Read The Shaughnessey Accord Online
Authors: Alison Kent
The Shaughnessey Accord (6 page)
"Jesus H. Christ." Christian picked up the phone on Tripp's desk five minutes later. "Hank needs to see this."
This
being a blast of black spray paint out of nowhere followed by pulses of static
that were
an obvious SOS.
being a blast of black spray paint out of nowhere followed by pulses of static
that were
an obvious SOS.
Christian dialed. Kelly John ground his jaw until it audibly popped. Julian switched to mentally cursing in Mandarin.
It was when the phone on the tracking computer buzzed across the room to signal a trace, that all three men turned.
And all three men started to sweat.
Hank Smithson stood in the wide triangle of space behind his desk and in front of his L-shaped credenza. His corner office on the twenty-third floor of the Manhattan financial district high-rise offered a view to beat all views.
He just wasn't in much of a mood to be viewing.
Dad-blamed office work.
He wanted to be back in Saratoga on the farm, watching
MaddyB
take a turn around the track, listening to the wind blowing down, and breathing in the smell of the Adirondacks.
Dad-blamed office work.
He wanted to be back in Saratoga on the farm, watching
MaddyB
take a turn around the track, listening to the wind blowing down, and breathing in the smell of the Adirondacks.
Else he wanted to be upstairs, he mused wistfully, glancing toward the ceiling and wondering if he could get away with at least taking over a bit of the surveillance Tripp
Shaughnessey
was doing these days without his boys
huffin
' and puffin' about him needing to take it easy.
Shaughnessey
was doing these days without his boys
huffin
' and puffin' about him needing to take it easy.
"Mr. Smithson?"
Easy was for wimps. Hank walked over to punch the intercom on his desk. "Yes, Emma?"
"I'm heading out for lunch. Can I bring you anything?"
Emma Webster.
His secretary.
Nope. Administrative assistant, she insisted on being called.
A good woman.
One of a very few he'd known in his life. "I'm fine.
Ate too big of a breakfast this morning."
His secretary.
Nope. Administrative assistant, she insisted on being called.
A good woman.
One of a very few he'd known in his life. "I'm fine.
Ate too big of a breakfast this morning."
"If you're sure?"
"Yes, ma'am.
I'm sure." He pictured the twitch of her perky nose. She hated to be called ma'am. "But, Emma? When you get back, will you find Jackson Briggs for me?"
I'm sure." He pictured the twitch of her perky nose. She hated to be called ma'am. "But, Emma? When you get back, will you find Jackson Briggs for me?"
"I'm sorry. Did I forget an appointment?"
He heard the fluster in her voice as she tried to recall any previous request he'd made for his chopper pilot's services.
"Not at all.
I was just thinking I might like to get back to the farm a couple days early is all."
"Not at all.
I was just thinking I might like to get back to the farm a couple days early is all."
"Let me get him for you now."
Hank shook his head, grinning to himself, thinking how much his Madelyn would've enjoyed Emma's dedication, the way she thought of everyone around her before ever thinking of herself. "You go on to lunch. Briggs will be around when you get back."
"Yes, sir.
I'll be back in thirty minutes."
I'll be back in thirty minutes."
And she would be, too. The girl was always true to her word. He and Madelyn had never been blessed with children, but he would've enjoyed having a daughter like Emma.
Much as he could've seen himself as father to the five boys who made up the core of his Smithson Group, spending their days going where law-abiding, rule-stickling, by-the-bookers wouldn't and getting done what needed to get done.
Doing it all these days without him, of course, which grated on his nerves as much as the shrapnel he'd taken during Operation Just Cause in Panama continued to grate on his dad-blamed hip.
He needed to get out of here. He really did. He thought long and hard about ruining Emma's afternoon and raising Briggs himself while standing there, fiddling in his desktop humidor for one of his favorite
Montecristo
Corona
Grandes
, needing something to do.
Montecristo
Corona
Grandes
, needing something to do.
And if that wasn't just the crux of it all, his needing something to do.
The thought was still on his mind, the wrapper still on his cigar, when the private line in the lower left desk drawer rang.
