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  “Hmmph,” Trippy said from behind, but didn’t have anything else to offer.

  We burst through the door onto the first level and turned to follow the short walkway that led to the TV station. Trippy sprinted ahead, reaching the glass entrance door and tugging on the handle. It was locked up tight.

  He stepped back, drew a pistol with a long suppressor attached and fired several rounds through the glass. Putting the handgun away, he used the stock of his rifle to batter a hole, then reached in and released the deadbolt. Jerking the door open, he stepped aside as the rest of us charged into the empty lobby.

  Chapter 47

  “How many?” I asked when Trippy walked back into the room.

  We were on the third floor of the building in what was labeled as a production suite. Two men and a woman who had been working the night shift were seated on the floor, fear in their eyes as Ashley talked to them and BK stood watch.

  “Ten. So far.”

  He’d gone to an exterior window to see how many cops had us surrounded. Three minutes ago, it had been four.

  “Feds’ll be here quick,” he said. “Means snipers, so don’t go near no windows.”

  “How long can we hold out?” I asked.

  “Depends on how determined them fuckers is. Got the elevators locked down and stairwell is barricaded best I can. Up and down, case they gets on the roof. Like to set up some surprises for ‘em, but…”

  “Bigger problem than that,” BK said. “Feds will cut power. Pretty standard in a hostage situation. They do that, we’re dead in the water. No way to upload.”

  I hadn’t thought about that, but he was right. Hurrying to Tanya, I looked over her shoulder at the computer monitor she was staring at. She was reading a file on how to operate the equipment we needed to use.

  “How’s it coming?”

  She didn’t bother to look at me.

  “Not good. This is way more complicated than I expected. There’s a lot more to it than just pushing a couple of buttons.”

  “Show me.”

  I turned when the older of the two men spoke to Ashley. She glanced at BK, who was frowning at the man.

  “Show me,” he said again. “If you’re telling the truth, I’ll help. Always thought something about this whole thing kind of stunk. But I’m not helping if you’re lying to me, so show me the goddamn file.”

  I looked at BK, then over at Ashley. Neither of them were moving.

  “What’s your name?” I asked the man.

  “Jerry Gibson,” he said.

  “She’s telling you the truth, Mr. Gibson.”

  “Then prove it to me, kid,” he said. “Show me what you got.”

  I startled to bristle when he called me ‘kid’, but he was older than my dad, so I held my tongue.

  “Let me have it,” I said, holding my hand out toward BK without looking away from Gibson.

  BK hesitated, then pulled out the jump drive and gave it to me. Tanya had been listening and took it, plugging it into the computer she was using. Opening the file, she started it playing and rolled away from the desk. I gestured at the man and after a glance at BK, he slowly stood and came over to watch. As the file played, he cast the occasional look over his shoulder at me and Tanya.

  “We gonna run outta time,” Trippy said quietly.

  “We need his help,” I said.

  He shook his head and shrugged. A phone on a side desk began ringing, startling everyone other than Trippy. He just looked at it and snorted.

  “That’s gonna be cops. Gonna go check the perimeter.”

  He hurried out of the room as the phone continued to ring.

  “We need time,” I said, looking at BK.

  He stared back at me, then sighed. Stepping to the desk, he lifted the handset to his ear but didn’t speak. After a moment, I could faintly hear a calm, professional voice from the phone.

  “This is real.” Gibson said and I turned to face him, glad he’d made it a statement and not a question.

  “Unfortunately,” I said.

  He shook his head and turned back to the computer. Behind me, I could hear BK talking to the cops in a low, even voice. I didn’t bother to pay attention to what he was saying. It didn’t matter, as long as he kept them occupied and they didn’t cut the power or come charging in with a SWAT team.

  “Alright, son,” the man said. “What’s your plan?”

  “Get this uploaded to all the big news stations,” I said. “Can you do that from here?”

  “Sure,” he said, looking at the paused video in thought.

