Breeds 2 (28 page)

“Will,” Nancy ordered before peering up the north corridor.

The young officer rushed to the nearest civilian—a gentleman of perhaps seventy-five years—and tended to his wounds.

Nancy pinched her radio’s receiver attached to her upper left shoulder. “Phil, I’ll need first responders in the north corridor. ASAP. All along the strip here. People are coming out of their holes like rabbits who’d just gotten out of the way of a tank.”

“Roger that.”

She released the receiver and looked back to the glowing set of stairs. That would take them to the food court level but still a good ten-minute walk away from the crime scene. Her other choice was to advance to the escalators that emptied right into the center of the food court, which didn’t bode so well with her.

“Will, you stay with these people,” Nancy ordered. “See who can walk and get them out of here. Make the others comfortable and watch over them. The rest of us are going up.”

“Roger that.”

Nancy studied the faces of her three fellow officers. Their expressions were stern and ready to use lethal force if needed. She’d known them for the better part of nine years and couldn’t ask for a better team.

“You all good?” she asked, knowing the answer.

Affirmative nods all round.

Nancy indicated the stairs and its starlight glow. “Let’s bag this bastard.”

They ascended.

A rush of activity amongst the police cruisers parked at the mouth of Regency Park caused Kirk to sit up and pay attention. In seconds, half of the cars started and pulled out into traffic, sirens blaring and lights flashing in a hypnotic swirl. The flurry of cars and bodies dispelled the gloomy funk Morris had left Kirk to deal with, replacing it with a growing sense of urgency. Kirk watched as several cars streaked away into the night, wondering where they were going and sensing that Bailey wasn’t going to wait for a full moon. Somehow, Bailey was going to start that very night.

He grabbed his cell phone and debated dialing the wardens at the apartment. The remaining officers appeared agitated to some degree, elevated to a heightened level of alertness. Kirk studied the city park, in the direction Carma had gone. Could it all have something to do with her? He doubted it.

The door opened almost ten minutes later, causing Kirk to flinch.

Carma hauled herself aboard the truck. “See where those cars went?”

“Of course I did.”

“Know a place called the Martin and MacDonald Mall?”

Kirk wasn’t so quick to answer. “Yeah.”

“Get us there. I was in the park bush sniffing around when I overheard some cops. They have a three-twenty developing at that mall. I have no idea what a three-twenty is but those cops thought it was pretty important.”

“It’s something,” Kirk agreed and started the engine. “About a half dozen squad cars scorched rubber pulling away from the park so fast.”

“Follow the flashing lights,” Carma ordered.

So he did. The police, however, did not slow for traffic lights as normal civilians should, and Kirk soon lost them within the city.

“You find anything in the park?” Kirk asked while they waited for a set of lights to turn green.

“Someone died in there,” Carma deadpanned, digging her cell phone out of a pocket. “Smelled blood the instant I went over the wall. Nothing else, though. Ground was damp but it had already been covered by the cops. Couldn’t get close to the exact place where blood was. No trails or scents. Nothing. Just the blood.”

“Should you alert the others?”

“About what? This? Let’s wait until we see what’s going on. Could be anything.”

Kirk
hoped
it was anything. He thought about telling her about Morris but the lights turned green, so he drove on, weaving his way through the cold cityscape. Huge elms flashed by, their bare limbs reaching desperately to the sky. Neither Kirk nor Carma spoke as they flashed through the streets. In time, the white dome of the Martin and MacDonald Mall illuminated the skyline with an extravagant collection of Christmas lighting and brand-name shops. Police cruisers sped down ramps and through parking lots. As Kirk and Carma drew closer, they saw a large mob standing behind parked squad cars, faces turned toward the mall. The police had cordoned off two large entrances on the south side with their vehicles.

Kirk pulled into a parking space where he had a somewhat clear view of the mall’s largest entrance. Red, white, and blue police lights swirled across the mall’s concrete walls as officers placed wooden barricades several meters back from the glass doors.

“Holy shit,” Carma whispered.

“Yeah.”

“They’re sealing the place up.”

“Something’s up.”

