Calling the Beast Read online

  Jim saw the SWAT team's familiar boxy dark blue van parked a block away from his destination. He drove one block farther, then steered the Ford into the employee's parking lot behind the museum, readjusting the headset as he pulled the pickup to a stop.

  Patch me through to Banks, he ordered, wincing at the crackles and pops that assaulted his sensitive ears as he was connected to his captain. Simon, are you there? he asked impatiently when there was no immediate response.

  // Hold on a second, // came Banks' terse reply. // I've got Pike on another line. I'll have an update for you in just a moment. //

  Frustrated with the delay, the Sentinel grabbed the cell phone from the passenger seat and climbed out of the truck, shutting the door softly. He raised the phone to his right ear and listened for a few seconds. Satisfied that the high-pitched shrieks he heard were happy ones, he lowered the device. Taking a quick look around to get his bearings, he started weaving his way through the rows of parked cars, working his way toward the west wing. He caught sight of an emergency exit and realized that he was on the side of the structure where the Director's office was situated -- the opposite side from where he needed to be.

  He also saw something else. An oversized windowless panel van was parked only a few feet away from the door. From his position, he could see the reflection of the driver in the side mirror. The man looked nervous.

  That's got to be Hennesey's van... Jim realized. Looks like he came prepared to make quite a haul.

  Refusing to dwell on how many young hostages -- and jewel-laden artifacts -- the robbers could fit inside the huge van, the detective carefully placed the cell phone in his pocket and worked his way over to the vehicle. He came up on it from the passenger's side, using the other parked cars in the lot for cover. Pulling his gun from the holster at his back, Jim slipped silently alongside the van until he was crouched next to the passenger door. Extending his hearing, he monitored the driver for any sign that the man had observed his approach. Finding none, he took a deep breath, grabbed the handle and wrenched the door open.

  Faced with the business end of Ellison's gun only inches from his face, the man offered no resistance. Jim pulled him out of the driver's seat and stuffed him into the back end of the van, cuffing him to the base of one of the seat frames. Then he contacted his captain again. The detective reported the situation tersely and crawled out of the van, closing the rear door quietly.

  Jim cut across a neatly manicured strip of lawn and turned left at the end of the building. Sentinel vision scanned ahead, searching for the window that his partner had described. He located the small pane of glass quickly and slid along the wall until he stood directly underneath it. Standing on his toes, he peered inside. He cocked his head, detecting a soft buzzing sound emanating from the frame. The security system was still active.

  // Jim, are you there? //

  Yeah, Simon. I'm on Sandburg's side of the west wing, outside the restroom. Jim eyed the window critically and hoped that his partner's assessment that the kids and Amanda would fit through it was accurate. The opening looked painfully small -- barely eighteen inches across and maybe a foot deep. What's the status on the shut down?

  // They're still working on it. They're telling me that it'll be no more than ten minutes. //

  Jim glanced at his watch and grimaced. We're going to be cutting this close, Simon...

  // I know, but everyone's doing their best. I'm pulling up behind the SWAT truck now. Brown and Rafe are right behind me. I'll send Henri your way to help you with the kids. I've got another team assigned to meet the museum staff when they exit on their side. We'll take care of things out front and be ready to move in as soon as you let us know the children and Sandburg's assistant are accounted for. //

  I'll stay here until Brown joins me, Simon, but then I'm going in through the emergency door on the other side.

  // Jim -- //

  I'm not leaving Sandburg in there like a sitting duck, Jim snarled. Hennesey's got to have at least one of his men posted close to the front entrance. He'll alert the rest of them the second he sees you coming in. You can bet Hennesey's first move will be to gather up any hostage he can get his hands on and I have no intention of letting him or any of his thugs near my partner.

  // You're going to be one gun against five, // Simon argued.

  I'll bring some backup in with me... besides, I've got some advantages that they don't, sir, Jim said, obliquely reminding his captain of his Sentinel abilities. But we could use another edge. Hennesey obviously planned to go out through the emergency exit from this wing instead of using the front doors. He's got to have one of his men watching that corridor. Even after the power's cut to the security system, the museum staff aren't going to be able to slip out unseen. Can you find out from Pike where the museum's circuit breakers are located? If we can station someone on the controls, we could kill the lights as a diversion --

  // That'll have us all operating in the dark, Jim. //

  Only for a few seconds. I'm sure there's an emergency backup system -- I think I remember seeing safety lights in the corridors the last time I was in the museum with Sandburg. Check with Pike -- they're probably battery operated or work off a separate electrical grid. Most of those systems are set to kick in when there's a power outage.

  // So we'd have a few seconds of darkness to get our people into the corridor, which puts us in place to cover the museum staff's escape when the safety lights come on. Good idea. That might make the critical difference. I'll get the location of the breakers and send Rafe in -- he's dressed for the part of a museum dilettante. //

  Jim nodded absently at the reference to the younger detective's GQ wardrobe. Agreed. I'll contact Amanda. Out.

