Peter entered the building, its marble polished to a shine which reflected his and other passerbys. A sudden moment of abandonment flooded him, his dark thoughts telling him his father should be here, instead the older Caine had left once again.
It was not the first time, nor did he doubt the last that such a thought broke in. Annie had told him it was much like the devil trying to turn him from his path. Self-doubts that had troubled him after he took the brands still plagued him, though he strived to rise above it.
Entering the building, he scanned the room for a seat. The council room was made like a stadium, the u-shaped table at the bottom with thin padded chairs, and rising up the sides in tiers were theater seats, most already occupied.
A face appeared in front of him as he looked to the side. "Mom, how did…why are…who brought you here? Where's Dad?" Peter questioned, never giving himself time to finish a question or her to answer.
Annie felt for Peter's arm that he had extended to her, a smile lit her face. Automatically and with maternal instincts, Annie reached up, caressed Peter's face. "Paul brought me and Jessie. He wanted to talk to our representative. We came because your idea needs community support. Now, show me to where Jessie is sitting."
Peter looped her arm through his and stepped to her right, avoiding the four prong cane in her left, a device she had to use after being shot months ago.
Looking down to the main floor as he led his foster mother to a row of vacant seats next to Jessie, Peter spotted Paul Blaisdell.
"I see Paul. Look, you sit right here and I'll be right back," Peter told his mother and friend, and helped her to sit down. Another glance to the floor's arena was disturbed by the sound of the gavel by the Mayor.
This meeting will now come to order," Mayor shook announced, brooking no argument from the citizens in the gallery.
Everyone took their seat, lowering their voices, getting ready for the meeting to begin. Paul looked up as he started toward the section of seats reserved for those on his agenda. He smiled when he saw first Peter coming toward him, and then Annie seated safely behind him.
***
Having grown up in the political eye, Billy knew the ins and outs of the city hall. It had been his playground only a few years ago, a playground where he had explored every inch of the three storied building.
The janitor had taught Billy how to make himself invisible to the people working and doing business with the city leaders and clerks. Finding the lessons useful, Billy quietly pulled two duffel bags from the janitor's closet. Dressed in the Khaki uniform he'd retrieved from the uniform supply office, he placed the bags in the dry mop bucket and began pushing it down the hall after covering the bags with a dry mop.
"You'd better be on time, Tommy," he swore under his breath, his head slightly bowed, keeping a low profile.
Tommy finished placing the packages where he'd been told. Assured by his brother that the explosives were only for intimidation, he set the last one in front of Alderman Fishman's office door.
His job done, he took a quick look into the office where his father had once sat. The leather chair, brown with gold trim, was as he remembered it. It was as though he could still see his father looking over his desk, grinning at the mischief his two sons had got into.
Patting the door, Tommy turned and left, sure he'd see his father once again.
Billy's impatience engaged his anger. Tommy was five minutes late, throwing the meticulous schedule behind, perhaps endangering their goal.
Quick steps alerted Billy who forced himself not to yell at his younger sibling. It would cost more precious minutes.
"It's about time," Billy declared, stopping himself from furthering his tirade. "Come on."
The single door was the back entrance to the council floor. With an Uzi in one hand and a duffel bag over his other shoulder, he motioned for Tommy to get the other, then opened the door, firing one shot at the Sergeant at Arms.
Peter stood and approached the microphone reserved for those who wanted to speak to the city leaders. A banister separated him from the nine-member committee, giving him something to hold on to as he centered himself.
So many emotions surrounded him. He tried to concentrate on just those before him. Boredom poured from two councilmen, aggravating Peter. Another was anxious, while three others were interested in what went on around them.
Plunging in, Peter began his speech, "Mrs. Mayor and Aldermen, I'm here representing the melting pot of our city. In this day and time, where we must learn to live with others, I have found that we must learn of others, and that includes their culture. As a member of the police department, I see crime each and every day. As a Shaolin priest, I feel the uncertainty of those for others. I feel there should be a day, or even a week, set aside in the school system to educate our children about themselves and those around them. The acts of violence that have seeped from the streets into the hallways of schools across the nation, could be curbed if only the youth understood one another."
