[Quinn 03] - Shadow of Betrayal

The woman gaped at her.

“You do not call my wife ‘bitch.’” Husband, then. Not boyfriend. He moved in close, doing the male intimidation thing.

“What are you going to do? Hit me?” Orlando said, then laughed.

“Hey,” the officer said. “Everyone, calm down.”

But the crowd in the immediate area was already craning their necks to see what was going on, then repeating what they’d heard to the others around them.

“I’m calm,” Orlando said. “Tell her to calm the hell down.”

“Officer, I haven’t done anything wrong. This … woman tried to—”

“I didn’t try to do anything.”

Quinn saw what he’d been waiting for. The officers on either side of the one who was trying unsuccessfully to control the situation had started to look over to see what was going on.

“Lady, you’d better leave before something bad happens,” the husband said.

“Did you hear that?” Orlando said. “He threatened me. Hey, did you hear that? I can press charges for that, you know.”

That did it. All three of them began yelling over the top of one another.

Quinn watched the cop nearest him, the last before the wall. He was looking toward Orlando and the others, leaning ever so slightly in their direction. Then, as the yelling became even more intense, he turned to the people in front of him and said, “Stay here.”

The moment he stepped away to help calm the crowd, Quinn moved to the front.

“He told us to stay here,” someone said.

“I’m with the press,” Quinn said, knowing that would stop them for a few moments.

He made it all the way to the end of the half-wall, and was just turning into the parking lot entrance when a voice shouted behind him, “Hey! Stop!”

He raised his hands in the air, but he kept going.

“Stop or I’ll shoot!”

But Quinn knew that wasn’t true. Just beyond him several kids had been moved out of one of the buildings onto the sidewalk at the other side of the parking lot. Any shot would have had a very good chance of hitting them.

Not only the kids, though. There were a dozen Secret Service agents also in the line of fire. Most of them were now drawing their own weapons and heading in Quinn’s direction.

“Sir, you need to stop right where you are.” This time it was one of the agents who spoke.

“It’s time,” Ms. Stanton said.

Tucker took a deep breath, then removed the electronic activator from his pocket. It had been built into the handset of his cell phone so it would pass unnoticed.

“You’re sure we’re far enough away?” Petersen asked, glancing back toward the auditorium where the explosive devices were waiting.

“Plenty,” Tucker said.

Petersen turned Iris so that her leg was accessible.

“Naaaa,” Iris said, actually scowling at Tucker.

“Just hold still,” he told her.

“Naaaa.”

He touched the series of buttons that engaged the activator. On the display screen a simple bar graph appeared. It was yellow and hovered near the bottom of the screen, but the closer it got to the triggering device embedded in Iris’s leg, the higher the bar rose.

Iris tried to push his hand away.

“Naaaa!” she yelled.

Tucker glanced up and saw that Ms. Stanton was looking in his direction.

“Just a little tired,” he said. “After the drive and everything.”

“Maybe she should wait inside with the others,” Ms. Stanton said.

“She’ll be fine,” Tucker assured her. “I have a juice here for her. That should calm her down.”

Ms. Stanton didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push any further.

“Hold this,” Tucker said to Petersen. He handed him the device. “Just don’t touch any of the buttons.”

Petersen shifted Iris so that he was holding her with only one arm, then took the activator from Tucker. Tucker reached into his pocket and pulled out a juice packet that looked exactly like its more deadly cousins inside, only it was the real thing. He’d grabbed it for just such an emergency. He freed the straw, stuck it in the hole, then held the whole thing out to Iris.

She looked at it, at first acting like she didn’t want it.

“It’s good,” Tucker said. “Come on, take it.”