  As the kids continued to dance around the room shaking their rattles, Blair anxiously watched the door, praying that he wasn't bringing unwarranted attention to his charges. He was taking a chance -- the noise they were making was surely carrying beyond the closed door of the classroom, reminding the men in the display room of their presence -- but it was a necessary risk. The tape of the rattling was crucial to his hastily conceived plan and he needed several minutes of it.

  A slightly raised bushy eyebrow and the flicker of his dark eyes were the only external signs that Gavin Hennesey was doing anything other than enjoying the sight of the artifacts in the glass case before him. Cool, calm and controlled -- that was his style.

  Beneath the calm exterior, his sharp mind was already examining the sounds drifting from the classroom -- cataloguing them and considering whether they posed any threat to his plans.

  The high-pitched shrieks and laughter were easy to identify, but the other rattling and clacking sounds had him puzzled. He glanced toward the tall, heavy-set man who was idly examining a display near the entrance to the hallway on the classroom side of the smaller exhibit room. Frank Nollan sent his boss a questioning look in return.

  Hennesey frowned and did a quick scan around the rest of the exhibit. Outside of himself and his own men, there was no one present. He listened intently to the odd sounds that he couldn't quite place, trying to decide whether he should send Nollan in to check on the kids and their teachers. He glanced at his watch. They still had time to kill before the first tour group arrived and that was when he intended to make his move. He didn't want to alert anyone to the fact that he and his five men were anything but tourists -- especially not a classroom full of noisy kids.

  He flashed Nollan a hand signal to stay where he was, but to remain alert. The other man acknowledged the order with a nod and went back to 'studying' the case in front of him.

  He could stand there staring at those pieces forever and not understand anything about them, brooded Hennesey in disgust. He pushed the disparaging thought away immediately. Nollan was brawn, not brains, and he'd proved his worth in that area often enough in the past.

  Still wary and alert to the sounds of the children, Hennesey began a slow circuit of the exhibit, checking on the position of his crew and
also going over his mental checklist of what they intended to liberate from the displays. He walked casually over to a glassed case of small jade carvings that was located near the arched open doorway between the larger exhibit room and the smaller one, pausing there for a moment.

  At the far end of the large room, a short, blond-haired man was standing nose to nose with a hammered gold mask. It was ironic that Mark Smith, a man with a Masters in art history, was practically drooling over an artifact that he was about to steal and destroy. Hennesey smothered a laugh, knowing that it wasn't a love of art, but a lust for money that had brought the man into his employ.

  Hennesey let his gaze drift beyond Smith to the small portion of the main lobby he could see through the doorway at the far end. His younger brother Ben was stationed out there, watching for the tour group and also, supposedly, keeping an eye out for trouble. The reservations Gavin had felt about having family involved in his business hadn't disappeared, although Ben had shown a marked talent for dealing with sophisticated electronic systems.

  And since it was my money that sent him through technical school to learn those skills, I suppose I should take advantage of it, Hennesey mused. As long as he continues to pull his own weight, he can hang on for the ride.

  And it was a ride -- a gloriously successful one. He'd had his doubts about coming to Cascade, but they'd managed to hit it big with each jewelry store they'd taken down. And they'd managed to stay a jump or two ahead of the cops. This score would be the icing on the cake. He'd been following the progress of the exhibit as it had traveled from one museum to another across the country, waiting until just the right combination of place, time and circumstances made it safe to hit. It was too tempting a target to pass up any longer.

  The layout of the museum with its convenient back door right off of the exhibit meant an easy way out. Timing the hit to the mid-morning hours of a weekday assured them very little traffic inside the museum and outside on the streets. Combined with the roomful of easily managed hostages that the scheduled seminar program provided, those aspects made attempting the score irresistible.

  Hennesey let his eyes rove over the two rooms. The larger one was filled with bigger artifacts -- sculptures, fragments of reliefs, castings taken from ancient tombs -- most of those gathered in displays in the center of the space. Masks and textiles draped the walls and glassed display cases ringed the perimeter.

  He shifted position to the opposite side of the case he was supposedly examining and eyed the inner chamber. The room was filled with a number of glassed exhibits of various sizes, mounted on marble pedestal bases. A few smaller masks hung on these walls as well. Besides Nollan to his left, two more of his men were playing their roles, pretending to be absorbed and awed by the items displayed.

  Hennesey nodded to acknowledge the signal that Sam Bartleson flashed at him, indicating his readiness. He knew he could depend on the man. They'd met in prison and had formed an allegiance based on need in order to survive. Gavin had quickly discovered that Bartleson was the perfect front man. Nondescript, of average height and build, Sam could case any potential site without raising the suspicions of the most watchful security guards. Bartleson's current meandering path would take him to the right side of the inner chamber and put him in position to keep the museum staff under control.

  Brian Matthews, the remaining member of his team was a recent addition, but Hennesey was pleased with the man's intelligence and cleverness. So pleased, that he was willing to overlook Matthew's tendency toward brutality. Matthews shot his boss a quick glance and went back to leafing through the exhibit catalog.

  Abruptly, Hennesey realized that the bothersome noises that he'd heard coming from the classroom minutes earlier had disappeared. He shot a quick look at Nollan, but the man shook his head and shrugged.

