There were two ways to get to the crime lab—from the museum side on the third floor, and from an eleva tor on the outside of the building. When she installed the crime lab, Diane had an elevator built on the out side of the museum that went directly to the third floor and opened into the crime lab. At ground level was a small room with an outside door that provided access to the elevator. That room always had a recep tionist and a guard on duty in the daytime and a guard at night. It was that room that apparently was compro mised.
Chanell sent two guards up to the third floor to reinforce the ones that were already there. Diane, Chanell, and two guards left the museum by the main front door and walked around the outside of the build ing toward the west wing.
It was already dark. The parking lot lights were on and the entire front lot was illuminated. Diane could see that some of the lights were out just ahead toward the west wing. Not good.
They had to thread through a stream of people en tering and leaving through the door to the museum restaurant. Diane and the security personnel went at a fast walk, and Diane hoped they weren’t attracting the attention of the diners.
It was cold. Diane hadn’t thought to bring a coat. She walked faster.
Just ahead two security guards came out of the dou ble doors of the main entrance to the west wing of the building.
The ropes were up that blocked people from park ing on the west end after museum hours. They ducked under the ropes and proceeded to the end of the building.
This was taking too long. It was a flaw in the ar rangement. They needed a quicker way to get to the outside entrance to the crime lab elevator. They stopped just as they got to the corner of the building.
‘‘Send a couple of guards back through the dino room, out the back entrance. Have them come around the building from that way,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Good idea,’’ said Chanell.
‘‘Let’s not have any shooting unless it’s life or death. I don’t want to alarm the restaurant visitors,’’ said Diane.
Two security guards went back into the building. Another two went around the corner ahead of Diane and Chanell, who followed when they saw the guards gesture that it was clear.
There was no one outside the entrance to the small room at the base of the elevator. They couldn’t see behind the room, but the two guards who went around the building should be there soon.
Diane listened for the sound of the elevator. She looked at the shaft on the side of the building that housed the elevator car—not that she could see any thing. She supposed she looked because that’s where the sound would come from if the elevator was in use. But there was no noise of any kind except the background noise of people entering and leaving the restaurant.
It was cold enough to produce puffs of fog with each breath. Diane’s fingers were starting to ache. What was she thinking, not grabbing a coat and gloves? She blew into her hands.
She heard the noise first, for she was the first one to turn her head in the direction of the door. The door opened slowly, then stopped after a couple of inches. Her security staff trained their guns in that direction. Chanell motioned for Diane to get behind them.
Her heart thumped in her chest and made a lump in her throat. Suddenly and violently the door burst open. A figure dressed from head to foot in black came out of the door holding a young woman in front of him. He had one arm around her throat and was holding a gun to her head with the other hand. She was lightly dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.
There was silence for a moment: the figure holding a hostage confronting Diane’s security guards. A face- off.
The male voice of the perp broke the silence.
‘‘Leave us or I’ll kill her.’’
So common. But Diane hadn’t expected creativity. ‘‘That’s Mickey’s wife,’’ Chanell whispered to Diane.
Mickey was the security guard for this end of the building. That must be how the perp got Mickey to open the door—he used Mickey’s wife. The problem for the perp, though, was that Mickey didn’t know the key code to the crime lab door once the elevator got up there. Bad planning.
Mickey’s wife coughed. The perp pushed the muzzle of the gun against her temple and told her to shut up.
‘‘Let her go,’’ said Diane in a calmer voice than she felt.
‘‘I’ll kill her,’’ he said again.
He wasn’t large. That was good. Not much body mass.
‘‘You do that,’’ said Diane, ‘‘and you lose your shield. These people are friends of Mickey. You kill his wife; they kill you.’’ She hoped she sounded cold and menacing enough.
The woman’s body trembled as she coughed again, and he squeezed her tighter and told her again to shut up.
‘‘You’re making her cough. You’re holding her throat too tight. Ease up a little,’’ said Diane.
He backed with his hostage in the direction of the woods bordering the museum. The access road that ran through the woods wasn’t far away. Diane guessed that was where his getaway vehicle was parked.
‘‘I have an offer,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Exchange me for your hostage.’’
‘‘No,’’ whispered Chanell. ‘‘Not a good idea.’’
