“I know,” Hale admitted.
“What are they after?” Kat asked.
“Hard to say,” Hale said; again, he eyed the room.
“Who is that?” Macey asked.
“The reason I wasn’t flirting with you,” Hale told her.
“Ladies,” Reagan was saying, “if you would be so kind as to remove your jewelry. Gentlemen, that goes for you too. Watches. Cuff links. Let’s have them.”
“It…it’s my wedding ring,” one woman protested.
“Sweetheart…” Clinton jammed the end of his gun into the woman’s husband’s chest. “He can buy you another one.”
Hale watched the men systematically make their way down the line of people sitting in a circle, dropping millions of dollars in jewels into their outstretched bags, but the masked men didn’t hurry. And when the bag finally made its way to the Calloway Canary the whole room seemed to sigh. What a pity.
“What are they doing now?” Kat asked.
“Jewelry and wallets,” Hale said. But something didn’t quite make sense. “They’re too slow.”
Hale looked at Macey, who added, “Seven minutes since shots fired.”
“Kat, what’s the emergency response time in Midtown Manhattan?”
“Not long enough if they want a clean exit,” she told him.
Macey hadn’t heard Kat’s words, but she looked at Hale like she’d read his mind.
“They aren’t trying to beat the cops out of here,” she said.
“I know.”
She shifted on the floor and leaned closer. Her mouth was only inches from his ear. He placed an arm around her, and to anyone watching, it probably looked like a boy comforting a girl, offering a shoulder and maybe laying groundwork to make a move, but Hale knew better.
“Okay, Hale’s mystery lady,” Macey whispered, “listen up. If you want to help, you need to call 212-555-9898. You’ll get a recording. Tell it the Peacock is caged.”
Hale laughed. “Tell it what?”
“Someone will be here within an hour,” Macey went on. “They probably already know, but…Do you need the number again?”
“Look, Macey,” Hale said. “Thanks for the offer, but we’ve got it. Now just keep your head down and try—”
“You don’t get it, do you? Those are AK-47s. They can fire six hundred bullets per minute and can reload in less than three seconds. And in case you didn’t notice, there are five of them.” She drew a deep breath. “Now does your friend need the number again?”
“She’s got it,” Hale said with a nod. “Now, why don’t you tell me exactly why she should waste her time doing your errands,” Hale said, but Macey said nothing. “You’re not a normal girl, are you?”
He looked and sounded like someone who was already certain of the answer.
“That’s cool.” Hale nodded, unfazed. “But just so you know, that”—he pointed to the piece of metal peeking out from behind the stage—“is a Hurst 5,000 PSI hydraulic spreader-cutter, more commonly known as the Jaws of Life.”
“So?”
“So I’m not a normal boy.”
Chapter 4
AS WORD SPREAD—AND WORD ALWAYS DID—the streets outside the hotel eventually became clogged with police cars and fire trucks. News vans lined the barricades while uniformed men tried to keep the curious at bay. But try was all they could manage.