Read Online Death Row by William Bernhardt - Free Book Online Page A

son-of-a-bitch manager fired me. He said I was screwing around, not getting my work done. Made other people carry the slack. But he was full of it!" Watching the gun bob and weave in all directions made Mike sick, but there was nothing he could do about it at present. "I worked hard. Every day, hard. Not like some manager who sits on his fat ass and watches other people work. I didn't deserve to lose my job. And I want it back!"
    And you thought the smart way to get it would be to run in with a gun and take hostages? Was he utterly insane? Or was Mike's friend Ben's theory right-that people of the modern world suffer from a societal illness more endemic than the Black Plague. Terminal stupidity.
    "So, Bob... if I was able to get your job back, would you stand down? Let these nice people go?"
    "Why should I?"
    "Well... they didn't take your job. You have no grudge against them. Why don't we let some of them go. Like maybe the children?" Out the corner of his eye, through the windows that surrounded the restaurant on three sides, Mike spotted the SOT snipers positioning themselves. Damn Hoppes, anyway! Why didn't he keep them out of sight? Those rifles had a thousand-foot range. Why did they have to get right under the man's nose?
    "I guess that'd be all right. But no tricks."
    "I promise you, Bob. No tricks. Let's start with those two over by the door, okay?"
    The children didn't want to leave their parents. Mom and Dad both pushed them toward the door, but they wouldn't go.
    Mike bit down on his lower lip. "Maybe if I escorted them. Okay?"
    "All right, but I'll be- damn !"
    Mike knew what had happened. As Bob turned his head to look at the children, he'd spotted a khaki-clad SOT officer positioning himself by the south entrance.
    "Bob, listen to me. Those men will not harm you."
    "Then why are they here?" He was bouncing back and forth, bellowing. "Why are they here?"
    "They're just trying to protect everyone. They won't hurt you."
    "Make them go away! Make them go away!"
    Mike spoke into his wire. "Hoppes! What the hell are you doing?"
    "Taking charge, Morelli."
    "Hoppes, I am ordering-"
    "Screw you."
    "I am your commanding officer-"
    "You are a goddamn hostage! Out of commission. Therefore, I am forced to take over."
    "Make 'em go away," Bob shouted, waving his gun every which way at once. "Make them stop or I'm gonna kill someone!"
    "Back off!" Mike shouted into the wire.
    The first shot cracked through the glass window on the south side. Everyone in the restaurant hit the floor, including Bob. Several screamed as panic spread through the room. Men and women and children cried and clutched at one another. An elderly man in the rear began reciting the Lord's Prayer.
    The next shot came from the east. It ricocheted off one of the trash receptacles. Close, but not close enough to do any good.
    The third shot came from the south again, and a split second after Mike heard the report, he heard Bob cry out in pain. He'd been hit-but not incapacitated.
    Bob pushed himself back to his feet, bleeding from his right leg. "You lying sons of bitches! You're just like all the others. Just like all the others!"
    He raised his gun and fired, spinning around in a circle. Mike dove behind the condiments counter and hugged the tile floor. The gunfire continued to rain down all around them.
    Mike crawled around the edge of the table area to see what was happening. Bob had snatched up a baby with his right arm and held him close against his head to shield himself. He wrapped his gun arm around the neck of the baby's mother. With hostages flanking him on both sides, it would be all but impossible for the snipers to get a clear shot.
    "Where are you?" Bob shouted. "You lied to me! You told me they wouldn't hurt me!"
    I was misinformed, Mike thought ruefully.
    "Where are you, you lying bastard?"
    Bob whirled around the restaurant, dragging the mother and baby with him. The baby was crying; the mother was screaming. None of it fazed him.
    The