“Let’s keep everyone alive,” Kat said. “We need to assumethat handgun is loaded, deadly, and capable of rapid fire. Hang back until Hayes or Wheeler have a clean—What’s that shadow in the hallway?” She leaned closer to the screen, then groaned.
“Doctor Kramer,” I said. “He must have been in his office. Why the hell didn’t he stay there?”
“Rogers and I will extract him while tactical get sights on Riker,” Lang said.
“I don’t like it, but I don’t see a choice.” Kat nodded. “That’s an affirmative, Lang. Pasco, do we have full visuals yet?”
“There’s one more camera in the hallway. There it is. We have all the visuals we’re going to get.” Pasco handed Lang a tablet, which displayed the same feeds on a much smaller display. Lang tucked it under his vest.
Kat gave the command. “Tactical and logistics, it’s go-time.”
One by one, the four of us jumped out of the van. With cameras on Riker and no concern about taking fire, we raced through the parking lot to the back of the building at a flat-out run. At the door, we lined up with Hayes, then Wheeler, in the lead.
Hayes tested the doorknob. “No deadbolt,” he said. He twisted it farther.
“Stop,” Kat said. “Doctor Kramer has reached the OR. Damn it. Riker has him.”
“The number of hostages won’t matter if tactical gets off a clean shot,” I said.
We all nodded, Kat verbally confirmed, and we stepped into the building. We switched to hand-signal communication. Lang pulled out the tablet, and Wheeler and Hayes glanced at it. Then Hayes crept farther down the hall, andhe and Wheeler took positions on either side of the partially open OR door.
Shooting through the glass window of the door was too dangerous because the deflection could send the bullet—or in this case, the tranq dart—into the wrong person. Our projectile of choice meant an innocent bystander wouldn’t be killed by our shots, but the wrong hit would tip off Riker, who in turn could open fire.
Hayes and Wheeler would have to sight him, get a feel for where to aim as they entered the room, then throw open the door and take him down.
It was the best option in a worst-case situation. And I fucking hated it.
37
CAMI
“Doctor, I’ll get some forceps since we don’t know what we’ll see in there,” Gina said. She checked through a few cupboards, putting on a good show. “We need to have another talk with Vera. She’s still not restocking the OR correctly,” she lied.
She palmed the syringe, then angled her body between Scott’s sightline and her hand. She’d nearly reached me and was about to slide the syringe into my pocket when a noise in the hallway made us jump.
“Doc,” we both whisper shouted.
I’d hoped he would stay in his office until the surgery was over and Scott was gone, but of course that had gone wrong as well.
“Kramer!” Scott pushed open the OR door and motioned to Doc. “Come in,” he said as if they were old friends.
“Scott, what are you doing here?” Doc hesitated, then shuffled into the room.
“Sit down, Doc, you look tired.” Scott pulled his gun and used it to indicate a chair along the wall.
I went lightheaded for a minute when the glint from the silver barrel hit my eyes. But finally, something went right as Gina used Scott’s temporary shift in focus to slide the syringe into my pants pocket.
“Doc,” Scott continued, “why don’t you tell these girls what we’ve been up to?”
Doc looked terrified. I didn’t blame him. We all felt that way. But Gina and I needed to keep up a brave façade to keep all of Scott’s hostages alive.
“Doc was supposed to help me out Saturday, weren’t you, Doc?” Scott asked. “Then his wife had issues and he wouldn’t leave her, and I got a little desperate.”
“Are you talking about taking Ally?” I asked.
“Well,” he casually swung the gun in our direction and Gina and I gasped and grabbed each other’s hands, “I was hoping to get one of you two, but with your fancy new security,” he glared at me, “and your fancy new boyfriend, it didn’t work out.”
“Poor Ally,” Doc muttered.