  Trippy stuck his head into the room and BK cupped his hand over the phone’s mouthpiece.

  “FBI’s here,” he said softly before withdrawing.

  BK and I both nodded and he turned away to continue his conversation.

  “Fast as you can,” I said.

  He sat down in front of the computer and I watched carefully as he made a copy of the video file and stored it on the local hard drive. When he was satisfied the copy was good, he pulled the jump drive out and rolled to a large console with an embedded monitor and keyboard. He worked for nearly a minute, seemingly surprised by the results he was seeing.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Not connecting,” he said, still working. “No link to the satellite.”

  “Does that ever happen?”

  “If it’s winter and the dish fills up with snow, or if there’s a bad storm. Other than that, not that I can remember.”

  “They’re blocking it somehow!” Tanya said.

  “Do we have internet?”

  She leaned over the laptop and attacked the keys briefly, then peered at the monitor. Ashley moved to her side, also staring at the screen.

  “Damn it, we’re down!” Tanya said, slamming her hand on the desk.

  Ashley spun around to face the man at the console.

  “Do you have a phone?”

  “No signal,” he said after checking his iPhone.

  “Damn it! What do we do?”

  I was speaking to myself, then turned to look at BK who was still on the phone with the cops. He got the meaning and nodded his head. Interrupted whoever was talking. Letting him do his thing, I looked around when Trippy walked in.

  “FBI sniper on the bank roof cross the street. Tactical team suitin’ up down below.”

  “That can’t be right!” Gibson said, looking around. “Cops never come in this fast. I’ve been in the news business for thirty years and they’ll talk you to death before they force their way in, as long as you aren’t hurting anyone.”

  I looked at Trippy.

  “You sure?”

  He stared back at me, not saying anything.

  “They think we killed two agents,” I said, nodding an apology to Trippy for questioning him. “They aren’t going to screw around. We need to get that video out there!”

  “How?” Tanya asked. “They’ve shut down any way we have to send it!”

  “Maybe not,” Gibson said slowly.

  We all turned to look at him.

  “Alright, it’s not that hard to block our satellite signal and cut the internet,” he said. “Few years ago, we were having problems with interference and set up a remote dish farm. Problem was solved and haven’t needed it for a while, but it’s still there. They probably don’t know about it.”

  “Remote? In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a lot of cops outside and they aren’t going to let us go anywhere,” I said.

  “Let me finish,” he said, holding his hand up. “There’s a microwave transceiver on the roof. That’s how we communicated with the dish farm. It’s direct line of sight and at least as far as I know, the only way they could shut it down is to put a solid object directly in its path.”

  “And that will do the same thing?” Ashley asked.

  “Exactly the same thing. Gives us access to satellite feeds as well as a way to broadcast.”

  “Then why are we talking about it?” Tanya asked. “Just do it!�
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  “Just remembered it, young lady,” Gibson said with a frown before turning back to the console.

  He worked for a couple of minutes, then looked at me with a shake of his head.

  “It’s not connecting. Probably the equipment on the roof. Seems we were always having to recalibrate.”

  “Do you know how?” I asked.

  He nodded and I turned to look at Trippy.

  “Gonna be open to the sniper,” he said, then turned to Gibson. “There a parapet round the roof?”

  “Hey, forget it,” he said. “I said I’d help, not that I’d get involved to the point that snipers are shooting at me!”

  I looked at him for a moment, then at Ashley and Tanya. Both were worried. Afraid. The reality of our situation was starting to sink in. We were probably only minutes away from an FBI tactical team breaching the building.

  “Could you talk me through it over a radio?” I asked.

  Chapter 48

  Trippy and I stood in the stairwell, looking at the door that opened onto the roof. Ashley was now on the phone with the cops, trying to keep them calm while BK had set up to defend the stairs coming from the ground floor. Tanya hadn’t liked being left behind, but someone needed to keep an eye on Gibson’s two co-workers. They hadn’t given us any problems, but that could have been because of BK’s hulking presence. We weren’t going to leave Ashley by herself with them.

