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“Twenty minutes.”
* * *
Hutch burst into FI’s second-floor conference room.
Ryan, Patrick and Marc were all there, poised and ready.
“What’s the plan?” Ryan demanded.
“I’ve got Horace Sharp on high alert.” Patrick waved his phone in the air. “What am I telling him?”
Hutch shot a quick glance at Ryan. “I assume your cell phone monitoring system is working?”
“System working,” Yoda reported. “No calls made or received.”
Hutch acknowledged Yoda’s status update with a nod. “I want to scare Suzanne Fisher into making a call to her husband. If I can do that, I’m counting on your cell phone interceptor to locate the place where Glen Fisher is taking the call.”
“No problem,” Ryan said.
“Good.” Hutch turned back to Patrick. “Here’s what you’re telling Captain Sharp. He should deploy his SWAT team to Suzanne’s building. We need him to send six SWAT members, a truck and a bunch of patrol cars. The scenario has to look pure Hollywood, right down to the flashing lights and squawking radios—the complete opposite of a real tactical SWAT deployment, where the element of surprise is crucial. In this case, we want the target to know they’re coming for her.”
“Got it.” Patrick was already punching in the number.
“
This has to work, Hutch.” Ryan looked like death. “You know what Fisher will do to Claire and Casey.”
“What I know is that we’ve got to stop him.”
* * *
Suzanne was trying to focus on her future in Dubai when pandemonium erupted.
She heard the sirens as they approached. Minutes later, she saw the reflections of the red lights bouncing off her window shades. She froze. Heart pounding, she crept over to the window, knelt down and eased the shade aside so she could peer out.
The area was a beehive of law enforcement activity. Suzanne turned her head all the way to the left and then to the right. The entire street was blocked off to vehicular and pedestrian traffic at both ends. A dozen police cars with red lights flashing were screeching up the street, stopping right outside.
Panic surged through her as the commotion intensified. A large black truck cut through the bevy of patrol cars and parked in front of her building. Six NYPD officers jumped out, donning bulletproof vests. Three of them hurried across the street and entered the building directly across from Suzanne’s. The other three ran behind her building to the courtyard.
Ten minutes later, laser beams aimed at and shot through every window of her apartment, sweeping the entire room as if looking for a target.
Suzanne sank to the floor. After another two minutes, she heard the sound of police radios emanating from the hallway just outside her door. She flattened herself on the floor and crawled into a corner like a terrified rat.
The scene commander’s voice was loud as he yelled into his radio, “Green light! Green light! Acknowledge!”
“Alpha ready,” came the radio response from her hallway.
“Stay down, you idiot,” hissed one of the cops. “Didn’t you hear the sniper say ‘ready’? Captain Sharp just authorized a kill shot.”
That was all Suzanne needed to hear.
Crawling frantically across the floor, she reached up and fumbled on the coffee table until she found her burn phone.
She punched in Glen’s number.
One ring. Two.
Glen picked up on the third ring.
