Page 55 of Waiting for Him
Standing about twenty-five yards from the disabled Escalade, Jake gritted his teeth as SAC Frank Stonewall got in his face, demanding he and Tanner leave the area. “You’re fucking civilians, and this situation is now under the jurisdiction of the FBI. Get back in your fucking truck, and get the hell out of here, so we can do our jobs.”
Keeping his voice low and threatening, Jake towered over the shorter man and leaned in so he wasn’t overheard by anyone else. “Listen, you fucktard. The only reason you were called in was because we were short-handed, and Ian couldn’t get a hold of us. You know damn fucking well Keon will ream you a new asshole with one quick phone call. Now, we’re willing to step back and let the SWAT commander take over, but I’ll be fucking damned if I let that woman out of my sight again, so take your attitude and shove it up your ass.”
The SAC looked ready to explode but held his tongue when a tall, dark-haired man dressed all in black and carrying a megaphone approached them. “Jake? I hear this mess started at Trident. Fill me in so I know what we’re dealing with. You’ll have to tell me what’s up with the eye patch later.”
Jake shook Calvin Watts’s extended hand. The agent was the lead negotiator in charge of the Tampa area FBI SWAT team. Having mutual friends, they played basketball against each other almost every Tuesday night at the local YMCA, and Jake was relieved the man was there. He’d seen Watts’s team in action before and was confident they could get Kat out of this in one piece.
“Hey, Cal. I appreciate the fast response. Thank God Ian had you en route, and TPD had cars nearby with the spike strips available. The tangos kidnapped Boomer’s woman from the compound. They shot our guard in the shoulder, but he was able to drop the original driver, so now it’s just two of them in there, plus Kat. Tangos are Russian mobsters from Virginia. Kat’s father appropriated a large sum of money from their boss about twelve years ago, and they want it back.”
Ignoring the SAC who stood by, still seething, Watts, who was officially in charge of the incident, gestured then started walking toward the newly arrived SWAT command van, and Jake followed. “Okay, how much money are we talking about here? I doubt they’d be taking such a big risk for a few thousand.”
“Try fifteen million, plus twelve years’ interest, sitting in the Cayman Islands.” Cal whistled his amazement as he opened the back door of the large truck and climbed in after Jake. “Yeah, I know, far from chump change. From what I understand, Kat’s dad was an accountant for the mob but didn’t realize who he was really dealing with until he was too far in. After keeping his nose clean for a few years, he discovered evidence of white slavery and gave it to the FBI. A few days later, Kat’s family was run off the road. The crash killed her mother and brother and sent her and her dad into the Witness Protection Program. Kat didn’t know it until her father died recently, but the old man transferred money out of the mob’s accounts a few days after the accident and sent it to a dummy account. Revenge, I guess. A string of unrelated events put these bastards back on her trail, leading us here.”
Watts shook his head. “Damn, you boys don’t like anything simple, do you? All right, let’s get this rescue underway. They’re demanding another car and a free pass, or they’ll kill her. The usual shit these idiots think we’ll cave for. Any idea what their names are so we can start developing profiles?”
A tech typing away on a nearby computer keyboard eyed Jake, waiting for his answer. “No ID on the driver, but the guy in the back seat with Kat is Viktor Dryagin, a trained assassin who took his boss’s place in the organization after he got the okay to off the guy. From what I hear, he won’t go down easy.”
“Guys like him never do. Anyone else here from Trident?”
“One of our contract guys, Tanner, is over by his truck, staying out of the way and keeping our dog from staging his own rescue. The rest are on their way. When Brody gets here, he can listen in on a microphone Kat’s wearing. It’s one of his toys we’ve used before.”
Picking up two headsets, Watts tossed one to Jake. “Okay. Stick around and stay out of Stonewall’s face. I’m not in the mood for his fucking blubbering. And ears only. Keep your microphone off—you’re here out of professional courtesy, and I trust your input, but I won’t have you interfering with the negotiations.”