“You stay in here,” Carma ordered and cracked open the door. “I’ll check it out. Soon as I get an idea about what’s going on, I’ll be back.”

“Be careful.”

Carma glared at him. “What did I tell you about saying that?”

She slammed the door.

Kirk meant it all the same. He gripped the steering wheel and tapped out a nervous beat, straining to make out the shapes teeming behind the police barricade. Soon after, several ambulances pulled into the parking lot and stopped behind the cruisers. More activity as Kirk glimpsed first responders leaping out of the vans and tending to several injured people. His stomach clenched before he turned one way and then the other.

A pair of police officers opened up a set of doors to one entrance, allowing a line of armed officers and paramedics with gurneys to enter. The sight of all those men and women going into the mall only tightened Kirk’s frayed nerves. Bailey was in there. The Halifax warden knew it. Bailey was in there and he was on the loose. Kirk rubbed his chin and scanned the cars surrounding his truck while dazzling police lights splayed over the thickening crowds.

Minutes later, the paramedics and their police escort returned with a collection of injured civilians, running through the opened doors and stopping in the midst of the waiting ambulances.

Kirk fidgeted.

He hoped Carma would return soon.

Sergeant Sean Decker of the CHP swung his size-thirteen boots out of the van and onto the asphalt. He rose into the night’s winter breeze like a grim watchtower and turned his steely eyes and considerable bulk toward one of five entrances to the Martin and MacDonald Mall. Halifax police officers––his fellow officers––guarded the withdrawing paramedics bearing injured civilians. Decker’s eyes narrowed into slits of concentration as his men and women withdrew thirty meters to an assembled wall of police cruisers and wooden barricades. The interior of the mall shone with festive splendor, making one wonder if there really was a killer on the rampage within those bright halls.

All reports concluded there was.

About nine members of the mall’s own security had been decimated before the remainder fled. The supervisor––thank God Almighty––had the situational awareness and good sense to call in the police before vacating his post. Decker didn’t blame him in the least. Mall cops weren’t trained for such movie-style ultraviolence. Decker himself wasn’t sure of what was in store for him, but as a veteran of three tours in Afghanistan with the RCR, including participation in both Operation Medusa and Falcon Summit, he wasn’t about to underestimate the level of destruction a single crazy person could achieve, especially within a commercial setting. What brought him onto the scene were the reports of a blood-crazed individual who had attacked civilians and security professionals alike, and was probably responsible for the loss of communication with four of the CHP’s own. According to the report, shots had been fired, which didn’t bode well on Decker’s mind. He made it a point to remember the department’s four hundred and seven members by their first names, a feat he knew kept his brain matter sharp. He knew who the CHP had inside, knew their faces and personalities. And if he was called down to a conflict at eight at night, where those fellow officers may very well no longer be alive, well, he was going to make it his prime objective to not only apprehend the culprit inside, but also to personally drub his boot heel into the murderer’s face.

Whoever was responsible, Decker would make certain he or she would be good and goddamn sorry for ever stirring up shit with his crew.

A flood of halogen light bleached his armored uniform as Decker stood and studied the beast of a mall before him. He was the commander of the Emergency Response Team for Halifax-Dartmouth, a specialized unit that was called in for scenarios deemed too dangerous for the regular constables. The ERT was the equivalent of the American SWAT, and dealt primarily with hostage and terrorist situations.

Decker stood behind his cruiser, helmet cradled in one arm, eyeing the mall’s entrance like a medieval, axe-wielding executioner sizing up the bared neck of the condemned. He was a tall, imposing brute of a man, forty-five years of age, clean-shaven and alert, sheathed in black body armor. His tactical vest carried an intimidating array of spare magazines, canisters, plastic cuffs, and knives.

The warning beep of a truck in reverse broke his thoughts, chirped for several seconds, and stopped in a mechanical huff. Decker still didn’t move.

“Sergeant Decker.”

He turned and met the blue eyes of another officer. Decker nodded. “Sergeant Potter.”

“You’ve been briefed about what’s going on here?”

“I have. Anything to add?”