  Maybe the teachers finally got the little pests under control.

  Still, he was irritated. He didn't like things that didn't go to plan. Brushing a hand across his coat as if to dust away a piece of lint, he touched the smooth hard shape of the rifle concealed there. That -- and the weight of the Berretta in the holster strapped to his right leg -- reassured him that trouble, if it arose, would be easily handled. He was well armed, as were his men. More than a match for the kid the museum had running around as their token security guard.

  Hennesey took a deep breath and let it out slowly, expelling his tension. Straightening to his full six feet, four inches of height, he rolled his shoulders and moved away from the display case, continuing his circuit as time ticked away.

  From his position outside the museum, Ellison pushed the headset mike aside. He pulled the cell phone from his jacket pocket and raised it to his ear. Amanda... There was a sharp intake of breath and behind it the noises of the children.

  // Yes? //

  It's time. Ten minutes until the power's off.

  // Okay. //

  I'm outside right now, Jim assured her. I'll be waiting at the window to help you with the kids. // I... I understand... //

  One more thing... remind Blair that a panther can see in the dark.

  // What? //

  Just tell him... he'll understand, the Sentinel murmured. I hope...

  When Blair saw Amanda stiffen and turn her back to the circle of dancing kids, the cell phone raised to her ear, he knew it was time to move on to the next phase. He quickly stepped down from the platform and moved clockwise around the circle, tapping each of the children on the shoulder. When they opened their eyes he put a finger to his lips to indicate that they should be silent, but motioned for them to keep shaking their rattles. They did as he indicated, settling like a small flock of birds to roost. He returned to his own place, seated himself, and shook his own rattle in slower and slower motions, which the children quickly copied. Finally Blair touched his own gourd to the floor and left it lying there. He reached over and hit the stop button on the recorder, just in time to cut off the delighted shrieks of laughter that erupted from the kids.

  He let them rough-house and chatter for a few moments, rewinding the tape and queuing it up to the beginning of the section he'd just recorded. A soft touch on his shoulder startled him. He looked up abruptly into Amanda's fear-pinched face.

  Jim says ten minutes, she whispered.

  Blair swallowed hard. You know what you need to do? he asked in the same tone, taking the phone that she held out to him. At her nod, the grad student grasped her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. Marisa will be first.

  Amanda nodded again. Jim said something else... said you'd understand... He said to remind you that 'a panther can see in the dark'.

  Blair frowned and then suddenly nodded. Thanks, I do understand, he said, loudly enough to assure both her and his Sentinel that he had deciphered the cryptic comment. He placed the phone carefully on the step next to him. Amanda turned away and took up a position near the door.

  Okay, Blair called out, dragging the kid's attention back to him. You all did great. I swear, the room's alive with chirping and fluttering critters.

  He grinned at their laughter, and then froze as something flittered by Marisa's head. He blinked, and it -- whatever it had been -- was gone.

  Damn, for a second, I could have sworn I saw a butterfly... come on, Sandburg, get it together. Don't go off the deep end, now. Tell the story and get on with it.

  To hide his own nervousness, Blair pulled his glasses out of his shirt pocket and wiped them on his shirt tail before putting them on. Better to see the spirits, with, he joked. Now, where were we... Oh, yeah, the story.

  He took a deep breath and picked up his rattle, giving it one quick shake. I want you to close your eyes, he instructed the children. No peeking now. Your imaginations are going to fuel this tale, powered by the animal spirits that you've summoned. In a few moments, I'm going to begin and I'm going to ask you to concentrate very hard and follow every direction that either Amanda or I give you. It's going to be a temptation to play with your rattles, but I need you to keep them quiet, unti
l I say it's all right to use them.

  Amanda's a part of this too? asked Kim softly.

  Yes, a very important part. Blair's eyes flickered to Amanda and he smiled tightly. She's going to play the part of the young Indian maiden who helps the Shaman -- that's going to be me, by the way -- save the children -- that's all of you.

  From what? Jenny demanded, her eyes snapping open.

  Close your eyes, Jenny, and I'll tell you, Blair admonished. Eyes all closed? He took a quick look around the circle and drew in a deep breath. All right. This story is based upon a legend that I know for a fact is very real. I want you to picture yourselves deep in the jungles of Peru...

  There was a small village, tucked into the base of a chain of towering mountains. This was so long ago, that the skies had never seen another flying beast other than those that the Gods had placed there. The waters that tumbled from a noisy waterfall near the center of the village, ran pure and clean. The villagers were a hard working tribe, who had tamed a small area of the surrounding jungle for crops. Mostly though, they depended on the hunters of the tribe to supply them with fresh game, of which there was plenty in abundance. The jungle fed them, the mountains sheltered them, and they were, for the most part, at peace even though it was a hard life, with survival always foremost on their minds.

  Critical to their survival, was the strength of the tribe's elders and their warriors. This village was doubly blessed, since they had not only a mighty chief, but also a Sentinel. The Sentinel was one of the tribe's warriors... someone who patrolled the borders... a Watchman. The Sentinel was chosen because of a genetic advantage...