The Law Of Three: A Rowan Gant Investigation (30 page)

Across the bottom of the tube, a stylized
graphic cut a colorful streak; culminating on the left in the
station logo. Words were emblazoned across the stripe, spelling out
in slanted block letters, BREAKING NEWS.

I felt Felicity next to me as she slipped her
arm in around my own then interlaced her fingers with mine and
squeezed. Her other hand slipped across and closed in an
unrelenting grip on my bicep.

With my free hand, I clicked the volume back
up a notch as we both stared at the event playing out on the
screen.

“…
Shortly after six this evening,” the
reporter’s voice-over faded in as I continued to mash the button
and brought the sound up to a more discernible level. “An apparent
car-jacking led to a high-speed chase which involved officers from
five separate municipalities, as well as the Missouri Highway
Patrol, Saint Louis County, and the Metropolitan Saint Louis Police
department.”

“Car-jacking my ass,” Ben muttered from
behind us.

“The chase began in the county near the
Interstate Two-Seventy, Highway Forty interchange and proceeded
through several neighborhood streets before continuing on eastbound
Forty at a…”

“They’ve got the bastard cornered,” Ben spoke
again, louder this time.

“Ssshh!” Felicity urged.

“…
Sideswiped another vehicle, injuring
the driver, before exiting Hampton to Highway Forty-Four.
Metropolitan police attempted to stop the car as it exited at the
riverfront on Memorial Drive. The suspect then literally crashed
through a construction barrier at Third Street and Washington,
narrowly missing pedestrians who were crossing the street on their
way to Laclede’s Landing.

“The chase finally ended here at this
abandoned warehouse on Second Street where the suspect fled the
vehicle with a woman who is believed to be a hostage, and they are
currently inside the building.”

“There are two agents on the scene,” Mandalay
offered into the lull that followed the reporter’s words. “Porter
is definitely inside, and he has Sullivan with him.”

“He won’t go down without killing her first,”
I said.

“They know that,” she replied. “That’s why no
one has entered the building yet.”

“Osthoff just told me they have a SWAT entry
team standing by,” Ben told us. “They should be rolling any
minute.

“I’ve been in there,” he added. “It’s at
Second and Ashley. Back when I was in uniform, I chased this little
prick into it after he had tried to break into a place a coupla’
blocks over on Broadway.” He shook his head and noisily sucked on
his teeth as he pondered the screen. “There’s a whole lotta places
to hide in there. And in the dark on top of it? Shit…”

Ben’s cell phone pealed, and he turned it up
in his hand to inspect the display. With a disgusted grunt, he
stabbed the device with his thumb then placed it against his ear.
“Yeah, this is Storm. What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

The languid pace of the drama on the
television screen prompted the station to cut from the scene and
back to the studio. The transition was a sudden switch to a groomed
man behind the news desk who was staring at an angle off camera as
he began speaking.

“We will now return you to network
programming…” The reporter did a quick double-take motion with his
head and then suddenly shifted a quarter turn toward the live
camera with only a slight stutter.

I ignored the segue back to the sitcom and
focused my attention on the side of Ben’s conversation that I could
hear.

“Yeah, we’ve got it on the TV right now,” he
said into the phone then waited.

Constance, Felicity, and I watched him as he
frowned and rocked in place. He brought his free hand up to smooth
back his hair, winced, shot it a disgusted look, and then went
ahead with the mannerism anyway.

“Yeah, well I don’t really think you can
blame Rowan for you bargin’ in here,” he said with a note of
irritation. “You wasted your own time, Lieutenant, not him.

“Uh-huh…Yeah…Uh-huh… Well, trust me, we
weren’t plannin’ on goin’ anywhere at the moment anyway, so I don’t
think you’ve got anything to worry about.”

“That woman is a real piece of work,”
Mandalay muttered.

“Aye, I was thinking more like she’s
an
òinnseach
,” Felicity
remarked.

“What’s that?”

“An idiot.”

Mandalay smirked at the insult. “I’ll agree
with you there.”