  “Got a pair on ya, kid. Your old man’d be proud,” Trippy said.

  I glanced at him then had to look away. He clapped me on the shoulder.

  “Bank roof’s same height,” he said. “Stay low and if’n you don’t do nothin’ stupid, everythin’ should be good.”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. Checked the small satchel of tools Gibson had given me, then made sure the radio clipped to my vest was turned on. Trippy reached for the knob, then paused and tilted his head like he was listening to something. It took me a second to remember he could communicate with BK over an earpiece connected to his radio.

  “Copy,” he said softly, glancing over his shoulder at me. “FBI’s goin’ into the lobby. We ‘bout outta time. Ready?”

  I nodded again and he cracked the door open, dropped to his belly and slithered through onto the dark roof. Following his example, I looked to the left, dismayed to see only a two foot high parapet to protect us from the sniper. Trying to dismiss fears of being shot, I scrambled forward on my belly, twisting and turning as I passed several pieces of equipment I didn’t recognize.

  Ahead was a tall transmission tower, painted red and white. Looking up, I could just make out the radome, a microwave antenna that Gibson had described. It was a few feet across and kind of looked like half a bubble. That had been the first thing I was supposed to check. Make sure it was still intact and aimed to the northeast.

  The equipment that utilized it was at the base of the tower and that had better be where the problem was. With a sniper across the street, there was no way anyone was climbing up to repair or adjust the antenna.

  Trippy moved easier than I did, seeming to glide along on knees and elbows. I kept up with him, but made a lot of noise and was quickly wishing for padding beneath my abused joints. We passed two large satellite dishes, then reached the base of the tower. There were half a dozen weatherproof cabinets in a row, all with thick bundles of cabling running to one of the legs and up into the darkness. I carefully looked over each one, but didn’t find the markings I’d been told to look for.

  “At the tower,” I said into the radio. “None of them have the label I’m supposed to find.”

  “You sure?” Gibson answered immediately.

  “Of course I’m sure, goddamn it!” I snapped, instantly regretting speaking to him that way. “Sorry. Little keyed up. Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Tell me what’s there,” he said.

  Starting at the left, I read off the label of each cabinet. When I released the transmit button, Gibson was shouting. Guess I should have gone one at a time.

  “The first one! The first one!”

  “Got it,” I said, crawling forward when Trippy crabbed sideways to make room.

  I was reaching out to open the door when he grabbed my arm to stop me.

  “Door’s taller’n the parapet,” he said. “When it opens, if that sniper’s spotter’s worth two shits, he’ll see. Shooter stands up, he gots a bead on us.”

  He waved his hand around and I could see what he meant. We were almost at the center of the roof, which would give the sniper an angle on our position if he gained even a few feet of elevation.

  “What should I do?” I asked.

  “Your job,” Trippy said. “Gimme time to get ready.”

  “Ready for what?” I asked, but he was already moving.

  I watched as he crawled to the back side of a massive steel cabinet labeled as HVAC, whatever the hell that is. Hidden from the sniper’s position, he rose to his knees, fumbled something that looked like a thick tube out of his pack and slowly extended an end a couple of inches above the top edge of his cover.

  It wasn’t until he pressed his eye to the lower end that I realized he was using a small periscope to see without being seen. He adjusted position a couple of times, then glanced at me and flashed a thumbs up. Unlatching the cabinet, I pulled the door open and stared helplessly at a row of circuit boards and a nest of wiring.

  “Got it open,” I transmitted.

  “Tell me what lights are on.”

  I stared into the interior and couldn’t see a single light.

  “None. It’s dark.”

  “It’s only shut off!” Gibson said excitedly. “Bottom left corner. Should be a big, black switch. Turn it on.”

  I found the switch easily enough, flipping it up with a solid clunk. Immediately, an entire row of red LEDs, spaced across a polished metal panel began glowing.

