Jessica maintained the pressure on Remington's shoulder wound until her arms ached. "Want me to take over?" Tony asked, sitting nearby.
She shook her head. "No. I'm okay."
"How's he doing?" Philip asked under his breath, his dark gaze on the thin black box sitting in the center of the room.
"Not good, I'm afraid," Jessica answered, forcing herself not to cry. Tears wouldn't do any of them any good. "He's lost a lot of blood. If we don't get him out of here soon-"
"I feel that it's all my fault," Philip told her, placing a hand on her arm. "If I hadn't tried to rush Zachary that way-" he shook his head regretfully. "It was a foolish move. Those diamonds aren't worth anyone's life."
"Yeah," Tony agreed, ignoring Jessica's disapproving glare. "Too bad you didn't think of that *before* Steele was shot." He looked thoughtful. "Jess, who would be calling Steele's cell phone?"
"Any number of people, I suppose. Mildred, Edward. Aunt Katherine, perhaps."
"Or Laura," he suggested.
"Laura?"
"You think that Laura is out there?" Philip asked.
"It's possible."
"I said no talking!" Zachary yelled.
"He needs a doctor!" Jessica said, not for the first time.
"He'll get one as soon as we get what we want," Zachary told her.
"He can't wait," Jessica said. "He's lost a lot of blood."
"He should have thought of that before he tried to grab my gun," Zachary pointed out evenly.
"You really expect us to believe that you're going to just let us walk out of here?" Tony asked, coming to his knees.
"You want to be a hero?" Zachary asked, then lifted his left hand, as if he needed to remind his captive audience of what it contained. "Come on. Just remember that if my thumb moves from this button-" The thumb in question slid slowly to one side, and several of the women in the group began to whine fearfully. "Then that box over there goes 'Boom!'. Then Steele won't need a doctor, will he?"
Jessica shot Tony a warning look. "Back off, Tony. Now."
Tony relaxed, his back against the wall once more. But his eyes never left Zachary.
Philip placed his hands near Jessica's on Remington's shoulder. "Take a break. I'll take over for a few minutes."
Jessica nodded, sitting back. Her arms felt as if they were made of rubber. She brought a hand to her forehead, intending to wipe a stray strand of dark hair away. But the sight of Remington's blood on her hand caused her to falter, and she sank back against the wall, exhausted.
Tony noticed that she allowed Cameron to take over, yet had refused his offer. Things were defiantly not getting any better.
***
Laura watched the driveway carefully, waiting. "They're late," she complained, glancing at her watch.
"I still say that we could do it, Mom," Daniel insisted. "Three kids could create a big diversion."
Laura shook her head. "No. The last thing I want to do is endanger the three of you. You'll go with Mildred. No arguments." She met each pair of eyes in turn, lingering the longest on Megan's. "Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mommy," Patrick agreed seriously.
"Yeah," Daniel sighed, clearly not happy with the idea.
"Yes, ma'am," Megan said sullenly.
A dark sedan pulled into the parking lot and stopped around the corner of the building. "There they are. Okay. I'll see you later," she told the kids, and gave each one a hug before leaving the car. Laura strolled nonchalantly toward the sedan. "Hello, Mildred. Hi, Daddy," she said, her voice breaking slightly.
"You okay, hon?" Mildred asked as Edward reached out to grasp his daughter's hand in a silent move of support.
"I will be once Remington's out of there and in the hospital. The kids are waiting for you, Mildred. I told the policeman who's been watching the car that someone was coming to take the kids home. He won't question you."
Mildred nodded, her round face filled with concern. "Are the keys in the car?" she asked, opening the passenger side door to get out.
"No." She held them out as the older woman came around the car to join her. "Here. Go directly back to the house, Mildred. You might call Katherine, tell her what's going on."
"I will, hon," Mildred said, giving Laura a brief, motherly hug. "He'll be okay, Laura. He's been through rough times before and made it."
"Thanks, Mildred," Laura said in a quiet voice, then watched her walk away before turning to her father. "Did you bring the things I asked for?"
"You're sure about this?" Edward asked. "I still think you should let the police in on the plan."
"They'd only stop me, Daddy," Laura told him, taking the rope and grappling hook that he handed her. "What about the radios?"
"Here," he told her, handing her one of the small hand held two way radios. "There are no guarantees that they'll reach out here from inside one of those ducts, Laura."
"We'll have to wing it, Daddy," she told him. "Go see if you can make life miserable for a certain LAPD Captain, will you?"
