Raw Vengeance (The Rich Fordham Series) (13 page)

“
Are you fucking stupid? Why would you want to help me? You’re just messing with my head.”

“
Umm, no, but if we help you, you have a much better chance of not spending the rest of your life being somebody’s bitch. Am I right?” Reggie almost cracked a smile, but maintained the strained expression so he didn’t lose focus.

“
What you got in mind?”

Rich lived for a good volley. Time for the serve. “Well, no offense, but judging by your predicament, your escape plan got fucked.” Rich hated swearing, but he developed the attitude of
when in Rome
. He continued, “Take one or all of us. I guarantee SWAT is swarming over the building as we speak. I don’t care who you take, but they’re not going to take a shot if you have a hostage. Trust me. I have a van you can take, it’s gassed up, and ready to go.”
The bastard may just bite.
“You can be down there in five minutes.”

Reggie grimaced and weighed his options. The phone rang again and they ignored it.

“
You’re trying to trick me. I don’t trust no white trash folks.”

“
Look outside. Look on the other side of the door. You can surrender and hope a jury will be lenient because of your son, or you can take one of us. It’s your call.” The ball landed in his court, enabling him make his own decision.

Reggie paced back and forth for a minute before coming to a decision. He sweated profusely and wiped his hands on his jeans. Grabbing Tyler by the nape of his neck, he said, “If I’m going to die, you’re going to die with me.”

“
If you take Tyler, he’s a full foot shorter, making you an easier target,” Rich said. “Why don’t you take Gabe or me?”

Seeing his point, Reggie let Tyler go and placed his left hand on Rich’s shoulder and jabbed the gun into the back of his kidney. He marched him toward the door and ordered, “Open it slowly, and if you try anything, I’ll kill you.” Rich nodded.

Rich grabbed the door handle and pulled it toward him, half expecting a flurry of gunshots to pummel his body. Instead, all he heard was silence, and he saw the red lasers of a dozen guns trained on the man behind him. A jab of the gun to his back served to jockey him out of his trance. The pits of his white dress shirt had huge sweat stains doing little to hide his nerves.

“
Keep moving,” said the voice behind him.

Part one of his plan worked, making it possible for doctors to go in and treat Dan’s gunshot wounds. He did as he was instructed and found it difficult to concentrate on his next move.

They moved clumsily down the hallway while the SWAT team positioned themselves around them and the exits. The blood loss slowed Reggie’s movements, and he struggled to keep moving. His mind had already turned to mush and his speech slurred. The police gave them enough room so he wouldn’t feel like they were invading his space. The elevator appeared on the right, and Rich pressed the down button; the wait felt like torture.

“
Back off!” Reggie said to the officers. “If you guys don’t back behind the corner, I’ll put a bullet in his spine.” They slowly back-shuffled, but never lost sight of him.

The elevator beeped and its doors opened. Reggie turned his head to look inside to make sure there weren’t any SWAT laying in ambush. Satisfied, he pulled Rich in with him and made him push the button for the lobby. The doors closed painfully slow, but they finally descended the fifteen floors.

The doors opened to a sea of SWAT hiding behind various columns and black shields. A quick jab to the back again sent Rich stumbling forward, causing him to lose his balance. Then, he felt how powerful Reggie was; his grip on his shoulder held him firmly in place.

“
Stop right there!” came instructions from a bullhorn. “You are surrounded.” Reggie stopped and sized up the opponent and his chances of escaping.

Reggie’s weaknesses were his temper and his hatred of the cops. Combined, the two made for his last mistake.

