Born to Run

large intake vent here, which provides access to the catwalk over the newsroom.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the perp has already sealed off the A-C vents,” said Reed.

“You’ll need to be careful,” said Figueroa. “He did say in his first communication that he had a surprise for anyone who tried to come in through the A-C ducts.”

“If it’s impassable, radio us,” said Madera. “Sergeant Figueroa will have to waive off the sniper shot and breach with his tactical team.”

“Got it,” said Reed.

Figueroa said, “What’s the likelihood of success on a shot from up there?”

Reed processed it aloud, his mind a human calculator of angles, percentages, and timing. “Subject on an open news set. Distance about a hundred feet. Possible obstructions-lighting fixtures, hanging cameras, other equipment. Elevated shooting platform should have only minimal adverse impact on bullet trajectory. No wind or other elements to worry about. If that vent isn’t blocked, I’d say we’re looking above the ninety-ninth percentile.”

“For a kill shot?” said Madera.

“T-zone,” said Reed.

A shot to the T-zone-the imaginary area that covered a person’s eyes and nose-was exactly what Madera wanted. It shut a man down like the flip of a light switch, no reaction.

Madera said, “SWAT will breach at the crack of sniper fire. If for some unknown reason the head shot doesn’t take him out, the team does.”

“Roger,” said Figueroa.

Madera turned to address the tactical team as a group.

“Gentlemen, I want to thank each of you for your willingness to serve in this crucial matter of national security. You heard the gunman’s latest demand to speak to the president of the United States. While I cannot go into details, I can assure you that this latest demand is not just another delusional request from a crazy man. This subject has already shot and killed a security guard. He has nothing to lose by killing again, and he has no intention of releasing these hostages alive. Most important, he has put himself on television for the sole purpose of compromising this country’s vital national security interests. We’ve done everything we can to avoid loss of life, even literally pulling the plug on his television broadcast. The gunman’s response was to guarantee the execution of a hostage if he did not get back on the air. Our only option was to resume broadcasting, but that concession cannot stand. Again, on behalf of the president, I thank you. I don’t have to tell you what needs to be done. Each of you is a trained professional. You know the assignment.”

“We do,” said Figueroa.

“Good,” said Madera. “Then let’s get it done.”

Madera checked the television for a quick update. It was a split screen, and an Action News reporter was interviewing a big, muscular black guy dressed in civilian clothes. Madera wasn’t really focused on the interview, but even with divided attention he was able to pick up the important part.

“…but I have someone with me who definitely knows the story. Her name is Sofia, and she used to be married to that dude with the gun inside the studio.”

Madera nearly choked, and the scream he heard from Demetri over the television-“Noooooo”- was his sentiment exactly. His cell rang almost immediately, and he checked the number. It was not a call he could ignore.

“Team, hold your position,” said Madera. He stepped out of the conference room and closed the door, making sure he was alone in the hallway. Joseph Dinitalia was on the line.

“You heard?”

“I’m on it,” said Madera.

“We need them both out.”

“I said I’m on it.”

“You need help?”

“No. The Greek is all lined up.”

“What about Sofia? Do I have to send someone?”

“You mean like the idiots last night with the machine gun who shot up everything but the Greek? Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Then who’s got the old lady?”

Madera drew a breath. “You know what they say: If you want something done right…”

“You got this one?”

“Send a couple men to help me look for her. But when we find her, then yeah,” he said, “I got it.”

Chapter 55

“Where the hell did she go?” said Theo.

A crowd of onlookers, some of them press, had gathered around the camera and lighting crew. The Action News reporter appeared on the verge of losing her patience.

“Mr. Knight, we are still on the air.”

Theo looked out beyond the crowd, up and down the dimly lit parkway. A couple of stray dogs ran loose, and a homeless guy was pushing a shopping cart toward the overpass. Theo was in a neighborhood of two-bedroom ranch-style houses, each with five or six beat-up cars parked in the front yard-a family of four, as far as the U.S. Census Bureau was concerned; more like twelve or fifteen, if everyone had been accounted for. At four o’clock on a Sunday morning, many of them were either coming from or heading to a second or third job, which explained the crowd’s steadily growing numbers.

Sofia was nowhere to be seen.

“She was standing right here a minute ago,” Theo said into the microphone.

“I’m sure she was,” said the reporter.

A squad car passed on the street.

“The cops must have spooked her,” said Theo.

“This is live television, so perhaps you could tell us what she would say, if she were still here.”

Theo ignored her. He was getting concerned.

“Mr. Knight, can you please-”

“Sofia!” he shouted, as he sprinted away. A woman was standing at the street corner a block away. She turned, saw him, and ran.

Definitely her.

Theo gave chase for about fifty yards, then thought better of it. He’d already seen one MDPD car cruise the area, and a former death row inmate chasing an elderly white woman down the street definitely wasn’t cool. He walked briskly and kept an eye on her, confident that she would soon tire.

His cell rang. It was Andie.

“Finally, you return my call,” he said.

“I’ve been a little busy. How was I to know you have the gunman’s ex-wife with you?”

“You mean ‘had,’” said Theo.

“Don’t tell me she’s gone.”

He rose up on his toes and looked ahead. He spotted Sofia cutting across the parking lot in front of a convenience store. Her gait was short, as if the run had already given her a side stitch.

“Not gone,” he said into his phone. “I got a bead on her right now.”

“Where? I’ll send a squad car to pick her up.”

“Don’t. She doesn’t want to talk to the cops. I think that’s why she snuck away from me in the first place.”

“I need to get her under police protection. That’s what Demetri wants.”

“I’ll call you when I catch up with her, all right? We’ll go from there.”