[Quinn 03] - Shadow of Betrayal

The crowd thinned the farther he got from the school, some choosing one street thinking it would take them to safety, while others chose another. By the time Tucker was within a block of the car, there were only a handful of people still running with him.

He glanced over his shoulder to see how far back Petersen had fallen. He could only see four people. A man and a woman on the other side of the street, gripping each other’s hands as they fled. And on his side, farther back, a teenage girl, and behind her several paces a woman.

Nowhere did he see Petersen.

Jesus Christ, he thought. Hell if he was going to wait more than a couple minutes tops. If Petersen didn’t make it by then, he’d have to find his own way out.

Tucker began scanning the street for the Honda. It was only a few moments before he spotted it near the end of the block. As he started to open the driver’s door, he heard steps running on the asphalt behind him. But before he could turn to see who it was, a voice yelled out at him.

“Don’t even think about moving.”

The chaos outside the school was intensified inside by the restricted space of the lobby Quinn found himself in. There were adults and children everywhere, screaming and crying and consoling and whispering. They were all too preoccupied to notice Quinn joining them.

My God, he thought. If the explosives are in here, we’re all already dead.

He knew he couldn’t let that stop him. He whipped his head around, searching for Iris. There were kids everywhere, some even holding juice boxes, but he couldn’t see the girl.

A set of double doors that led off the lobby flew open. From inside, several Secret Service agents rushed out.

“Get everyone into the auditorium with the others,” one of the agents yelled while his colleagues ran toward the doors to the outside.

The auditorium, the man had said. With the others. It was where the First Lady and the other spouses would have been taken. Where the best opportunity for total success would be. That’s where the explosives would have been taken, Quinn realized. He had to keep Iris from entering the room.

The crowd surged forward, everyone but the agents wanting to get as far away from the outside as possible. Quinn tried to push through them to get to the front so he could see Iris before she went through the doors.

He was only ten feet away when someone said, “Oh, my God. You’re him. The guy from outside.”

Several people cried out in fear, while others tried to move away from him as fast as possible. Quinn glanced back at the doors to the outside, and was relieved to see all the agents were gone. Civilians he could deal with, Feds with guns were slightly more problematic.

“Out of my way!” he yelled as he rushed forward through the door to the auditorium.

The room was large. The stage at the other end of the room was at least a hundred feet away. Those inside were gathered near it. Some looked at him curiously, having no idea who he was. Against the wall near the stage was a low stack of boxes. Trays, really. He’d seen them before in markets. A couple dozen juice boxes plastic- wrapped to a cardboard base. Oh, God.

He scanned the room looking for Iris, but the girl wasn’t there. He returned to the lobby.

Most of the people there had moved to one corner and were crowded together, staring at him as if they expected him to attack them all. As he started to raise his hands in front of him in an effort to make them relax, the door to the outside opened.

Quinn retrieved the gun he’d taken from the agent in the parking lot out of its temporary holding place under the waist of his pants behind his back, and pointed it at the widening gap.

“Hey. Chill out. I’m just here to see if you need any help.”

It was Nate.

Quinn allowed himself a relieved breath, then asked, “Orlando?”

“Don’t know. I’ve been alone since you left.”

Quinn nodded. With the chaos, it would have been surprising if they had found each other. He turned his attention back to the group cowering against the wall.

“Who’s in charge here?” he called out.

There were a few murmurs, then several people looked toward a woman standing near the middle of the group. She appeared to be in her fifties, and had the look of a school administrator, caring but strong.

After a second, she said, “Leave us alone. We won’t bother you.”

“So you’re in charge?” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m in charge of this school.”

“What’s your name?”

She hesitated. “Ms. Stanton. Now please, leave. You’re scaring the children.”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn said. “We’re not here to hurt anyone.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I’m looking for a girl. She’s about five, and African.”

“I’m not letting you take any of the children,” Ms. Stanton said.

Quinn ignored her. “The girl’s name is Iris.”