Edward smiled grimly. "My pleasure." He kept her hand for a moment. "Be careful. Good luck."
Laura nodded and kept to the shadows to run toward the building as the sedan continued toward the area where the police cars and growing media presence was parked. Keeping close to the building, Laura made her way to the back and the loading areas. There, she clipped the radio onto her jeans and tossed the grappling hook over the edge of the roof, wincing at the metallic clank that it made. Glancing around the area to assure herself that no one had heard the sound, Laura began to scale the wall . . .
***
"Where can we find Captain Jenkins?" Edward asked one of the officers in the area.
The young woman looked at him and at Mildred. "Civilians are supposed to be behind the yellow barricade, sir."
"My son in law is in that building, Officer Clifton," Edward told the woman, glancing at her name tag.
Clifton pointed to where a tired looking man was talking into a microphone as media lights flared around him. "Over there."
"We're doing everything we can at the moment," Jenkins was telling the reporters.
"Is it true that Remington Steele is among the hostages, Captain?" one of them asked.
"I'm afraid we can't divulge that information at the moment."
"Why not just give them the helicopter?"
"The Los Angeles Police Department does not negotiate with kidnappers," Jenkins said. "Excuse me, but I really need to get back to trying to save those people in there." He turned to find himself face to face with Edward Holt.
"And just how do you intend to accomplish that, Captain?" Edward asked.
"No more questions," Jenkins said. "And you're not supposed to be on this side of the barricade-" Edward pulled out his identification. "Ah. Mrs. Steele's father, I assume. She's here- somewhere, I think."
"Yes," Edward agreed. "How *are* you going to get Steele and the others out of there, Captain?"
"Well, we haven't quite decided, Mr Holt. We're trying to get some information on one of the thieves- but it appears that he's using an alias."
"Have you considered doing as he asked?"
"Giving him that helicopter? No way."
"So you're willing to let twenty people die just to prove a point?"
"Look, Mr. Holt, if we give in on this one, then it will start a chain reaction. I don't like the idea of putting Steele or Cameron or anyone else in there at risk. But my hands are tied. If *I* were making the call, that helicopter would have been here two hours ago. I follow orders just like anyone else. My orders are no negotiations."
"Okay, I'm in," Laura's voice said, crackling over the two way radio in Edward's pocket.
As a surprised Jenkins watched, Edward lifted the radio to his mouth. "Be careful. And don't talk unless you have to. Those vents carry sounds."
"Yeah."
"What's going on here?" Jenkins asked, looking around. "Where's Mrs. Steele?"
***
Laura slid through the narrow vent cautiously, grateful that the Center kept their vents as clean as possible. She'd been in one or two that had made her sneeze. The air vents to the exhibition room were about two feet wide and one foot high, set low in the vent, placing them along the ceiling of the room below. While the space would have been accessible with some struggle, the drop to the floor below would be tricky without the right equipment.
But at least it afforded her a good view of most of the room if she laid flat in the vent. The hostages were sitting against the wall with the door, several of them against the door. No way to break in there without harming some of them, she decided, her eyes searching for some sign of Remington as she scanned the details of the room for future reference.
She saw Philip Cameron first, in his shirt sleeves, and she wondered momentarily where his jacket might be. She couldn't recall ever seeing the man in public without it. It had reminded her of Remington in those early years. Then she saw that Jessica was beside him, pressing the missing jacket against Remington's shoulder. She looked exhausted- and worried- Laura thought.
Another movement on the other side of Remington drew Laura's attention to another familiar face. Tony. Dear God, Tony was in there, too. She'd forgotten that he'd had mentioned that he would come over and keep an eye on things today while she was with the kids.
As she watched, he said something to Jessica, who shook her head and continued applying pressure to Remington's wounded shoulder. Tony subsided with a frustrated air. The sight of drying blood on Jessica's arms caused Laura to close her eyes in an effort to stop the panic she felt from overwhelming her.
When she opened her eyes again, she noticed the small black box in the center of the room. Curious, she risked moving closer to the grill to get a better look at it. It wasn't very big, but Laura noticed several hostages- counting, she discovered there were twenty two, including five or six children of various ages- looking in the direction of the box with fear.
Heard a quiet moan and her eyes flew to where Jessica was trying to keep Remington from sitting up. "Lie still, Remington," Laura heard her sister in law plead in a tearful voice.
Laura had to listen closely to hear Remington's response. "Laura. Have to-"
A man dressed in black spoke. "I said keep quiet," he told them.
