JACK
Warehouses. Why did kidnappers love warehouses so damn
much? Maybe they watched too many corny movies, with shootouts galore and bad
guys ducking behind old shipping crates. Or maybe there was a website
Kidnappers’R’Us with lists of abandoned buildings where you could stash a
victim. Maybe warehouses were abandoned more often than other buildings, though
God only knew why.
Maybe, Jack thought, his imagination was working overtime
while he stood here in the semi-darkness, waiting.
‘I’m in place, Jack.’ Viv’s voice whispered through the
silence, and he nodded curtly even though she couldn’t possibly see him. He
thumbed the safety off his gun, and eased forward in the darkness, lifting his
glorified walkie-talkie to murmur, ‘Okay guys, move in.’
He couldn’t hear a damn thing, but he trusted his team.
They’d be moving in, he knew, sliding through the darkness as discussed, as
planned. Approaching the little office where their victim was he very much
hoped being held captive. Alive.
He’d never admit it, but he hated this. Hated the darkness
because, of course, you couldn’t advertise your presence by anything as
logical as bright lights and the secrecy, and knowing that if you tripped, if
you made a noise, a teenage girl might die. Hell you might die, depending on
how jumpy and how accurate the kidnapper was.
Hated knowing that, before the night was out, you might end up shooting
a twenty year old idiot in front of a terrified fifteen year old.
Nights like these, he hated his job.
Of course, it would be worth it later, when they returned
the girl to her parents. It was always worth it to see the tears of joy in a
father’s eyes, a mother clinging tightly to her child, a kid crying in pent-up
fear and relief.
Jack edged carefully past a stack of crates didn’t
anyone ever clean a warehouse out before they left it? and got the little
office in his line of sight. He could see a light shining dully through the
doorway, and what looked like someone pacing close to but not in front of
the door. Towards the left, he caught a glimpse of blonde hair, and knew that
Samantha was close.
He pulled his gaze away, and forced himself to focus. To
the right, he noticed, there was movement as well. Martin, he calculated,
because Vivian and Danny should be hanging back, blocking the exits. He wondered, briefly, if there was something
almost Freudian about bringing the three of them together like this him,
Samantha, Martin, creeping up on the kidnapper, in the danger seats, so to
speak.
But he didn’t have time to think about that.
The light in the office at least increased visibility a
bit. He eased forward, trying to keep in the shadows as much as he could, and
waited until Samantha looked in his direction. He raised his hand cautiously
and gestured. Go, he thought. GO!
A split second later, Hell erupted, and he realised his
mistake. Martin hadn’t quite been in
place. Hadn’t quite reached the safe point from behind which he was supposed to
cover Samantha. But she couldn’t see that, couldn’t see him, and she swung into
action because Jack had told her to. Because he was in charge, and he could
see.
So Samantha shouted her warning FBI! Drop your weapon!
without cover, and while Martin was still exposed, still only part way across
the big open space near the office.
Jack froze.
The kidnapper snapped to attention, swung his pistol
wildly between the two agents.
Martin brought his weapon up, sharply, realising his
danger, realising Samantha’s danger.
The girl screamed.
The kid with the gun panicked, let off a wild shot which,
thank God, buried itself harmlessly into a wall.
Samantha tensed, realising that her back up, her partner,
was not in place.
Jack couldn’t move.
Then everything happened fast. Martin improvised, running
forward to stand beside Samantha. Gun up, voice calm, he shouted at the
boy. Drop your weapon! Drop it! The boy
looked wildly from one to the other, stepped further back into the office. He
half turned towards the girl, but two shots rang out. Bang! Bang! The girl
screamed again, and the stupid twenty year old kid hit the floor. Martin
dropped to his knees, and Jack found himself running forward, running towards
the office. He could smell blood, but there was sweat pouring in his eyes and
he couldn’t quite see what was happening. Who was shot.
He reached the doorway, and his world settled again. The
boy was dead. He could see that in an instant. A large chunk of his chest had
been blown away, and there was no point even calling for an ambulance. Martin
was kneeling in front of the girl, working at the knots binding her to the
chair, trying to get her out and away from the horror. Samantha was calling
Danny and Viv, following procedure, calling for assistance to secure the scene.
Jack stood behind them, feeling helpless. Feeling stupid.
Christ, he could have got her killed. His gut lurched, thinking of Samantha
stretched out dead in a morgue, dead because of him and his inability to
concentrate when it mattered most.
He watched silently as Danny and Viv arrived, watched Viv
take the girl away, and listened to Martin giving directions to the crime scene
techs. He waited until Samantha was alone for a moment, then approached her.
‘Samantha - ‘ Let me explain. It won’t happen again. Your
back-up wasn’t in place because I was too focused on you, on this situation
between us, to pay attention to Martin. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. The
words died before they reached his mouth, because she wasn’t paying attention
to him at all.
She gave him a tight smile, then pushed past and walked
over to Martin. She touched his shoulder, and said something that Jack couldn’t
quite hear. Something that made Martin smile.
