Stalked - By Allison Brennan Page 0,108

corners of Peter’s lips curved up, just a bit. “That’s what Sean told me.”

Noah and Sean exchanged glances. Sean smiled and Noah sighed. “Rogan, you stay on com, monitor all transmissions, understood?”

“Yes, boss,” he said.

Noah gave him an odd glance. “I don’t think I’ll ever hear that again.” He said to the others, “Everyone in vests, no exceptions. DeLucca, do you have something for Peter?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s get suited up; time isn’t going any slower.”

*

The school in East Brooklyn where Peter taught was five stories of pre-war brick and a fenced concrete yard. Only faint security lighting around the doors and windows lit the building. Wholly different from the sprawling, green San Diego school Lucy had attended.

“We’re early,” Noah said. “Let’s see if we can keep the element of surprise. Sean, at exactly twenty-nine minutes after the initial call, contact him. Tell him you’re me, that you’re out front. He’ll ask about his sister; tell him we couldn’t get her out of jail and we need more time. That you came in good faith to negotiate, and we’re trying to accommodate him. How much time do we have?”

“Six minutes.”

“Suzanne, stay with Rogan. DeLucca, come with us.” Noah said to Peter, “Stay back.” Then he looked sternly at Lucy. “You keep him safe.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy said.

Peter said, “He must have bypassed the alarm system. But the gate is still locked.”

“Rogan would probably say it’s easy to crack,” Noah said. “We have to assume, if his sister was telling the truth, that he has above average computer skills. We know he was a computer engineering major. Do you have keys?”

Peter handed him his ring. “The blue-coded key is to the main door. The yellow key gets into any classroom on the second floor, plus common rooms.”

“What room is yours?” Lucy asked.

“Two-oh-one. It’s in the southwest corner.”

“That’s where he is,” Lucy said.

They quietly entered the building on the opposite side from 201. All security monitors were green—off, confirmation that Kip had disabled the alarms.

They stayed up against the walls as they walked down the hall toward Peter’s third-grade classroom. Two doors down, Noah motioned for them to stop. He unlocked room 205 and they slipped in. “We need eyes on Mead before we proceed,” Noah said. “I’m going through the ducts.” He pointed to the ceiling. The air ducts were easily accessible through worn ceiling tiles.

He stood on a desk and pushed open the tile. He looked inside. “Damn,” he said. “I won’t fit.” He looked at Lucy. “You.” He cupped his hands. “Stay put until we get the air-conditioning on to mask sound.”

“I’m on it,” DeLucca said. He called to his team who were in the basement control room.

A half minute later, the air-conditioning roared to life. The units were on the windows but controlled by a central switch so the school could turn them all on and off together. The ducts were for heating only, but the air-conditioning was loud enough to cloak Lucy’s movements.

“Visual only,” Noah told her. “Give me Mead’s exact location.”

Lucy moved through the filthy duct toward room 201. It was a tight fit, but she used her arms to balance and move along slowly. In her ear com, she heard Sean say, “One minute until I call.”

Lucy went slower as she neared room 201. She couldn’t hear anything over the air-conditioning units. She turned on her flashlight to check out where she was—she needed to find the main vent in order to get a visual.

The opening was ten feet ahead. She turned off her light and slithered toward it.

Mead’s phone rang at the same time she saw Kip Todd. He stood by the door. She didn’t see Charlie Mead.

Kip said, “You’re here?”

She rolled and craned her neck. She spotted Mead tied to a chair in the center of the room. His face was swollen and he had a cut on his arm that was bleeding.

She scooted away from the vent as Kip shouted, “That’s not good enough!”

She whispered in her com, “Mead is restrained on a chair in the center of the room. He’s injured.”

“Good. Come back.”

“I need to monitor this. Kip is angry.”

Kip paced back and forth along the front of the room. A chair braced the door to the hall. But there was a door to the adjoining classroom that wasn’t propped closed.

Lucy said, “The door in room two-oh-three isn’t blocked, but Mead will be in the direct line of fire.”

“How many weapons?”

“He’s holding a nine millimeter. A rifle is strapped over his shoulder. He has a