Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #4: Books 13-16 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (read aloud books TXT) 📗

flashing, reflecting red and blue off the wet sidewalks and the asphalt. Uniforms were running, cordoning off the area.

“Call your bitch of a wife over here.”

“No.”

“This schmuck gets it!”

I saw the man’s eyes go wide with terror. I stared Lenny in the eyes. “It’s a line I won’t cross. Shoot him and before he hits the floor, you’ll be dead. Shoot me if you want. I’m not calling Dehan over here.”

His tongue flicked over his dry lips. “Tell her to call off these troops out here. I want a car, with the key in the ignition, and the engine running, full gas tank. You’re coming with me.”

“OK, we can do that, just let this man go.”

“Uh-uh, tell her, then I let him go.”

I turned my back on him. Dehan was fifteen or twenty paces away, watching me. Another fifteen paces behind her was an army of uniformed cops in dark blue with body armor, and a similar number of troops in battle dress. I called to her.

“Call off the guys outside. We need a car, full gas tank, key in the ignition and engine running. I’m going as hostage. He’s letting this guy go.”

I turned and took a step toward him. I was maybe five feet away now. I could see sweat on his face. He had the gun pressed to the back of the man’s head again. I said, “OK, Lenny. I did what you said. Now let the man go.”

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head again. “I want you in cuffs, and I wanna see all those troops moved. The minute I let this guy go, they’ll put a bullet through my skull.”

“Not if you put your weapon down. You made a big mistake doing this, Lenny. Now you need to come back from the edge and we can work something out. Just lay down the weapon, and let the man go.”

“Take a hike, Stone.” He looked over his shoulder, out at the cops and the troops ranging around the exit. They were beginning to move back.

I inched forward. “You promised to let him go, Lenny. If you don’t let him go, there will be no more concessions. They won’t trust you. Let him go.”

“Where’s the car? When I have the car, I’ll let him go.”

“Have you thought this through, Lenny? For crying out loud, you’re a cop! How many hostage situations have you seen where the hostage taker gets away? It doesn’t happen. You know that.”

He screamed suddenly, “Shut up! I said shut up!”

“OK, I’ll shut up, but I wish you’d think of your kids. You want them to see you get shot on TV?”

“Shut up!”

He thrust the gun at me. It was what I had been hoping he would do. I had closed the distance and I was slightly more than three feet away, so the gun was right in my face. It was all or nothing, right then.

I stepped forward with my left foot, taking myself out of his line of fire. Simultaneously I slammed my left hand hard down on his wrist and seized the barrel of the gun hard in my right, levering up as I did so. There was a loud report and a shot went off, up into the vault above. I tore the gun from his hand, I heard his hostage scream and his legs started kicking. I knew as long as Lenny had hold of this guy I couldn’t point a gun at him. So I heaved my two hundred and twenty pounds at them both, unbalancing them and making them both stagger backward. At the last second, as they were falling, I grabbed the hostage by the scruff of his neck and heaved him back toward me. The whole thing took no more than a couple of seconds. But as I pulled the man back, he clutched at my arm with frantic fingers, screaming hysterically as he did it. I hurled him away, trying to free my arm. The barrel of the gun caught in his jacket and his flailing arms knocked it out of my hands. I shoved him again and as he fell back, his foot kicked the pistol away from me.

Lenny was sprawled on his back. I made for him, but he was already scrambling to his feet, reaching for the weapon. I pulled mine from my holster. Behind me, I could hear boots running. I knew Dehan was coming up fast. I shouted, “Stay back! He is armed! Stay back!”

He fired two shots wildly and ran for the sliding doors. I shot at his legs as he ran, but I was off balance and he was moving fast. I missed. Then I ran, too. Outside it was still raining hard. He was drenched in seconds, but he was fit, light on his feet and fast. I went after him, shouting for him to stop, but I was hampered by my coat, which was heavy and wet. He was getting away from me, and up ahead I could see where the cops had made a barrier with their cruisers. The lights were flashing red and blue and the officers were using the roofs and hoods to steady their aim. I shouted at them, waving my arms, “Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” And then, “Lenny, for God’s sake, they’re going to shoot you!”

Next thing, he had veered sharply left and was running for the edge of the road, where it was a sheer drop down to the next level, forty or fifty feet below. I bellowed at him to stop. He fired wildly at me again and I dropped to the road for cover. Then he was running again and I was going after him. I saw that several of the cops had broken from their barricade and were sprinting toward us.

I clambered to my feet again and went after him.