And Jack Malone realised, with a jolt that sent nausea
sweeping through his gut, that she wasn’t thinking about him at all. She didn’t
give a damn about his split second mistake, or his explanations, and she didn’t
even seem to notice that he was standing around like a stuffed moose, silent
and useless. He was obsessed with what had happened, with the tension between
the three of them, but she wasn’t.
She only noticed Martin.
SAMANTHA
She could smell blood, which always made her faintly
queasy. She could see the youthful kidnapper’s body, covered in a red-stained
sheet, sprawled on the floor where her bullet and Martin’s had intersected to
blow his chest apart. She imagined there would be an inquest, an internal
investigation, several reams of paperwork to fill in.
But somehow she didn’t care.
When the kid had fired his single shot, she had known it
wouldn’t hit her. She could see his eyes looking past her in rage and fear,
staring back over her shoulder. And her first thought had been Martin!
Her heart was still racing at the thought of what might
have been, but her brain was racing along an entirely different track. Martin
shouldn’t have been behind her. The only way he could have been behind her was
if he wasn’t in position when she moved which was odd in itself, seeing as
Jack had given her the signal to go ahead so logically speaking she shouldn’t
have been worried about him. If anything, that instant flash of worry should
have been for Jack, who she knew was behind her and who the kid could quite
possibly have spotted.
But it wasn’t.
Her only thought had been for Martin.
She looked across at him, standing talking to one of the
crime scene technicians. He gestured slightly, said something she couldn’t
quite hear, and made the technician laugh. Unable to help herself, she smiled.
A few days ago, she had been happy just to be alive, happy with her decision to
go with the flow.
Today, that happiness seemed like a mere drop in the
ocean, because today Martin was alive. He might not have been, but he was.
Maybe there would be trouble later about the shooting, maybe the dead young
man’s family would be devastated, maybe the young victim would be traumatised
from seeing it but Martin was alive.
And the fact that thinking it made her heart skip a beat
and her lips curve irresistibly made her realise something else. Something very
important.
She eased away from the crime scene, and starting walking
towards Martin. Jack stepped up to her and looked like he was about to say
something, but she ignored him. This wasn’t about him any more, and maybe it
never had been.
Martin moved away from the crime scene technician, and she
intercepted him deftly. ‘Hey.’
‘Hey, yourself.’ He always had a smile for her, she
realised, and he didn’t care who saw it. Or what they might think. She kept
walking, nudging him gently away from the crowd of people around the crime
scene. He followed without question.
‘God, it’s a circus in here.’ She looked around at the
swarming mass of law enforcement personnel, then turned back to Martin. ‘I’m
glad you’re okay.’
‘You and me both,’ he said, sobering. ‘You scared me for a
minute then, moving in like then when I wasn’t ready.’
She shrugged. ‘Jack gave me the signal, so I assumed it
was safe. He must have lost you in the shadows.’
He nodded. ‘I guess so.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Will I,
uh, see you tonight?’
‘Is that an offer?’
He gave her that special smile he reserved just for her.
‘Always.’
She smiled back at him, and the happiness she was feeling
bubbled so far up in her chest she just couldn’t hold it in anymore. She leaned
in close, dropped her voice, and led with her heart. ‘I think I might be
falling in love with you, Martin.’
He stared at her. ‘Sam - ‘
She hushed him, gently. ‘I probably shouldn’t have said
that here,’ she told him, still smiling. ‘But I couldn’t seem to help myself.’
‘I - ‘
She hushed him again. She knew how he felt, had known it
almost from the beginning, but she didn’t want him to say it here and now. If
he did, there was a nasty chance this conversation wouldn’t stay private for
long, and she desperately wanted it to. She glanced over her shoulder. ‘They
don’t need us here anymore.’ There would be more to worry about tomorrow more
paperwork, more questions, more press but for now there was nothing more they
could do. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
Jack was nowhere to be found, so they detoured past Viv to
let her know they were leaving. She nodded absentmindedly, and they left the
warehouse together. Outside, the air was cold and crisp, and the night sky
stretched above them like black velvet. Police cruisers with flashing lights
were parked around the main entrance, and TV cameras were already starting to
gather beyond the police barricade.
Sam and Martin made a dash for their car and, because at
that moment the kidnapper’s body was wheeled out in a body bag, made it with no
interference from anyone. Sam slid behind the wheel, tugged her seatbelt on,
and turned the key in the ignition.
‘You want to come to my place tonight?’ she asked, and
hoped the question sounded as casual as she wanted it to. ‘For a change?’
He twisted in his seat and grinned at her. ‘They say a
change is as good as a holiday.’
She smiled as she pulled away from the warehouse, smiled
still as she turned left down the highway. She’d take him home tonight, she
thought, and show him her big, lonely bed. She wouldn’t worry anymore that
Jack’s lingering ghost hovering in the room, complicating matters, because he
didn’t matter anymore.
Maybe he never really had.
Either way, he didn’t matter now. Now, Sam thought as she
flipped on the radio and settled in for the drive, now there was just Martin.
And she wouldn’t have it any other way.
End.
