is something else.’
Dalton looked at him. ‘How could you possibly know that?’
‘I went downtown; grilled Mike Lombardi. He has no idea what this is about.’
‘Are you kidding me? You went down there and told him the whereabouts of our only witness in his trial?’
Hendricks didn’t reply. Dalton’s expression changed, hardening.
‘You know what, from now on we’ll handle this,’ he said. ‘This is a Federal situation; stay the hell out of it.’