“Copy that,” said Gerard and removed his finger from his ear. Without taking his eyes off the store he said: “Message from the stadium. The store owner, Mike Lunde, is dangerous and potentially armed.”
“Meaning what?” said Hector, not because he hadn’t understood, but because he wanted it confirmed.
“Meaning they think the store owner is the assassin. Is that Mike Lunde in there with them?”
“Yeah,” said Hector. He knew that now wasn’t the time to start assigning blame but had already worked out his own part in it. Others had been responsible for giving Mike Lunde the security clearance he needed to enter the Patterson home, but it was Hector who had told Gerard it was safe for Jill and the kids to go into the store alone. Of course, he could excuse himself by saying he was only following Jill’s expressed wishes. Excuse himself by saying that the view from out here in the street was as good if not better than from inside the store. Excuse himself by saying he had spoken to Lunde and rarely met someone who inspired greater confidence. But Hector had departed from his principle of being always, no matter what the hour, as close to the Patterson family as possible, and for that there could be no excuse. Hector was already out of the car and heard Gerard behind him, running to keep up.
“We’re going into the store,” Gerard said into the headset.
Right at that same moment Hector’s own security chief spoke into his earbud: “You get that message, Hector?”
“Yeah, we’re on our way in.”
Hector had known Gerard for only a few hours but from the way he moved and readied himself he could see they must have gone through a similar training. So they didn’t need to exchange words but automatically split as they crossed the street so that they wouldn’t be seen from the store, then made their way separately from different sides toward the store window. Hector risked aquick look inside, but the lighting was dim, and the stuffed animals in the window blocked his view so he couldn’t see much. He and Gerard moved in a crouch past the display window, then pressed their backs against the wall on either side of the doorway. A handwritten sign hanging on the door handle said “CLOSED.” The O was drawn like a smiley face. But Hector had noticed that when Mike Lunde opened the door to Jill and the children they had been moving straight toward the back of the store as the door swung closed behind them, so unless it was a spring lock the door should be open.
Gerard pointed to Hector and laid his hand flat on the top of his head and then pointed to himself—a tactical signal meaningyou—cover—me.Hector shook his head firmly and returned the signal. After a moment’s hesitation Gerard nodded.
Hector put his left hand on the door handle, pressed down and pushed carefully.
It wasn’t locked.
Hector pointed to the top of the door with his gun then put the barrel against his lips. Gerard understood and nodded, he clearly recalled the jangle of the bell when Mike Lunde had opened up for Jill and the children.
Hector took two deep in-and-out breaths.
Then something happened to Hector that occasionally happened in situations like this. In his mind’s eye he saw the silhouette of his father’s head against the sun, and heard the deep voice, at once reassuring and challenging: “I see you.”
Hector pushed the door open wider, careful not to make the bell ring but just enough to enable him to slip inside. Bodyguards wear dark glasses for a number of reasons, and style is not among them. One is to avoid a situation in which bright sunlight makes the pupils so small that the bodyguard is temporarily blinded on entering a darker room. Hector pulled off his shades and tossed them aside before again raising the pistol in both hands. He hadtime to see the family sitting in a ring around Quentin, Jill facing him with silver duct tape over her mouth and hands behind her back. He had time to see Siri and Simon in chairs, hands bound by plastic strips to the struts on the chairbacks. And he had time to see Mike Lunde, who was sitting beside Jill. And he had time to see the barrel of the rifle Mike Lunde was pointing at him.
Hector even had time to see the flash of light from the mouth of the gun.
And then it was as if he had been hit by a truck, he felt himself tumbling backward, out the door, felt himself hit something and collapse onto the sidewalk, felt he couldn’t move, the light was disappearing. Felt someone take hold of the shoulder straps of the bulletproof vest he was wearing under his jacket and pull him across the concrete as the voice of the JTTF man whose name he could no longer recall spoke above him in a loud, breathless voice:
“November. Herrer has been shot by the suspect, repeat Herrer has been shot. Pulling him to safety, bleeding heavily, looks critical. Suspect is in the store with three hostages. I need an ambulance and backup. Now!”
Hector thought he should take off his shades, because it was too dark. He searched the sky for the sun. Looked for the face. Listened for the voice that was supposed to sayI see you.But it wasn’t there. Hector didn’t hear or see anything.
51
Message, October 2016
Jill Patterson felt the warm tears running down her cheeks, lost the sensation as they ran onto the tape, and cold by the time they ran back onto the skin and down over her chin. She wanted to close her eyes, shut out all this, but forced herself to keep them open, forced herself to look at Simon and Siri who stared at her from above small, taped mouths, as though she, their mother, was the only person in all the world who could save them. And hadn’t she really always been the only one?
Mike Lunde’s voice beside her was calm, almost like someone talking in his sleep.
“I’m sorry you had to see that man get shot, Mrs. Patterson, I would have preferred things to be different. But as your husband preaches, it is the right of every citizen to protect his house and property against intruders. And there is actually a Closed sign on the door.”
Like someone breaking the surface for a breath of air, Jill closed her eyes. Momentarily.
“Siri and Simon…” Mike Lunde began, and Jill at once opened her eyes wide again, seeking to catch her children’s eyes, as though she thought they would be doomed if they so much as looked at him. But she had lost them, their gazes were already on the taxidermist.
“Don’t be afraid,” he continued. “This will soon be over. I promise, cross my heart and hope to die.”
Jill tried to blink away the tears as Mike Lunde drew his forefinger twice, slowly, across his throat.
—
Bob was two blocks away now but had to stop when the traffic light in front of him turned red. He swore. He knew that, at this particular intersection, there was always a long wait for the green. A car with zebra stripes pulled up alongside and he heard the sirens at the same time. He lowered his window. The sounds were coming from several cars and they seemed to be getting closer. Bob turned on the radio and tuned in to the local news channel.