"Please let them send a doctor in, at least," Jessica told the man, who Laura guessed was the one who had answered Remington's cell phone and identified himself as "Zachary". He held a gun in right hand, and in his left hand was what looked to Laura to be control for a car alarm system. His thumb was on the larger button.
"Letting a doctor in might get the cops to play ball, Zachary," another man said. He was dressed just like Zachary, and Laura noted two other men wearing the same costume, including the black ski mask.
"Shut up," Zachary told his partner. "You're not in charge here. I am."
"Well maybe that needs to change," one of the other men said, moving closer. "It's been over two hours, Zachary. You said they'd give in before now."
"They will," Zachary said with a certainty that Laura found surprising. "Now get back over there."
The others moved away, and Laura watched as Zachary stood apart from everyone else. He looked around at the hostages, forcing any of them who were staring at him to look away by simply returning that gaze. Finally he turned around away from the hostages, facing the vent, unknowingly giving Laura a clear view of what he was doing. He looked down at the box in his hand, and slowly lifted his thumb for a space of about ten seconds, moved it about, then returned it to the button. "I think it's time I made a telephone call." He took Remington's cell phone from his pocket and looked to where Jessica and the others were sitting. "I'm sure Mr. Steele won't mind if I borrow his phone again, will you, Steele?"
Remington lifted a weak hand. "My . . . guest," Laura heard him mutter, and smiled, shaking her head. He couldn't be too close to death's door, could he? His eyes lifted toward the ceiling, and for a moment, Laura went still, thinking that somehow he could see her through the grille. She placed a hand against it, saw him close his eyes, then open them, still fixed on her location.
"Captain Jenkins? . . . It's Zachary." All eyes in the room turned toward the leader of the would-be thieves. All eyes, that is, save a pair of blue ones. "I think you should know that I have a bomb in here . . . That's right, a bomb . . ." He lifted his left hand for effect, causing several of the hostages to softly cry out in fear. "And if that helicopter's not here in fifteen minutes, it will go off . . . Drastic? What do you call being able to save these people and not doing it? You've got fifteen minutes, Jenkins."
Laura began backing away from the room. She had to talk to Jenkins. If Zachary was able to remove his finger from the trigger button, then either the bomb had a timer- or there was no bomb at all.
***
Remington moved restlessly, wincing at the pain in his shoulder as the pressure was increased. "You're going to break my bloody shoulder," he muttered under his breath.
"Be still, then," Jessica said. "Any movement causing you to start bleeding again. And you've lost too much already." She felt his forehead. "It's a wonder you're not in shock."
"I may be. Either that or delirious." Had he imagined seeing a glimpse of Laura up in that vent? Or had she really been there, risking her life to try and save his and everyone else's? "Antony," he said, still keeping his voice low.
Jessica reached across to tap Tony's shoulder and get his attention, watching the men, especially Zachary. Tony looked around at her with a hopeful expression, then down when she nodded toward Remington. Remington motioned him closer. "Laura," Remington said. "In vent."
Tony's gaze flickered toward the vent in question, then back to Remington. "You sure?"
"Maybe. Be ready." Things were out of focus suddenly, swirling out of control. "Jessica?"
She turned toward him. "Shh," she admonished, glancing nervously at Zachary as he looked in their direction.
"So- cold," Remington complained, shivering.
"He's going into shock," Tony announced. One of the hostages handed them his coat to place over Remington.
"Thank you," Jessica said, taking it from Philip, then leaning against his shoulder as she resumed trying to keep pressure to the wound. "Hang on, big brother," she begged. "Please hang on."
***
One of Jenkins' men had been waiting for Laura when she reached the sidewalk. "The Captain wants to see you, ma'am," he told her, his dark eyes serious.
"Good. Because I need to talk to him," Laura said, turning to lead the way around the building to where Jenkins and her father were waiting. Jenkins was on the radio with someone when she got there.
"Laura. Thank God," Edward said when he saw her. "Zachary's threatening to blow everyone in there up if-"
"I think he's bluffing," Laura told them.
"Bluffing?" Edward asked.
Before Laura could explain, Jenkins tossed the radio microphone aside and confronted Laura. "Mrs. Steele, you had no right to go into that vent-"
"Captain Jenkins, I think I might have found a way to get those people out of there safely- or don't you want that?"
"Of course I do. But if this goes bad, Mrs. Steele, I'll have your license for interfering in a police hostage situation."
"If this goes bad, Captain, I won't need my license," Laura assured him. "Now, do you want to hear what I found out or not?"