Takeover by Lisa Black Read Free Book Online Page A

deepened. “You did indeed.” In one sweeping glance, he took in Theresa, the Greek gods on the wallabove the books, the windows, the communication center spread across the reading table, and the staff office section with its hum of voices, then settled on the monitor. “They’re certainly armed.”
    The quiet concern in his tone worried her. Knowing that the hostage takers had guns was one thing; seeing the long black automatic rifles held so tightly in their hands was entirely another.
    “Any change since you called?” he asked Jason.
    “No.”
    Jason performed quick introductions. Cavanaugh acknowledged each of them with a nod and a smile, though his attention always returned to the monitor; when done, he jerked his head toward the muffled tones and asked his assistant, “Is that the dog and pony show?”
    “Yep. They’re working out how the FBI is in charge but everyone else’s valuable assistance will be greatly treasured.”
    “Good. Then we’ll be up and running before they break for coffee. The stuff looks good. Let’s powwow before we make contact. Please sit, everyone. And I got here as soon as I could,” he added to Theresa. “I had to shower and change.”
    She said nothing, well aware that outbursts might get her evicted. At the moment Chris Cavanaugh accepted her presence as a member of law-enforcement personnel. He might not want her around as a distraught family member.
    Apparently he took her silence for rebuke and explained, “Negotiations can go on for hours, sometimes days. It’s very important that everyone, including me, be comfortable. We eat, we stay hydrated, we take breaks. You’ll see how it goes.”
    This disturbed her even more. What happened to home in time for dinner?
    “Sit down,” Frank told her, collecting a straight-backed chair for her. “You look hot.”
    She tried, unsuccessfully, not to glare at him and sat. So did Frank, Jason, and, after a brief hesitation, Ms. Elliott.
    Cavanaugh, of course, sat at the head. “How’s the perimeter?”
    Jason answered him. “SRT has traffic diverted. It doesn’t help that Superior is about the busiest street in Cleveland these days, since so many stores closed on Euclid. We’ve got a lot of whining middle-management types at each roadblock. We’ve corralled the press in front of the library, where the heat might convince most of them to leave. Phone service going into the Fed lobby has been shut off, except for the reception desk, because we’ll use that.”
    They sounded so matter-of-fact. As difficult as it was for Theresa to believe, this was a rather routine event for everyone except her. They knew what to do, because they followed the same process for each event.
    That should have comforted her, but it didn’t. This wasn’t the same as every other hostage incident. This was Paul.
    “Patrick,” Cavanaugh said to the detective. “You worked that domestic at Riverview last month, right? Your partner’s in there?”
    Frank nodded and summarized the early-morning murder of Mark Ludlow, adding that Paul had been present to interview the man’s coworkers when the hostage situation developed.
    Cavanaugh said nothing to that, offered no consolation or words of encouragement, but Theresa did not expect him to. Cop machismo would not allow it. When you work with sharks, you don’t bleed in the water.
    “Snipers are in place?”
    Jason said, “We’ve got five, one on the street and four on different floors here. But there’s a problem.”
    Cavanaugh took in the room once more, the outside light bouncing weirdly off his brown eyes. “The windows don’t open.”
    “Nope.”
    “Ms. Elliott?”
    Theresa had almost forgotten that the woman was there. But then librarians were good at walking softly, and Ms. Elliott seemed versed in camouflage; her tailored suit gave only the slightest hint of what was, to judge from her shapely calves, an outstanding figure. No sense distracting male readers from their tomes. But even the