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The cabbie grinned like it was the brightest day of his life. Joe grabbed the oh shit bar and read the incoming information from his boss.
So far, no one knew the name of either the armed man or the man he’d been carrying. The hospital was cooperating with the local law enforcement, who were already on the scene. Hopefully someone was scouring the security footage and finding him more information on the hostage taker.
When his phone rang, it was a local number, so he picked up. “Cheveyo.”
“This is Darryl Crowley, Special Agent in Charge, Atlanta Division. Thanks for helping out. Our best negotiator is on maternity leave and I need someone with more experience than my other guys on this.”
“What have you got so far?”
“Looks like it’s gang-related. The footage shows both men wearing Roamer’s colors.”
“I don’t know much about the gang situation here. Give me the basics of that particular gang.”
The cab driver’s eyes widened and he pressed harder on the gas.
In no time, the lights from the hospital were visible. Joe checked the meter and yanked enough bills to cover it and a tip. He tossed it on the front seat and was out of the car before the driver had come to a full stop.
He strode through the door and headed for the nearest security guard. He showed his badge. “Where’s the situation?”
He avoided using the word hostage in the crowded room. No need to cause any panic. The young guard looked at his badge, then she pointed toward the elevator. “Up on the third floor. To the right. A work area has been set up at the nursing station.”
He thanked her and headed for the stairs. He wasn’t wasting time waiting for an elevator. As soon as he entered the third floor hallway, he spotted the control center and hurried forward to hold up his badge again. “Joe Cheveyo from the Sacramento FBI office. Who’s in charge?”
A tall woman looked up. “I’m Deborah Bridger, local FBI, but with no expertise in hostage negotiation. Thanks for coming so quickly.”
Joe nodded. “What do we know?”
“We’ve got a male suspect, late teens or early twenties, in the last operating room on the right. He used a gun to force the staff to let him through the doors. He carried in a younger male with an apparent abdominal injury. Potential gunshot. Lots of blood. Hostages are the surgeon and anesthesiologist.”
“Any demands?”
“He wants the surgeon to fix the injured youth. When he barged in, the team was in the finishing stages of another operation. According to the nurse, Dr. Moreno agreed to operate once she was finished with her original patient. He threatened her with the gun, but she didn’t back down and he didn’t shoot. Dr. Moreno sent the nurse, another doctor, and the rest of the team out with the patient and asked for a clean gurney for the youth.”
Joe was surprised. Doctors and nurses had reputations for being calm when dealing with just about anything, but facing a gun was not their usual kind of stress.
“Can I speak with the nurse or the doctor who came out?”
Bridger rolled her eyes. “The doctor is being a drama king over the terrifying incident he endured. Somehow he’s become the hero of his own story, which I think is bullshit. Your best bet is the nurse.” Bridger turned and raised her voice. “Tabora?”
A woman put down a chart and approached them with a worried smile. “Any word on Lia and Casilda?”
Bridger shook her head. “Not yet. This is Special Agent Cheveyo. Can you run him through what happened in there?”
Tabora spoke quickly and succinctly, covering what he already knew and adding the fact that the injured youth was the younger brother of the man with the gun. Which meant the shooter would be agitated and concerned. He hoped like hell the surgeon was able to save the boy’s life, as that might be the only way to salvage the situation.
And he really hoped Dr. Moreno was steady enough to do the surgery at gunpoint.
Chapter 2
Jumping The Gun
Joe couldn’t follow normal procedures and steps. There wasn’t a phone in the operating room to call in. Hospital policy was to not have cell phones in the OR and apparently the two doctors involved never broke that rule.
Because he’d been so close, the local team hadn’t set up any listening devices or cameras yet. Too much time had passed without any communication and he needed to get in contact with the hostage taker asap and find out the situation in the OR. If the younger kid died on the table, there was no telling what the man would do.
It definitely wasn’t protocol, but he needed to get in the room. He had the locals wire him up and add a tiny camera to his shirt collar. He also donned a tactical vest then approached the door to the operating room. All the other rooms had been emptied and his steps echoed in the hallway.
Something had been used to cover up the window from the inside, so he had no view going in. Using a normal voice, Joe called through the door. “Hello to the people inside the operating room. My name is Joe. I’m going to come in. I’m not armed.”
