first, checking to make sure no one was there. “Privacy windows,” I instructed as I searched for armed men in the buildings across the street. “Bullet-resistant glass?”
“Yes,” his voic e was serious.
“Good. ” I did a quick sweep of the washroom and made sure his door was locked. Then I picked up my phone to call Mark again. This time the call went through.
“I heard. Are you both okay?” Mark responded before I even spoke, the wonders of caller ID. “I’m on my way. Stay put, and don’t let anyone in but me or the police.”
“ We’re okay. Waiting for you.” We hung up.
“You’re bleeding,” Martin pointed out as he tenderly touched my arm. I looked down.
“It’s nothing. A lthough, those bastards owe me a new jacket.” I felt trapped, and I didn’t like it one bit.
“Come h ere, and let me see that.” He was trying to be helpful. I never pegged him for calm in a crisis situation.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” he sounded frustrated. “I can’t do anything right now, so let me do this.” I knew that feeling all too well. I sighed, and he gently took my jacket off. “Apparently they owe you a shirt, too.”
“Lucky me.” He went to the washroom and came back with a wet towel, wiping away the blood from my gash.
“You might have a piece of glass in there.”
“ Leave it. It’s not that bad.” It was just a small gash, some broken glass from the door, no doubt. He took the towel and tied it around my arm.
“There.” He felt better having done something, even though it wasn’t much of anything.
“Thanks.” I was still scanning the room; I was being hyper-vigilant now. I could have kicked myself for not taking more precautions earlier.
“ No, thank you,” his voice sounded exceptionally sincere. I looked at him. His bright green eyes were staring at me. “If it weren’t for you,” he hesitated, “you really do notice a lot. How did you know?”
“I didn’t. ” I shook my head. It was the truth. “I saw a flash, like from a scope, across the way. I thought a sniper was going to shoot you. I never expected the cart to explode.” I fell silent. Those poor people outside. I shut my eyes for a minute, trying to recall how many were out there. Had there been a line? I couldn’t remember.
There was a knock on the door, and I leveled my gun at the sound. “Who is it?” I asked, jerking my head toward the washroom and indicating Martin should take cover.
“The big bad wolf,” was the reply Mark ye lled, followed by the much more serious response of “police, open up.”
I went to Martin’s desk and hit the unlock button. My gun was still in my hand but not pointed at the door since I wasn’t positive everyone entering was on our side, and I just wanted to have the opportunity to return fire if need be.
“Ma’am, drop the weapon,” were the first words I heard as the door opened.
Eight
I laid my gun on the desk and raised my hands in surrender. The group assembled consisted of Jeffrey, Mark, two uniformed officers, and someone else, likely a detective. One of the uniformed cops took my gun off the table, checking to see if it had been fired recently.
Mark just shook his head. “She’s one of us.”
Martin e merged from the washroom slowly. “Thanks fellas for coming down. I hate to put you all out.” He was being ever cordial. What was his default setting – businessman?
The cop unloaded my weapon and handed i t back to me. I placed it on the desk. There was no need to be armed with an unloaded weapon when you’re in a room full of policemen, I reasoned.
“W hat’s going on out there?” I couldn’t wait any longer. They were going to want to question us, but I wanted to know if they had found anything out. The uniformed cops kept quiet, letting the detective speak.
“Detective Nick O’Connell. ” He held his hand out, and we shook. “It’s a mess down there. We’ve got crime scene, arson, bomb squad,
“Yes,” his voic e was serious.
“Good. ” I did a quick sweep of the washroom and made sure his door was locked. Then I picked up my phone to call Mark again. This time the call went through.
“I heard. Are you both okay?” Mark responded before I even spoke, the wonders of caller ID. “I’m on my way. Stay put, and don’t let anyone in but me or the police.”
“ We’re okay. Waiting for you.” We hung up.
“You’re bleeding,” Martin pointed out as he tenderly touched my arm. I looked down.
“It’s nothing. A lthough, those bastards owe me a new jacket.” I felt trapped, and I didn’t like it one bit.
“Come h ere, and let me see that.” He was trying to be helpful. I never pegged him for calm in a crisis situation.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” he sounded frustrated. “I can’t do anything right now, so let me do this.” I knew that feeling all too well. I sighed, and he gently took my jacket off. “Apparently they owe you a shirt, too.”
“Lucky me.” He went to the washroom and came back with a wet towel, wiping away the blood from my gash.
“You might have a piece of glass in there.”
“ Leave it. It’s not that bad.” It was just a small gash, some broken glass from the door, no doubt. He took the towel and tied it around my arm.
“There.” He felt better having done something, even though it wasn’t much of anything.
“Thanks.” I was still scanning the room; I was being hyper-vigilant now. I could have kicked myself for not taking more precautions earlier.
“ No, thank you,” his voice sounded exceptionally sincere. I looked at him. His bright green eyes were staring at me. “If it weren’t for you,” he hesitated, “you really do notice a lot. How did you know?”
“I didn’t. ” I shook my head. It was the truth. “I saw a flash, like from a scope, across the way. I thought a sniper was going to shoot you. I never expected the cart to explode.” I fell silent. Those poor people outside. I shut my eyes for a minute, trying to recall how many were out there. Had there been a line? I couldn’t remember.
There was a knock on the door, and I leveled my gun at the sound. “Who is it?” I asked, jerking my head toward the washroom and indicating Martin should take cover.
“The big bad wolf,” was the reply Mark ye lled, followed by the much more serious response of “police, open up.”
I went to Martin’s desk and hit the unlock button. My gun was still in my hand but not pointed at the door since I wasn’t positive everyone entering was on our side, and I just wanted to have the opportunity to return fire if need be.
“Ma’am, drop the weapon,” were the first words I heard as the door opened.
Eight
I laid my gun on the desk and raised my hands in surrender. The group assembled consisted of Jeffrey, Mark, two uniformed officers, and someone else, likely a detective. One of the uniformed cops took my gun off the table, checking to see if it had been fired recently.
Mark just shook his head. “She’s one of us.”
Martin e merged from the washroom slowly. “Thanks fellas for coming down. I hate to put you all out.” He was being ever cordial. What was his default setting – businessman?
The cop unloaded my weapon and handed i t back to me. I placed it on the desk. There was no need to be armed with an unloaded weapon when you’re in a room full of policemen, I reasoned.
“W hat’s going on out there?” I couldn’t wait any longer. They were going to want to question us, but I wanted to know if they had found anything out. The uniformed cops kept quiet, letting the detective speak.
“Detective Nick O’Connell. ” He held his hand out, and we shook. “It’s a mess down there. We’ve got crime scene, arson, bomb squad,
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