“One of my guys was assigned to get the remaining civilians out while four other officers went deeper into the mall. He later reported multiple gunshots, handgun and shotgun. Those officers have not replied to our calls since then.”

Sergeant Potter paused and studied the glass doors. “That’s it. That’s where we both got called in.”

“You have this place secured?”

Potter nodded. “Six entrances. One loading area that’s a dead-end alley with a bunch of service doors. I’ve deployed teams around each. Snipers are assigned to the main entrances. The windows around the food court are covered in decals of some sort. Some fancy decorations the mall put up. Long story short, they can’t see inside. Regardless, nothing’s going in or getting out without my say-so.”

Decker glanced around. “Anything on the roof here?”

“Nothing yet, but I’m going to get people on it.”

“Power?”

“We have a line on that. When you’re ready to insert, say the word and I’ll have the whole mall shut down. The doors on the far right can be pushed open. All the others are automated.”

Decker took in the information. “All civilians free and clear?”

“We’re not sure. Go with about ninety-two percent probability. Regarding the power, we throw the switch and it all goes down. The security supervisor here says the cameras have battery backups, so there’ll be a recording.”

Decker considered that. “Half my team have mounted cameras, anyway.”

“More the merrier.” Potter paused. “You wanna wait for the feds? As backup?”

The tactical leader shook his head, confident they didn’t need the support. “It’s only one guy.”

“Assumed he’s armed,” Potter pointed out. “He wasn’t in the beginning, but those officers were.”

The cold air dropped perhaps another three degrees in that instant.

“We’ll go in through the back,” Decker explained slowly. “Make our way through the mall. Get to the second level. Make sure there are no other civilians present, and do a store-to-store search on the way to the food court. Try and come up behind the guy. Tag him while the lights are off.”

If Sergeant Potter had any reservations about the plan, he didn’t make them known.

“When you’re ready, then.” Potter nodded and turned to a pair of officers at his back. Decker turned as well, facing a long white van striped with police force colors which had its ass pointed at the front doors.
The kennel
, he called the van, and inside was the best pack of hounds he had the pleasure of serving with this side of Kandahar.

Decker strode to the van’s rear and rapped on its double doors. They opened and Decker pulled himself inside, taking a moment to accept a helmet from a seated officer. He pulled it on, fixed a radio mic directly over his mouth, and studied the assembled unit, all clad in identical uniforms and outfitted with the same gear and hardware as himself—body armor, helmets, and balaclavas to conceal their faces when it was time to roll, Smith and Wesson’s strapped to thighs, MP5s held at port, and a couple of Remington shotguns. There were probably more than a few boot knives in the mix as well. After Decker closed the rear doors, he accepted his own Heckler and Koch submachine gun, sat down, and checked the weapon.

Eyes twinkled in the van’s dim light.

Ready to swing the wrecking ball
. Decker regarded his team. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve been invited to a shit kicker’s hoedown, thrown by a single, unknown, squirrel-crazy assailant who has decided to royally fuck up this fine November evening. By all accounts, he is operating alone and, as of the last hour, possibly armed with police firearms. Central reports five officers went inside, one of whom was tasked to escort injured civilians out of the building. He’s the only lawman to return from the mall. The other four have not returned or reported in. These people are in addition to an unknown number of missing civilians and security personnel. Shots have been fired. We’re going in on my word and we are green to use deadly force. If you see a tall man dressed in a bloody sweatshirt and Halloween makeup, fire at will. Suspect was last seen in the food court. All entrances are covered but we’ll be entering here, walk through the mall under the cover of darkness, and search shops as we approach the food court from the east to make sure our boy doesn’t try an ambush or scoot behind us. All clear?”

“Clear,” answered eleven operators.

“Questions?”

Not one.

“Get your sets ready.”

Upon the command, the men and women hauled on third-generation night goggles over their helmets. Half of them wore video cameras upon their helmets, recording the coming event for later review and, if necessary, to prove if use of deadly force was justified. Decker looked them over, all ready to bounce on command. His unit comprised himself and eleven highly trained constables, male and female. All were accredited officers with years of experience and were still active members within their respected law enforcement branches. During special nights like these, however, they got called in to perform duties considered above normal policing.