Peter paused, surveying the members, glad to see some heads nodding. An odd feeling, hair standing on the back of his neck, was the only signal he had before the door to the back of the council chamber opened up and a young man stepped through, firing one shot before announcing his intentions.
***
Seeing the Sergeant at Arms shot down and two men carrying automatic weapons had people screaming in fear, in rage. Several more men in the gallery stood and exposed their weapons, shooting them into the ceiling.
Peter had felt the evil only a second before it had entered the room, followed by a lost soul.
"No one moves or you'll wind up like him," the leader pointed to the injured officer, sitting with his back propped against the wall, his blood smeared on the white paneling as he slid down to sit on the floor.
"William Liggin! What is the meaning of…" Mayor Shook's words were ended with more gunfire, more screams and people near the exit running for the door.
Tommy watched, seeing the way to get their father, flee through the doors. "Stop!" he shouted, shooting out the window above the doors, halting the escape process. Several people were shot as they ran up the stairway. When Tommy shouted, the shooting stopped, the screaming became quiet as all eyes turned to the meek gunman.
Peter stood still and attempted a light trance, flooding the room with calm as best he could. Against only two gunmen, he could take the anger and diffuse it as his father and Lo Si had taught him, but with six gunmen and a room full of panicking citizens, it was impossible.
He reached out for Annie and felt his mother's fear for him, then to Paul…"Jessie," he whispered, knowing and feeling the pain in her shoulder.
Ignoring the order to be still, Peter turned and saw Jessie holding her shoulder, blood running between her fingers and down her hand as Annie held her close.
*Jessie?* Peter sent mentally, their link having grown stronger in the past year.
Pain came back across the link, with her words. *I'm fine. It…it just…hurts.*
"I said turn around!" angry words were punctuated by a muzzle to Peter's ribs. "She your woman?"
Swiveling back to meet the gunman, Peter attempted to read the man before him. The evil nature he felt before the attack consumed the younger man. "No, she's a friend," he answered. "Why don't we talk about this, there is no need for anyone else to get hurt."
"Why don't we talk about this," Billy mimicked, then drew back his gun and slapped Peter's cheek, smiling as his captive held onto the banister, but never fell. "Oh, we have a hero here. Just who the hell are you?"
"I-I know h-him, Billy," Tommy answered. "His f-father was an alderman on-once. He-He's a cop."
"A cop, huh? Well, when your friends get here, I'll let you and your woman there, go and meet them." Billy smiled and went over to the council seats and issued his rules.
***
Delancy's was filled with officers, lawyers, salesmen, and others. They each came to relax after a hard day at work; some to meet friends while others came to meet dates or wives.
A television was mounted above the bar, its station tuned to Channel 3, the bartender's girlfriend on the news.
"Hey guys, be quiet, will ya? Sandra's on," the muscled bartender requested, turning the volume up on the set.
The camera panned the front of city hall, dusk casting shadows on police cars that had set up a perimeter, preventing people from getting close.
"Again, the entire city council and those in attendance at tonight's meeting, have been taken hostage. The kidnappers demands…oh, wait, I see someone coming through the door." Sandra had heard the commotion of officers behind her and had turned her head to see what was going on.
Moving so the camera could film the action behind her, she watched, as did several hundred other people, the drama before them. Four people exited the building, though not far. A man and woman were first and stopped just out of the doorframe, the glass door propped open by the tall dark-haired man. Behind the couple was another man with a woman beside him, her cane barely visible, her eyes hidden by the sunglasses.
"You want to know what I want?" the man standing in the back yelled. "I've tell you what I want. I want my father back and unless I get him in the next hour, I'll start killing people every fifteen minutes! I left instructions on the Mayor's desk and I expect them to be followed. Any double crosses and you'll be sorry!"
Standing at a safe distance, his flak jacket over his dark uniform, the captain of the SWAT team spoke into his bullhorn. "It may take us longer than an hour to get your father. Why don't you let most of the hostages go and give use some time?"