  “Got a whole bunch of red lights!” I said, echoing Gibson’s excitement.

  “Sit tight. It’s booting up. You want to see one red light, that means the power’s on, then eight solid green and two flashing green. Got that?”

  I repeated it back and settled down to wait, eyes glued to the lights. Slowly, one at a time, the reds were changing to green.

  “You done?” Trippy hissed. “They seen the door move.”

  “Almost,” I called back without taking my eyes off the lights.

  As I watched, the fifth red turned green and remained solid. Three solids to go, then I needed two flashing ones.

  “Move now!” Trippy shouted.

  I didn’t hesitate. Rolling away from the cabinet, I scrambled for the shelter of one of the tower legs as a bullet slammed into the tarred surface of the roof mere inches from my face. Then Trippy was firing. Fast, single shots as I dashed for where he huddled behind the large piece of equipment. No more bullets came my way, but there were several hard impacts on the far side of the HVAC unit.

  “Jesus Christ!” I breathed when Trippy ducked down next to me. “Did you get him?”

  “Just throwin’ his aim off a bit,” he said, changing magazines in his rifle.

  “What? That fucker was trying to kill me!”

  “Ain’t dead, are ya?”

  “Seriously?” I asked, looking at him in incomprehension.

  “Cool your jets, junior. Them ain’t the bad guys. Just a cop doin’ his job. He don’t know no better.”

  I stared at him for a moment, breathing hard from the fear induced adrenaline coursing through me. Finally, as I calmed, I realized what he was saying and nodded my head in agreement. Just like the FBI agents at the Meadows’ ranch that I hadn’t shot. They were just pawns.

  “Got a link!” Gibson shouted over the radio. “It’s working. File’s going now!”

  I shared a smile with Trippy, then both our heads snapped around at the sound of an approaching helicopter. It seemed to be coming fast, but we couldn’t spot it.

  “Done!” Gibson called.

  “You sure?” I asked.


  “Positive.”

  “Thank you,” I said, then looked at Trippy. “What now?”

  He was staring to the south, which seemed to be the direction the helicopter was coming from. Without answering me, he mumbled into his radio, speaking to BK. He was done quickly, grinning at me and beginning to remove his weapons.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I asked.

  “Job’s done,” he said. “Evidence is out there. We try’n fight back, they’ll kill us all, an besides, I ain’t hurtin’ an innocent less I got no choice. So, we surrender.”

  All I could do was stare at him in shock. I didn’t want to die, but I’d already resolved myself to the idea. Hadn’t imagined there would be any other outcome at this point.

  “Take ‘em off, junior,” Trippy said as he shrugged out of his vest. “Don’t worry. We gots friends already makin’ calls. Everything’ll be fine.”

  I hesitated a beat, then did as he said. And it was probably for the best. A few seconds later, a big helicopter popped up over an adjacent building and went into a hover with the open side door facing us. The pilot was staying well clear of the TV transmission tower, but not so far that the pintle mounted gun trained on our position couldn’t have shredded us.

  “C’mon, junior.”

  Trippy got to his feet with his hands on top of his head. I stood and copied him.

  “Did you mean it?” I asked as we stared at the helicopter, waiting for a team to burst through the door onto the roof.

  “Mean what?”

  “When you said my dad would be proud.”

  “Didn’t know ya before, but guessin’ there weren’t much to ya. Watched you nut up. Take charge. Be a man. He’s proud.”

  I stood there staring at the helicopter, waiting to be arrested. Tears flowed down my face and a lump formed in my throat. Looking up at the dark sky, I hoped Trippy was right. I hoped my dad was looking down with a smile of approval.

  Chapter 49

  One year later…

  “Dismissed!”

  The command rang across the parade ground at the Marine Recruit Depot on Paris Island, South Carolina. There was a moment of absolute silence, then cheers from all around as we rushed to greet our families. A freshly minted Marine Corps private, I was walking on air and grinning from ear to ear as Tanya raced forward and threw herself into my arms.