Rich felt the grip on his shoulder increase and the pain in his back go away. In his peripheral vision, he saw movement and instantly knew what was about to happen. He tensed his body and inhaled deeply as Reggie raised the gun along the outside of his arm and aimed. It was the break he was waiting for. In a sudden motion, he grabbed Reggie’s wrist with both of his hands. With all of his strength, Rich pushed his shoulder laterally and backward into the inside of the other man’s bicep until they hit the wall. The first round fired directly ahead. Rich’s head and shoulder hit with enough force to almost make him lose his sweaty grip on Reggie’s wrist. As they struggled for the gun, Rich felt like a little boy being overpowered by a gorilla. Reggie reached around Rich’s body with his left hand and grabbed the bottom of the gun’s butt to regain control. Then Rich felt him lift the gun in an arc toward the ceiling. The gun fired again, this time directly up. It continued back toward their heads until the muzzle was upside-down, pointing just to the right of his head.

Then, he had a last second epiphany: Instead of fighting, he needed to let physics do the work for him. Timing was critical; if he was off by even a second, he’d be dead. Instead of pushing up, Rich pushed off with his left foot and shoved the man’s wrist with both hands to his right. Reggie fired the gun a third time. Death came suddenly—his lifeless body crumpled to the ground, then lay in a pool of blood.

Rich’s quick thinking saved his life. The bullet meant for Rich’s skull had torn a hole in the top of Reggie’s frontal cortex, killing him instantly.

As soon as Rich turned to look at the remains of his captor, he winced and looked away in disgust and shock. The gravity of the situation and how close he had come to dying finally sank in.

*****

Rich was mentally and physically exhausted, but he felt ready for more airtime. He stared at his tired face in the mirror in the men’s restroom, then ran cool water through his hair and splashed some on his face. The bloodshot eyes and bags underneath them screamed “addict.” Something bothered him, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. He dismissed the thought and went back to his original goal. This would be a defining moment in his life and career.

He made the short trip back to Dan’s room, where a doctor had wheeled him in after being operated on. The doctor noticed his entrance and talked while she worked. “Good, you’re back. I’m just finishing up. Dan took a nasty hit to the chest, but he’ll live.”

“
Isn’t he dead?”

“
Almost. God was watching out for him.”

“
That’s incredible. I saw him an hour ago, and I thought he was dead,” Rich admitted.

“
No, but he’ll be in and out of consciousness with the drugs we’ve administered.”

The doctor left him alone with Dan; it was the first calm moment he’d felt all day. Although they had just met, he felt like they already shared a special bond. He pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and made himself comfortable.

Dan sensed his presence and flickered his eyes just wide enough to let Rich know he was awake. In a rare show of compassion, Rich stretched his hand out and squeezed Dan’s hand. It felt warm and dry, but also leathery and callused from years of playing football.

“
You almost got me killed,” Dan said sarcastically in a whisper. He squeezed his hand even harder.

“
It’s good to have you back,” Rich said as he leaned over the bed. “I thought you were a goner, but the surgeons fixed you up.”

Dan remained silent. They sat for a few minutes, and then something unexpected happened—a single tear rolled down his cheek.

“
This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

The way he said it made Rich’s ears perk up. “Hmm? What—you getting shot up?” he asked to see if they were thinking about the same thing.

“
Yeah, but... he said... I promised...” Dan’s voice trailed off, and he let out a deep sigh. “Tyler, he...” Just as he tried to finish the sentence, Tyler, his bodyguards, and Dan’s parents walked in.

“
We’ll talk later. Tyler’s mom will be here in fifteen minutes,” Rich said as he pulled away, but Dan held on, not letting him go. Rich stood and leaned forward so Dan could whisper in his ear.

“
I can’t lie anymore,” Dan said. Then he closed his eyes and wept.

CHAPTER 19

Wayne Vale smiled inwardly as the WSNO helicopter transporting his news crew and Shantell Cogan’s staff began a shallow descent for the Mitchell Trauma Center. Since there was no quicker way to get her to the hospital, Wayne—who had control over network assets—–agreed to let her use the helicopter to see her son. In exchange for the free helicopter ride, Wayne gained exclusive rights to interview and discuss her reaction to her son’s plight.