Tripp pocketed the cell phone that looked like a cheap throwaway without saying a word. He'd made a call but he hadn't spoken beyond saying his name.
Glory wasn't sure if she should start fuming now or wait for his lame excuses explaining away what looked like a lot of unlawful activity an engineering project consultant had no business engaging in.
Especially disconcerting was Tripp's way too familiar familiarity with the handgun he'd taken off the other man.
She watched now as he removed what she thought was called a clip, checked it for bullets before putting it back together and tucking it into his waistband beneath the right side of his shirt.
"Why not in the small of your back?"
She gestured uselessly toward him.
Uselessly because he wasn't even looking at her.
She gestured uselessly toward him.
Uselessly because he wasn't even looking at her.
"Easier access on the side.
Movies don't always get it right, you know."
Movies don't always get it right, you know."
No. She didn't know. And how the hell did he? "Just who the hell
are
you, Tripp? Or should I say,
what
are you?"
are
you, Tripp? Or should I say,
what
are you?"
He did glance up then. "That's a conversation best had another time. Right now I need tape or twine or both.
Whatever you've got back here to immobilize this one."
Whatever you've got back here to immobilize this one."
She had tape and
twine
both, found a roll and a spool in the same cabinet as her security system and handed them off. Tripp bound the man's hands and feet, pulled off his ski mask and taped his mouth.
twine
both, found a roll and a spool in the same cabinet as her security system and handed them off. Tripp bound the man's hands and feet, pulled off his ski mask and taped his mouth.
"Anyone you know?" Tripp asked.
The young Asian didn't stand out at all in her mind, and she shook her head. "Do you still want me to send the SOS?" Tripp dragged the unconscious man to the center of the room. "No. If they were going to pick up the signal, they would've done so by now."
"Who are
they?"
"Friends of mine."
He returned to the door.
He returned to the door.
She glanced down at the other man, a kid, really, lying between them. "Don't you want him out of the way?"
"I want him where he can't kick over any of your shelves if he wakes up while I'm otherwise occupied."
"Occupied doing what, exactly?" She hated feeling left out when she was up to her eyeballs involved. "It would be nice if you'd let me in on what's going on here seeing as how this is my shop and all."
"Glory, sweetheart.
I swear I'll tell you everything.
Just not right now."
I swear I'll tell you everything.
Just not right now."
"So, I stay put." Ugh, but that grated. Not that she would have a clue how to get herself out if he wasn't here.
"Staying put would be great, thanks."
She felt useless,
worthless,
scared in so many ways she was numb with it. But she still had to fight the urge to stick out her tongue at his back. "Okay, but do you have a plan? What do I need to do while you're doing whatever it is you're doing?"
worthless,
scared in so many ways she was numb with it. But she still had to fight the urge to stick out her tongue at his back. "Okay, but do you have a plan? What do I need to do while you're doing whatever it is you're doing?"
She heard Tripp sigh, but it wasn't a sound of exasperation. More like a sound of patient resignation. He glanced at her, admiration warming his eyes. Seeming to register all of what she was feeling, he moved from the door to cup her face in his hands.
"I'm sorry. I wish like hell this wasn't happening, that you
weren't having
to go through this. I'm operating here on autopilot, and I'm not used to making explanations. I need you to trust me."
weren't having
to go through this. I'm operating here on autopilot, and I'm not used to making explanations. I need you to trust me."
Autopilot?
Explanations?
She focused on the one crazy truth that she knew. "I do trust you. What do you want me to do?"
Explanations?
She focused on the one crazy truth that she knew. "I do trust you. What do you want me to do?"
"Oh, Glory." He tickled her with a teasing laugh.
"If you only knew."
"Try me."
His gaze heated possessively. "I intend to, in every way possible.
As often as possible."
He let that sink in a simmering moment before adding, "After you're safe."
As often as possible."
He let that sink in a simmering moment before adding, "After you're safe."
Too late,
Glory thought.
I'm already a goner.
Glory thought.
I'm already a goner.
After a long moment, one tense with all the things unspoken between them, he lowered his hands and took a step back. "It's not a big deal, really.
Just my military training rearing its ugly head."
Just my military training rearing its ugly head."