“Yeah, well, you can…” Ben barked suddenly
and then paused for a moment to regain his composure before
continuing in a restrained tone. “Yeah, well you’ll just have to
tell him that yourself. Yeah. Fine.”

My friend ended the call without ceremony and
then terminated the connection with a pair of clumsy thrusts from
his thumb against the keypad. He looked up at us while shaking his
head in an animated arc. “Jeezus H. Christ on roller skates!”

“What did she say?” Mandalay asked him, then
added, “Like we can’t guess.”

“Well,” he huffed. “She started out by
blaming Row for her wasting time here, but I guess you prob’ly
caught that. Other than that, she told me she’s en-route to the
scene and has officially
ordered
us to stay put until we hear from her.”

“What are you supposed to tell me?” I
asked.

“Let’s not go there, white man.”

“Ben…”

“Just the same shit, Row,” he growled. “She’s
all about saying that you’re responsible for whatever happens to
Sullivan.”

“Well,” I returned, “I am.”

“Look, Row,” he said. “What I was saying
earlier, forget it. You went with your gut, and you kept him on the
line long enough to peg a location. You made the right call, and
you aren’t responsible for what this wingnut does.”

“I won’t argue it with you, Ben,” I answered.
“I know what I have to own up to in the end.”

“You won’t have to,” Constance offered. “It
won’t hold up in court. There’s no way.”

“That’s not where I will have to face it.
Anything you do comes back to you,” I told them, then recited a
snippet of the Wiccan Rede as explanation. “Mind the threefold law
ye should, three times bad and three times good.”

“Aye,” Felicity spoke up. “Don’t you start
quoting like Eldon Porter now. The law of three would not apply
here.”

“I won’t debate it with you, either,” I told
her gently. “I deliberately antagonized him, and I just might have
made the wrong choice.”

“Stop second guessing yourself, Rowan,” Ben
instructed. “Albright’s wrong. That’s all there is to it. End of
story.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Ain’t no remains to be nothin’,” he spat.
“She’s wrong, so drop it.”

Across the room, the bell on the telephone
sprang to life, jangling out an angry-sounding demand to be
answered. We all froze, staring at one another with shared
trepidation. I started to move toward the kitchenette just as the
ringer belted out its noise for the third time.

Behind me, Mandalay’s cell phone began to
chirp. By the time I brought my fingers to rest on the handset in
the kitchen, Ben’s phone had added itself to the fray, forming a
discordant trio of chaotic tunes.

My stomach was starting to churn as I lifted
the receiver and placed it against the side of my head. Bouncing
around inside my skull was a desperate fear that I was about to
become wholly responsible for Eldon Porter taking the life of a
young woman who was associated with me by only tenuous threads at
best. The concept of guilt by association was abhorrent enough, but
this was virtually a case of guilt by future association.

It didn’t matter how much reassurance I was
given by Ben and Constance; the fact remained, in my mind I would
hold myself accountable. I would experience a threefold return for
my actions; there was no doubt. It was a foregone conclusion. And,
I knew that if nothing else, it would be self-imposed. If it came
to that, the payback would be harsh, and worst of all,
inescapable.

My brain tabbed through the possible
greetings, both appropriate and not—several of which I desperately
wanted to snarl. I wanted to scream each of them at Porter in
unending succession, backed with every thread of anger I could
muster; anger was something I had in abundance right now.

However, at the same time the fire raged
inside me, I was fully aware that even a single one of the phrases
might possibly seal Star’s fate the moment it was uttered. I simply
didn’t know what would push him over into the red zone, and I
didn’t want to find out. I forced myself to draw in a deep breath
and search once again for center.

I don’t know how long I actually stood there
with the handset to my ear, staring off into space, completely
mute. What I do know is that the pause was long enough for my
choice of greetings to become inconsequential. As a fleeting moment
of calm passed before me, I reached out for it and made a desperate
grab.

My shoulders involuntarily relaxed as the
person on the other end of the line spoke.

“Hello?” A confused, feminine voice flowed
into my ear. “Anyone there? Rowan? Felicity?”

