The Cost of Commitment - KJ2 (33 page)

again, she thought of Jay, her beautiful face shining brightly like a beacon.

The five CERT team leaders, the prison superintendent, Paul Monroe, Randy Garston, David Breathwaite, and William Redfield were packed into the tiny makeshift command center.

“Sir, we’ve ID’ed all eight inmates. They’re all from D block, ten company.” Max Kingston handed each man a folder with the eight dossiers in it.

“Wonderful. Four murderers, two rapists, one bank robber, and a kidnapper. Lovely crew.”

“We’ve also identified the three officers on that tier who haven’t responded to any radio contact.” A second set of folders made the rounds.

There were grim faces as the men looked at three young, fresh-faced officers, all with wives and small children.

“They are all relatively inexperienced. For two of them, this is their first posting.”

Redfield glanced once at Breathwaite, contempt and accusation in his eyes.

Garston picked up the briefing. “The Technical Services Unit is on-site. Now that we’ve narrowed down the hostages’ likely location we can send tech in with the fiber optic equipment to pinpoint the exact coordinates, then come up with a course of action.”

Unable to muster any good argument against the plan, Redfield gave the go-ahead.

“Report back directly to me at ten bells sharp. We’ll reconvene once I have all the facts.”

Governor Hyland arrived unannounced at 9:17 a.m. He did not go directly to the prison, stopping instead at a nondescript motel some three miles down the road.

“Brian, Peter.”

“Governor, sir.” Both men stood.

“I know it’s a bit unorthodox for me to consult with you two before my own team, but the truth is, this is no time for protocol. What we need are results. Redfield has been on the job for less than a month, and there are lives at stake.” He looked from his old friend to the technology expert on whom he had relied so many times during the course of his tenure in office.

The Cost of Commitment

Former DOCS Commissioner Sampson said, “Governor, sir, if I step in at this point, it will undermine Bill’s authority and add to the tension and confusion.”

The governor appeared chagrined. “Understood. I’ll ask you to stay here, though, so that I can continue to consult with you as needed.” When Sampson looked uncertain, Hyland added, “Brian, I chose you as my commissioner for a reason. That hasn’t changed. I trust your knowledge and judgment and I need you with me now.”

“I’ll be here.”

The governor turned to Peter. “My understanding is that you’re available for hire as a consultant. Is that not so?”

“It’s so.”

“In that case, consider yourself hired.”

“What is my exact role, sir?”

“I want you in charge of the rescue operation.”

“As you wish, sir.” To himself Peter added,
Well, that makes things
much easier.

“Let’s get going. There’s no time to waste.”

“I’ll be right with you, sir. I just need to gather my gear.”

When the governor had walked out the door, Sampson asked Peter,

“Are you going to tell him about the bug in the command center?”

“Not yet. I’m not convinced we’ve heard everything we need to hear yet. I’d like to keep that as an ace in the hole—see if there’s anything more to be gleaned from future conversations. I have a sneaking suspicion there’ll be more to this before it’s done.”

“In that case, I’ll keep listening and recording at this end.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate that. The more evidence, the better. I’ll check in with you when I can.”

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Bring them all out safely.”

“That’s my goal.”

“It’s against every policy we have. Absolutely not.” Redfield was sitting behind the sergeant’s desk in B block.

“You want those three officers out of harm’s way or not?”

Breathwaite leaned forward, his hands splayed on the opposite side of the desk.

“Of course.”

“The object here is to kill Kyle and extract them safely. I’m just giving you a way to get that done.”

Lynn Ames

“It will impact the way DOCS handles hostage situations for years to come.”

“At the moment, Willy, we don’t care about anything but this specific hostage situation, now, do we?”

Redfield chewed his lip. He could not live with himself if those three officers were lost on his watch, but his options were severely limited. He had spent the last half hour trying to come up with some way to extricate them without bringing Kate out. It would look far too suspicious to allow the inmates to keep a member of the management team while letting the others go free.