"You were in the military?
Before Smithson Engineering?"
There were so many things about him she didn't know, wanted to learn,
wondered
if she'd ever have the chance.
Before Smithson Engineering?"
There were so many things about him she didn't know, wanted to learn,
wondered
if she'd ever have the chance.
He nodded. "Same route a lot of guys take when they're clueless as to their future."
He said it blithely enough that she didn't believe anything about Tripp
Shaughnessey's
years in the military were the same ole, same ole at all. "You were Special Forces, right?"
Shaughnessey's
years in the military were the same ole, same ole at all. "You were Special Forces, right?"
He twisted his mouth, a cockeyed smile that answered her plain as day. "What makes you think that?"
It wasn't about anything he'd done. Simply about
who
he was.
"Because I can't see you settling for less than being the center of attention."
who
he was.
"Because I can't see you settling for less than being the center of attention."
"Ah, but that's the thing about Special Ops." He leaned forward, kissed the tip of her nose. "We're not supposed to draw any attention."
"I knew it. I was right."
He conceded nothing.
Only cupped her cheek, rubbed a thumb along her cheekbone.
"Does that mean you're going to trust me now?"
Only cupped her cheek, rubbed a thumb along her cheekbone.
"Does that mean you're going to trust me now?"
"Stay put, you mean."
"It's nothing but semantics, sweetheart.
Nothing but that."
Danh
paced the length of the service counter, staring at the meats, cheeses, sauces and vegetables though what he saw instead was the disappointment on Mr. Cam's face.
paced the length of the service counter, staring at the meats, cheeses, sauces and vegetables though what he saw instead was the disappointment on Mr. Cam's face.
This was a simple operation. He had prepared for all contingencies. Having an off-duty police officer in the shop at the time of his plan's execution should have made no difference at all.
His men were highly trained. The fact that the two assigned to secure the customers hadn't seen the call made to 9-1-1 troubled him. He had failed in their training, and now all six of them were in danger.
The sandwich shop's telephone began ringing. The police making contact,
determining
his demands, seeing to the state of the hostages. Was anyone hurt? Would he release any women he held? Could they talk to one of the hostages?
determining
his demands, seeing to the state of the hostages. Was anyone hurt? Would he release any women he held? Could they talk to one of the hostages?
Soon the proper authorities would be called and the necessary technical experts gathered to cut off the shop's electricity. Whether this happened before or after negotiators were brought in would be based on
Danh's
intent to cooperate.
Danh's
intent to cooperate.
Danh
, of course, had no such intent at all.
, of course, had no such intent at all.
He would not betray Mr. Cam. He and all his men knew that death was a possibility at any time. Today could as easily be the day as tomorrow.
The ringing of the phone finally ceased. The bullhorn started up again, as did sniffling from the two women customers who had been dining together. He needed the hostages out of the way and caught the gaze of one of his men while gesturing
encompassingly
. "Take the hostages into the back hallway."
encompassingly
. "Take the hostages into the back hallway."
The sniffling increased and was accompanied by whimpers.
Danh
paid no attention until one of his men ran back into the shop and called,
"O
dau
,
Qua
^
n
?"
Danh
paid no attention until one of his men ran back into the shop and called,
"O
dau
,
Qua
^
n
?"
Danh's
head came up sharply, an animal sensing a predator.
Qua
^
n
had been posted as lookout. He would never have left his post willingly. Meaning . . .
head came up sharply, an animal sensing a predator.
Qua
^
n
had been posted as lookout. He would never have left his post willingly. Meaning . . .
Danh
headed into the back hallway. He tried the alley door. It remained locked from the inside. Both restrooms remained empty. Leaving no other option but the storeroom locked from the inside.
headed into the back hallway. He tried the alley door. It remained locked from the inside. Both restrooms remained empty. Leaving no other option but the storeroom locked from the inside.
He shook his head slowly, allowing peace to settle over him. And then he reached for his gun and fired.
Six
"
Fuckin
' shit on a stick."
Fuckin
' shit on a stick."
Tripp grabbed Glory by the shoulders, twirled her bodily across the room and into a tight corner where two of the shelving units met at a right angle.
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