“Yeah, Cally,” I answered with a slow sigh.
“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Cally,” I told her.
“Listen…”

“Do you have the TV on?” She began her
excited query before I could finish. “They’ve got someone trapped
in a warehouse. It’s on all the stations. Is that him?”

“Calm down, Cally,” I told her. “I know.
We’ve been watching. And yes, it’s him. So, listen…”

“I knew it!” she exclaimed, barreling over me
once again. “I could feel it. I told everyone here that it had to
be him.”

“Cally…” I started again.

She didn’t allow me to get more than a single
word in. “He’s got a hostage. Do they know who it is? What are they
going to do?”

“CALLY!” I stated her name with a closely
guarded firmness. “Slow down. Now be quiet and listen to me.”

She fell silent for a fleeting moment and
then spoke again in a meek tone that carried with it an overtone of
worry, “Rowan, what’s wrong?”

“Rowan, that was the field office,”
Mandalay’s voice came at me.

I looked at her, and she gave a curt nod to
the phone in my hand. “Porter is on Sullivan’s cell, and he’s
trying to get through on this line right now.”

“Rowan? Rowan? What’s wrong?” Cally’s voice
insisted in my ear.

I nodded back to Mandalay and then spoke
quickly into the phone. “Cally, listen, I have to go.”

“Rowan,” her voice took on a desperate whine.
“What’s wrong? Oh Gods! He doesn’t have Felicity, does he? He
called her today…”

“CALLY!” I barked again, all at once
struggling with impatience at the situation and sympathy for her
turmoil. “Listen to me. He DOES NOT have Felicity. She’s okay, but
I have to go. I’ll explain later.”

I could hear her crying my name as I dropped
the handset back into the cradle.

I shot a quick glance over to Felicity, and
she gave me an understanding nod. “Aye, I’ll call her on my
cell.”

The telephone on the wall had pipped out a
half ring the moment it hit the base and was already jangling its
first full measure as my wife spoke. I closed my eyes and dropped
my chin to my chest, drawing in a cleansing breath and forcing
myself to blow it out slowly through my mouth.

“Rowan…” Mandalay appealed as the phone gave
a second full ring.

I opened my eyes and looked up, giving her a
shallow nod of acknowledgement as our eyes met. I could literally
feel Eldon Porter on the other end of the phone even though I had
not yet answered it; even the sound of the ring was different,
angry and more urgent. This time it was the real thing, and I knew
I had no choice but to play this out on his terms even though I had
no idea what they were.

My hand had never left the telephone, so I
slipped it back out of the base in one smooth motion. As the
mouthpiece came near my lips, I spoke in the calmest voice I could
evoke, “Hello, Eldon.”

“You haven’t won, Gant, you know that, don’t
you?” He spat the question tersely.

I could hear rustling noises coming over the
phone as he apparently moved about within the confines of the
building. I could only imagine what it was like—dark, cold, and no
visible escape. Even for someone as insane as he, desperation had
to be oozing from every pore.

I didn’t feel sorry for him in the least, but
I did fear the dangerous edge the panic would bring forth.

He was breathing hard, huffing shallow
breaths out, and wheezing them back in at an alarming rate. The
situation had the potential to turn sour in a heartbeat.

“I know, Eldon,” I told him. “You’re right, I
haven’t won.”

“Don’t patronize me, Gant!” he screamed.
“Your sorcerers’ tricks won’t work this time! You just got lucky,
that’s all!”

“Okay, okay,” I said as a shiver traced
itself up my spine. “Let’s work this out, Eldon.”

I carefully covered the mouthpiece with my
free hand and looked at Constance. “He’s really edgy,” I said.
“Nothing like he was earlier. He’s losing control really fast.”

She twisted her cell phone away from her
mouth. “I know. They’ve got it patched in, and I’m listening. Look,
Rowan, we’re working on something…”

“What?”

“Just keep him talking,” she instructed.
“You’re doing fine.”

“Who were you talking to?!” Porter demanded
in my ear.

I stiffened, feeling as though I had just
been caught in the middle of some heinous act. I pulled my hand
away from the mouthpiece and spoke. “I wasn’t talking to
anyone.”

“When I called! I couldn’t get through! You
had to be talking to somebody!”