But what if Breathwaite was right? What if he could position it to appear that the inmates would agree only to let the three guards go in exchange for sending in a reporter with a television camera? Maybe that would be a reasonable explanation.

“Okay. I’ll get the Inmate Liaison Committee in here to make it look legitimate. We’ll have them present the offer to the eight inmates. Do you have a way of contacting them directly?”

“Don’t go through the ILC. I have an ex-inmate I’m working with.

I’ll have him give them the instructions. I’ve got him stashed nearby. If he goes in there, they’ll know the order is coming from me.”

“If I don’t use the ILC, it might raise more questions.”

“If you do go through them, there’s no guarantee the eight will know where the order is coming from. Not only that, but it means involving more inmates in the plan. I don’t think that’s wise, do you?”

“I haven’t liked the plan from the beginning. This was your insane idea.”

“Insane or not, you’re stuck with it now, Willy. It would behoove you to make the best of it.”

Kate slowly became aware of her surroundings once again. This time the noise level was much greater. She could hear groups of inmates fighting amongst themselves, and she struggled to make out their words.

“Man, you keep your filthy hands off my shit. If I catch you in my cell again touchin’ my props I’ll kill you.”

“If you was any good at killin’, asshole, you wouldn’t be in here.”

She could make out the clear sound of a skull hitting concrete and other bodies running in the direction of the sound. There was shouting and a loud whistling noise.

“Cut the crap. We don’t have time for this.”

“Who died and put you in charge, Kumar?”

“Do you forget that it was I who liberated you? I could just as easily have let you rot in your little holes.”

The Cost of Commitment

“You got a plan for getting us out of this place?”

“I have gotten you this much freedom. The rest, I’m afraid, is up to you.”

Kate could hear footsteps coming closer; she closed her eyes and feigned unconsciousness again. The footsteps paused in front of her cell, then moved past and receded in the distance.

After several moments, when she was sure she was alone, she opened her eyes and surveyed her surroundings. Judging by the movement and sounds on either side, it was clear to her that she was in the middle of a tier. She knew from past visits to Attica that each tier had only one exit, located at the end opposite the lock box that controlled access to the cells. The exit, or go-round, was the only way out, as far as she knew, and she imagined the inmates had done something to barricade the door from the inside. It was hard to fathom how, even if she weren’t injured, she could get out of her cell, elude forty-two inmates, make it to the go-round, and escape the tier.

She could only hope that help from the outside was on the way. She thought about Redfield. Were she and Peter right?
Was
he working with Breathwaite? It was obvious that Breathwaite was not working alone and that Sampson’s coerced resignation was tied to bringing him back to DOCS. Installing Redfield must have been intended to clear the way for that to happen. Add that to the incident with Marisa, and the conclusion seemed a logical one.

Kate sighed. With Redfield and Breathwaite working together, was there any chance that she would be rescued? Or that an attempt would even be made? She thought about Jay, and her heart lurched wildly in her chest. Would an angry conversation be the last memory Jay would have of her? The idea made her nauseous. She would not allow her lover to know the kind of regret and guilt that she herself carried with her every day.

Kate had no concept of time or how much of it had passed since she’d been taken hostage. She stared at the shattered watch that hung loosely on her broken wrist. It didn’t matter in the end, she supposed. Whatever day it was, it was close to the holiday. If she were murdered during this siege, every Christmas for the rest of Jay’s life would be as painful as Kate’s had been after her parents had died.

It was an ache that neither died nor diminished over time. It was a scar that could never heal, because Kate could never change what had happened—could never reverse the clock and make it all turn out differently—could never bring her parents back. Just as Jay would never be able to change the tenor of their heated conversation and would likely blame and punish herself for it for the rest of her time on Earth.

Lynn Ames

Despairing, Kate ran her good hand through her hair. It came away covered in sticky, drying blood. She looked at it for a long moment, turning it over in the dull light from the barred window across the gallery. She would not die here. She could not let Jay carry such a burden with her. She would live to tell Jay how much she loved her and that nothing else mattered. She would find a way out, with or without help.

