Page 114 of Fatal Strike
Six minutes later, a text landed in his phone. Jon snatched his device. He forced strength into his body and read the update with a raspy voice. “The van is surrounded by police in themiddle of a parking lot in Seabrook.” He paused. “Shootings reported. I have the address.”
His cough shook the vehicle.
“We need SWAT on this.” She took Jon’s phone and tapped in a number at a traffic light.
His thoughts raced faster. SWAT would take too long to mobilize.
73
JON WAS READY TO JUMP OUTof the car as soon as Leah stopped beside a barricade of Seabrook police cars, all with lights flashing. Everson pulled in and raced toward Jon and Leah. They joined the Seabrook police and learned Warren was still inside the stolen van.
Too many times a showdown caused those holed up to panic and come out shooting. Jon feared Everson might be just as caustic. A potential problem when the chief of police’s emotions veered toward revenge on many levels. Jon quickly asserted the FBI’s authority in the jurisdictional soup.
Jon glanced at Leah and whispered, “We’ve got to keep Everson away from the scene before someone is killed.”
“I’ll handle this,” Everson said.
“You’ll get yourself killed.” Jon coughed, his chest seared raw.
“You’re in no shape to do anything but head to the hospital.” He touched his sidearm. “Livingston and Rios are mine.”
“To gun down?” Leah said. “How would Marcia feel about it?”
“I’d be doing it for her.”
Jon shook his head. “Everson, an angry man can’t reason with a criminal. SWAT is on its way, and we can barricade the area.”
Jon’s words were barely uttered before Everson jogged toward the van. He raised his hands. “Warren, let’s end this before anyone else gets hurt. We can talk. No need for any more bloodshed.”
Jon’s shouts were drowned out by the sound of gunfire erupting from a broken window.
Zachary Everson went down, blood spreading across his chest.
Jon and Leah ran toward him, firing into the van. Seabrook police rushed forward, providing cover and shooting out the van’s tires while Jon and Leah pulled Everson back to the line of police cars.
Jon prayed it wasn’t too late.
Leah checked Everson’s pulse. “He’s alive.” She stepped aside for the paramedics, who bent to administer emergency treatment.
“They will never surrender,” Jon said.
“I’m thinking the same thing,” Leah said.
“Can you negotiate?” He broke into a burning cough. “My voice is—”
“Worthless. Sure, I can bullhorn.”
“I have an idea. I’ll retrieve a flash-bang and work my way around the van.” He handed her his phone and looked behind him to an officer who matched his stature and had the same dark hair. Jon bent low and made his way to the man. He explained the need to change clothes and for the officer to appear as though paramedics were treating him.
Leah grabbed a bullhorn and went into action. “Warren, this is Agent Leah Riesel. Everyone in there okay?”
“Leah, good to hear your sweet voice. I see you survived the fire. But let’s spare the chitchat.”
“We have proof of your crimes, Warren. This is going to go one of two ways. If I were you, I’d opt for a peaceful solution.”
He snorted. “I’ll take my chances right here. Got me plenty of ammo and a plan.”
Jon ducked and moved around the cruisers. He needed to get to the passenger side of the van undetected, shoot out a window, and toss in the flash-bang. Guaranteed to deafen and disorient those inside. Between the ringing of their ears and the temporary blindness, Warren and his cohorts could be overpowered.