Without hesitating, the abductor put a gun to the woman's head before him and pulled the trigger then quickly pulled the other two hostages back inside the building as the city watched in horror.
"Oh, no. He killed her. Right in front of us," Sandra reported, tears threatening to roll from her eyes as she turned back to the camera.
***
"Annie," the word was whispered.
Stunned by the news, the small group of detectives from the 101st precinct gathered around their captain, ready for orders, forgetting they were off the clock and the situation at City Hall was out of their jurisdiction.
"Should have known the kid would wind up being a shield," Kermit commented, as he took the last gulp of beer from his glass then adjusted his coat. "Anyone coming with me?"
Karen gently laid her had on his arm, ignoring the glare she knew he shot her from behind the dark sunglasses. "Where are we going?"
The stand off between the two had the others halt their preparations to leave. Their attention was turned to the news as Sandra Mason began to tell of who the hostages were.
"Don't say his name, Sandra," Mary Margaret silently pleaded.
"It doesn't matter, they know he's a cop," Dakota said before turning to leave.
"And just how do you know that?" Kermit asked, shrugging his arm away from Karen's restraining hand.
Dakota's eyes held a sadness as he pivoted back around. "I taught him sign language. He must have figured I was watching, or at least hoped I was. He told me there had been killings, injuries and they knew who he is."
"Well, gentlemen and ladies, I say we move this party to another area," Simms announced as she slipped into her jacket, pulling her long hair out from the collar.
Jody stopped, seeing Dakota was not following. "What's wrong?"
"My sister was one of the injured."
Police cars and officers held the crowd of spectators and news reporters at a safe distance. The crumpled body that had once been a living being, was carried away, awkwardly held by three SWAT team members.
Simms, flanked by her officers, walked up to Captain Newman, leader of the SWAT team. "Captain," she greeted him, her eyes fixed on the building where guns were aimed.
He gave her a sideways glance, ignoring those behind her and answered, "And what do we owe this pleasure, Captain Simms?"
"One of my men is in there. We've come to offer our assistance."
A smirk as he attempted to keep a rueful laugh to himself, showed. "And we are nothing unless the officers of the 101st are here to save the day? Oh, we bow to your wisdom." He bowed, mocking the ritualistic gesture.
"Peter Caine is a hostage in there, and so are a lot of innocent people. We could work together." Karen stopped, slowly blinking as she turned to face the other captain. When he met her eyes, she continued. "It seems that Detective Dakota and Detective Caine are able to communicate with each other using sign language. If we can get the suspect to come back outside, maybe we can get more information from Caine."
Newman scowled, knowing that she was right. This bit of revelation went against all he had believed in…women were not cut out to be police officers, much less Captains. To him, they should be secretaries, nurses, or stay at home moms. Heaving a sigh, he nodded. "All right, but…" he emphasized, "I give the orders, understood?"
Karen smiled, thinking that she would at least keep the bargain. However, she was not sure of those that followed her.
"What are his demands and who is he?" Kermit asked, stepping forward, mentally reviewing the council chamber floor plans from his last visit.
Pulling out an envelope from his pocket, Newman began to read the paper that had been in the envelope. "William Liggin. His father was William Liggin, Senior. The alderman convicted of embezzling over a hundred thousand dollars from the city. He's serving time in the pen at West Jefferson. Seems the boy wants his father released and he and his brother then want to fly with daddy to the Bahamas, along with half a million dollars."
"Well, we have forty-five minutes to meet his demands or more people will be killed. I know for fact that Peter Caine and Paul Blaisdell are in there right now. We could use them, but first we need to know what to expect," Dakota broke in. "How about using the back entrance?"
"They've got bombs set to go off if they are touched. Letter says that if one bomb is detonated, then we could expect more bodies. We were allowed to go into the Mayor's office. That's how we can communicate with them, there's an intercom that goes from the office to the council chambers," Newman supplied, whipping his face of sweat with a handkerchief.
The small group crowded together, only one thing was on their mind. Karen voiced that need, "Let's get us a plan going, shall we?"