The Cost of Commitment

The Tech Services boys snaked the minuscule cable through the heat ducts, around corners, and through grates. The process was slow, painstaking, and repetitive. Finally, twenty-three minutes and twelve cells after they had begun, they spotted their first target. Using the shutter, they snapped off several photographs, moving the cable at various angles to be sure they had as much of the environment as they could get without being detected.

When they were satisfied that they had gotten everything they could, they carefully removed the cable.

“Three down, one to go.”

“Convenient of them to leave all three officers in one cell, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, except that, by our calculation, this one is twenty cells away from the go-round.”

“Fantastic.”

“You didn’t think they were going to make it easy for us, did you?”

“It would’ve been nice, just this once.”

“Let’s go find the other target.”

Another seventeen minutes later they were done and on their way back to the command center.

“What we have here are two insertion points: one in cell one and another in cell eleven.” Max Kingston pointed to the enlarged images in the center of the conference table. “The three officers are, fortunately for us, grouped together. The bad news is that they are at the end of the tier farthest from the go-round.”

“Gotta give the inmates credit for some brains after all, I guess.”

Lynn Ames

“Ms. Kyle, according to our calculations, is located in cell eleven, right in the middle of the tier. She appears to be by herself.”

“Can we get any idea of injuries or conditions on any of the four?”

“Unfortunately, the quality of the pictures is somewhat grainy and we were unable to ascertain anything other than location.”

“Commissioner,” Randy Garston interjected, “we can mount an exercise using the CS gas—”

“No,” Redfield interrupted. “It would be too risky.”

“But, sir—”

“No. I want to see what we can do through diplomacy before we rush in there.” Noting the stunned faces around the room, he quickly added,

“The last thing we want is another 1971 on our hands. I want all the CERT teams standing by on alert. I’ll let you know if the situation warrants action once I’ve exhausted my other possibilities.”

Redfield shifted uncomfortably as Randy Garston continued to stare at him in shock.

“Bill—”

“Randy,” Redfield snapped. “This is my show, and I’m going to run it my way. Live with it.”

“Yes, sir,” Garston ground out through gritted teeth as he pivoted and strode from the room, nearly running over Breathwaite on his way out the door.

“Your boy Randy’s not happy with your decisions.”

Redfield felt a little sick to his stomach. “Neither am I, David.

Where’s your contact man?”

“He’s ready.”

“How are we supposed to send him in with the message?”

“I have an officer who will deliver him.”

“We’re going to put another officer in jeopardy?”

“No, he’s been acting as a go-between for weeks.”

“Very clever.”

“Thank you, Willy,” Breathwaite said smugly. “Not only that, but he’ll escort the journalists as well. That way we can be sure there won’t be any stupid heroics.”

“Just take care of it. I won’t be able to hold the CERT teams off forever.” He turned his back, effectively dismissing Breathwaite.

Breathwaite approached the large gathering of reporters, many of whom had been milling around or talking amiably.

“The inmates have agreed to release the three officers they hold hostage in exchange for a televised opportunity to express their demands.

The Cost of Commitment

They have also consented to letting us film the remaining hostage so that we may determine that she is alive.”

There was a chorus of voices. “I’ll go in.”

“Send us.”

“No, we should be the ones.”

“Quiet. We’ll do this my way. Ashton, you’re the one.”

“I’m not a television journalist.”

“That’s obvious,” he hissed. “You’re going, and you’re taking the CNN videographer with you.”

There was an uproar of outrage from the journalists who would be left standing on the outside. This was the assignment of a lifetime—the kind that careers were made of.

“Come with me.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now, Ashton. Time is wasting and lives are at stake.”

Breathwaite resisted the urge to smile. It made him giddy to see the fear in the reporter’s eyes. While it might be the opportunity that could make a future, it could just as easily end a life. He wished he could accomplish that, too. It would have been nice to take out a second dyke bitch in the process. Alas, he would have to satisfy himself with Kyle’s death and using Ashton and the cameraman as the vehicle to cause further pain to Kyle’s girlfriend.