Read Online Step on a Crack by James Patterson, Michael Ledwidge - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Patterson, Michael Ledwidge
Ads: Link
hymnal. In black ink, someone had written open me right over the musical notes.
Rooney palmed the note as he looked up at the hijackers guarding them. The biggest one-Little John, was it?-sat on the altar as if it were the hood of a car, and he yawned so wide that Rooney could see his back molars.
Rooney opened the note in his lap.
ROONEY-I’M IN THE ROW BEHIND YOU.
SLOWLY
SCOOTCH OVER INTO THE CENTER OF YOUR PEW SO WE CAN TALK. WHATEVER YOU DO, DON’T LET THE SCUM IN FRONT SEE YOU!-CHARLIE CONLAN
Rooney shoved the note into his pocket, at least until he could get rid of it. Over the course of the next few minutes, he slid over the polished ash wood of the pew.
When he was about halfway, a gravelly voice behind him whispered, “Jesus, Johnny. I said slowly, not glacially.”
“Sorry,” Rooney whispered back.
“You saw what they did to Hopkins?” Conlan said.
Rooney nodded grimly. “What do you think they want with the rest of us?” he said.
“Nothing good,” Conlan said. “I guarantee you. Thing that scares me is how surrounded by cops this church is. Only thing between these guys getting shot or going to jail for life is us.”
“What can we do about it, though?” Rooney said.
“Fight back,” Conlan said. “Todd Snow’s a row behind me. He’s talking to the tycoon, Xavier Brown, behind him. With you-it’s four.”
“To do what?” Rooney asked. “You saw what they did to Hopkins when he just opened his mouth.”
“We wait for now. Be patient. Pick our spot. Four of us can take one or two of these guys. We go from there.
John, we may not have a choice
.”
Chapter 29
THE ELATION THAT
New York Times
reporter Cathy Calvin had felt at being released from the cathedral was quickly being burned away by her annoyance at having to wait on line with everybody else to be interviewed by the police. The NYPD had all the detainees corralled outside of Saks Fifth Avenue, and they weren’t letting anyone go until they’d been debriefed by one of four detectives sitting at a row of folding tables set up on the sidewalk.
Calvin noticed for the first time the news-van microwave towers beyond the blue-and-white sawhorses. They rose above the crowd like the masts of some invading armada.
Wait a second. What was she thinking? And complaining about?
She was where everyone else was trying to get. Inside the ropes
!
Calvin quickly calculated the strategic advantage of her position. She’d been in the cathedral before, during, and after the takeover. She was an eyewitness to the siege, which would make it her exclusive.
Then she spotted Carmella, the lingerie supermodel, three people back in line. Not super A-list, but a good start.
“Carmella? Hi. Cathy Calvin from the
Times
. You okay? Where were you when it happened? What did you see in there?”
“I vas near da front on da left,” the six-foot-two blonde said in her best Austrian American accent. “Poor Caroline’s casket had jus come past our pew. Zen Eberhard, my security man, vas shot right in his crotch vith a tear gas canister. Now I can’t find Eberhard anywhere. I keep texting his cell, but he von’t answer. Have you seen him?”
Cathy Calvin looked at the towering model curiously. Maybe she was in shock. Hopefully, that was it.
“Um. I don’t think so,” Cathy said. “Rumor has it that not all of the hostages have been released. You know anything about that? What have you heard?”
“
Hel-lo
,” the blonde said. “Have you seen John Rooney? How about Laura Winston, or zat little slut Mercedes? Zey are still inside. Zee mayor is still inside. Deez hijackers have no taste. Vy else keep such losers and let me go?”
Vy else, indeed,
Cathy Calvin thought, nodding as she carefully backed away from the model. This psycho woman was actually complaining that she wasn’t still inside. Even if the VIP room was under siege, she wanted in. Yeah, celebrities were normal. They were just like you and me.
Calvin turned away as a
Rooney palmed the note as he looked up at the hijackers guarding them. The biggest one-Little John, was it?-sat on the altar as if it were the hood of a car, and he yawned so wide that Rooney could see his back molars.
Rooney opened the note in his lap.
ROONEY-I’M IN THE ROW BEHIND YOU.
SLOWLY
SCOOTCH OVER INTO THE CENTER OF YOUR PEW SO WE CAN TALK. WHATEVER YOU DO, DON’T LET THE SCUM IN FRONT SEE YOU!-CHARLIE CONLAN
Rooney shoved the note into his pocket, at least until he could get rid of it. Over the course of the next few minutes, he slid over the polished ash wood of the pew.
When he was about halfway, a gravelly voice behind him whispered, “Jesus, Johnny. I said slowly, not glacially.”
“Sorry,” Rooney whispered back.
“You saw what they did to Hopkins?” Conlan said.
Rooney nodded grimly. “What do you think they want with the rest of us?” he said.
“Nothing good,” Conlan said. “I guarantee you. Thing that scares me is how surrounded by cops this church is. Only thing between these guys getting shot or going to jail for life is us.”
“What can we do about it, though?” Rooney said.
“Fight back,” Conlan said. “Todd Snow’s a row behind me. He’s talking to the tycoon, Xavier Brown, behind him. With you-it’s four.”
“To do what?” Rooney asked. “You saw what they did to Hopkins when he just opened his mouth.”
“We wait for now. Be patient. Pick our spot. Four of us can take one or two of these guys. We go from there.
John, we may not have a choice
.”
Chapter 29
THE ELATION THAT
New York Times
reporter Cathy Calvin had felt at being released from the cathedral was quickly being burned away by her annoyance at having to wait on line with everybody else to be interviewed by the police. The NYPD had all the detainees corralled outside of Saks Fifth Avenue, and they weren’t letting anyone go until they’d been debriefed by one of four detectives sitting at a row of folding tables set up on the sidewalk.
Calvin noticed for the first time the news-van microwave towers beyond the blue-and-white sawhorses. They rose above the crowd like the masts of some invading armada.
Wait a second. What was she thinking? And complaining about?
She was where everyone else was trying to get. Inside the ropes
!
Calvin quickly calculated the strategic advantage of her position. She’d been in the cathedral before, during, and after the takeover. She was an eyewitness to the siege, which would make it her exclusive.
Then she spotted Carmella, the lingerie supermodel, three people back in line. Not super A-list, but a good start.
“Carmella? Hi. Cathy Calvin from the
Times
. You okay? Where were you when it happened? What did you see in there?”
“I vas near da front on da left,” the six-foot-two blonde said in her best Austrian American accent. “Poor Caroline’s casket had jus come past our pew. Zen Eberhard, my security man, vas shot right in his crotch vith a tear gas canister. Now I can’t find Eberhard anywhere. I keep texting his cell, but he von’t answer. Have you seen him?”
Cathy Calvin looked at the towering model curiously. Maybe she was in shock. Hopefully, that was it.
“Um. I don’t think so,” Cathy said. “Rumor has it that not all of the hostages have been released. You know anything about that? What have you heard?”
“
Hel-lo
,” the blonde said. “Have you seen John Rooney? How about Laura Winston, or zat little slut Mercedes? Zey are still inside. Zee mayor is still inside. Deez hijackers have no taste. Vy else keep such losers and let me go?”
Vy else, indeed,
Cathy Calvin thought, nodding as she carefully backed away from the model. This psycho woman was actually complaining that she wasn’t still inside. Even if the VIP room was under siege, she wanted in. Yeah, celebrities were normal. They were just like you and me.
Calvin turned away as a
Similar Books