An hour before, Shantell had received the news about the school shooting. Initially she was shocked, but shock immediately gave way to frustration and anger. Drama with her son was the last thing she needed. The press was already scouring her every move; negative publicity had a tradition of ruining campaigns of potential candidates.

Thinking about her son made Shantell unconsciously grimace. That, along with her fear of flying, made her vomit into her mouth.

Sitting directly across from her, Wayne picked up on her discomfort. He enjoyed the ride and debated how best to handle a mother in distress. If he interviewed her during the ride, he might come across as an insensitive jerk. If he played sympathetic and let her ride in peace, he’d be passing up a major opportunity. He also knew that Shantell had something to gain. If she appeared on camera as the grief-stricken mother, her constituents would eat up the drama and vote with their emotions. He decided it was time to test the waters.

Wayne leaned forward and asked in his rehearsed, pillow-talk voice, “How’re you holding up?”

“
Fine,” Shantell answered over the whir of the rotors and wind noise.

Wayne caught the lie through her strained expression. The lights of downtown Chicago were in view. “Let’s start filming in thirty seconds.”

Shantell shrugged and forced a smile in agreement. She elbowed her long-time assistant, Simone, to help and then adjusted her blouse and coat. Simone took out her small makeup kit and applied light foundation and powder to her boss’s face.

A vibration in Wayne’s pocket alerted him to a message on his phone. He quickly took it out and saw the call was coming from Sarah Kinney, his network producer. “What do you got?” he asked her.

“
Hey, Wayne, Rich is already on the scene talking with Shantell’s son, Tyler.” Wayne cursed at hearing Rich’s name, but continued listening. “When you get on scene, you’re both going to be taping. You know the drill.”

“
What the hell is he doing there? This is my story. I don’t want some neophyte fuck who thinks he’s God’s gift to be reporting there. He has nothing to offer. Get rid of him.”

Sarah was used to his power trips and decided what was best for the network. “Play nice with Rich, that’s all I’m saying,” she said sternly and hung up.

It took all of Wayne’s self-control not to throw his phone at the floor. “God damn it!” he said loud enough for everyone to hear.

A minute later, Wayne sat next to Shantell with a microphone in his hand. His camera-woman counted down and began filming live:

“
We have breaking news to detail to you tonight over the city of Chicago. I’m Wayne Vale, coming to you in an exclusive interview with Mayor Shantell Cogan, which you’ll only hear at WSNO News. Reports are unclear at the moment, but her son, Tyler Cogan, apparently has been involved in a school shooting that left several teenagers wounded. We have yet to hear of any confirmed deaths, but we’ll bring that to you live if it happens, God forbid. Mayor Cogan, tell us your thoughts.”

“
First, I want to say that my heart goes out to all the children and families involved. This is a tragic event, but one that I’m sure we’ll overcome,” said Shantell.

“
What are you feeling right now?”

“
I’ve only heard sketchy details, but I feel a tremendous amount of loss and empathy for those affected. All I can do is pray for the best outcome.”

“
What about your son?”

“
Tyler is such a brave young man. I love him so much and am so proud of him. I’ll do whatever it takes to help him out.”

With less than a minute until they touched down, Wayne came up with a strategy to sabotage Rich’s presence. All he needed was time and patience.

*****

With the help of her assistant, Shantell Cogan stepped carefully down the rungs of the WSNO helicopter. The propeller downwash turned her designer hairstyle into a gnarled mess. Her attire looked barely adequate for the late fall evening; she had returned from a campaign fundraiser wearing a white blouse with a charcoal-colored skirt and a light tan jacket. She pulled the jacket’s collar up in a lame attempt to block out the wind and cold. “I
hate
flying,” she said into her assistant’s ear. Her four bodyguards marched them away from the landing pad on the hospital roof toward the exit, two in front and two in back, while Simone took her usual spot to her right. If it weren’t for the stiffs, Shantell could have passed as any Washington lawyer. Wayne and his camerawoman stayed two strides ahead of the group as they filmed her entrance live.