Understanding the man was making a huge concession by allowing him to stay, Jake replaced the Trident headset over his left ear with the new one, pocketing the former, which was only on the compound’s frequency. Murray was now in an ambulance on his way to the hospital with Colleen in tow, so there wasn’t anyone back at the war-room for him to talk to. “Thanks, and no worries. I trust you to do your thing.”
“Sir?” Both men looked at the second tech monitoring several radio frequencies, among other things. “We’ve got a State PD chopper requesting permission to land nearby. Says they have the rest of the Trident team with them.”
Cal raised an eyebrow at Jake, who shrugged. “Friends in high places—what else can I say?”
The negotiator barked out a laugh. “Yeah, okay, Smitty. Since the highway is shut down in both directions, tell TPD on the ground to clear a landing zone in the southbound lanes south of us and ask the state boys to stick around. We might be able to use them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hey, Cal?” The agent followed when Jake took a few steps backward, away from the techs, silently acknowledging the fact that whatever Jake would tell him was for his ears only. “We’ve got an extra man with the team. Black-ops with federal clearances up the ass, and don’t ask for any other information because I can’t tell you. Just know he’s got Moran, Keon, and POTUS on speed dial, and the same in reverse.”
The agent’s surprise was evident at the mention of the director and assistant director of the FBI, along with the President of the United States, but he let Jake finish. “The man is one of the best snipers I know, and he’s got my spare rifle on board the bird. Not stepping on your toes here, but just know I trust him with my own mother’s life.”
“That’s saying a lot coming from a SEAL sniper.” Jake waited while Cal mulled things over, knowing he would have to accept his response either way. “All right, I hope we don’t need him, but here’s what we’ll do.”
* * *
Under the watchful eyes of his teammates, Boomer paced back and forth behind the line of law enforcement vehicles and personnel. The only reason he was back there and not leading a full-out assault on the Cadillac Escalade in the middle of the highway, some forty yards away, was Ian had threatened to handcuff him to Tanner’s truck. “This is taking too fucking long.”
Since they all knew how this had to play out, no one answered him, letting him vent his frustrations verbally. Hostage negotiations were a psychological game for the lead negotiator. There were five steps to communicating and negotiating with the hostage takers—active listening, empathy, rapport, influence, and behavioral change. An ideal situation would have the bad guys releasing the hostage and surrendering without escalating things. Unfortunately, very few hostage situations were ideal.
For a trained group of retired Navy SEALs, such as Trident, it was difficult to sit back and let another team take over. But they all knew Calvin Watts’s SWAT was one of the best on the East Coast, with a long history of successful missions to their credit. They'd even won awards in national competitions. If Trident had to relinquish the rescue to a law enforcement agency, they were lucky it was this team.
It’d been over an hour since the police spike strip had been thrown on the highway, blowing all four tires on the Russians’ SUV. Kat must be going out of her mind with fear, and Boomer knew precisely what it felt like. At least the team had an inside man. Jake was still in the communications van and using Marco’s borrowed earpiece to pass on information to them. Occasionally, he would ask a question to give the hostage negotiator some intel, which Ian or Boomer hopefully had the answer to.
Also in the comm van was Egghead, who was using a program on his tablet to listen in on the conversation taking place between the two Russians, thanks to the microphone in Kat’s GPS bracelet. The men mainly spoke in their native language, but the geek had a bilingual TPD officer also plugged in, translating for him. Unfortunately, they weren’t learning anything from the exchange that could help them end the incident peacefully.
“Ian?” Jake’s voice came over the team’s earpieces.
“Go.”
“These guys are getting antsy. They insist on taking the State PD chopper, or they’ll start cutting her up with a knife. With Dryagin’s background, Cal thinks we’re running out of time.”
Boomer’s eyes widened in horror, but a glare from his boss had him keeping his mouth shut. There had to be a reason for Jake telling them this, knowing he was listening. “We have an idea, but we need your input to see if it’ll work. Cal wants you and Boomer in the comm van.”
