Free Sky Zone: A Novel (The Crittendon Files) by Creston Mapes Page B

a sea of people—leaning, swaying, pushing. The way they were pressing and pounding at the front doors made Derrick sick to his stomach. He supposed the people complaining angrily outside viewed the locked doors as some sort of liberal plot to suppress their freedom of speech or to ruin the independent candidate’s evening.
    Daniel was standing on a chair behind a display table, holding his Nikon high and firing flash after flash. Derrick signaled to him that he was heading toward Clarissa’s group. The crowd was so thick, he had to weave and force his way within earshot of her team.
    “I can barely hear you.” Clarissa pinched her mic right up against her lips. “No, we need them up here, now! And six forty-five is out of the question until we get control of things. Over.”
    She let the mic drop to her chest and addressed her team. “SWAT’s on the way up. We’ve got to get this crowd spread out. Have your people motion the crowd inside the bowl. Inside the bowl. That’s all we can do. Get people into the bowl and get them seated as fast as possible.”
    Derrick could only imagine how the mob outside would react when they saw the SWAT guys with their guns, helmets, and shields.
    “What about Charlie and Steve?” said Gordy Cavelli.
    “Still nothing,” Clarissa said. “Two SWAT are on their way up to the Sky Zone. You’ll hear as soon as I do. Now let’s get busy.”
    The supervisors began to disperse, but Clarissa called, “Wait!”
    She cupped a hand over her earpiece and held up a finger, listening intently.
    “Three more team members have left.” She shrugged, relaying the information coming in her earpiece. “SWAT wants us to take Sterling to suite 227 on the club level … Once that happens, they want Lester to go to suite 213, club level … Wait a minute.” She squinted and put her mic to her lips. “Why would we do that? They’re safer in the bunker. I repeat, they are safer in the bunker. Over.”
    Clarissa squeezed the back of her neck and dropped her head, awaiting a response. She shook her head and spoke into her mic. “This whole thing should’ve been called off—” She blinked several times, as if getting shot at with verbal gunfire. “Yes … yes, sir … understood. Over.”
    Her mouth sealed to a slit, and she looked soberly at her people, her chin jutting out. “Okay. SWAT wants Sterling and Lester up high. They intend to keep that level closed so they can isolate them. They don’t like all the possible entry points in the bunker. Also … the squad from Columbus PD is having a difficult time getting here.”
    Several of the supervisors shook their heads, concern brimming in their eyes.
    “Apparently traffic is at a standstill, and they’re caught in a bottleneck before the bridge at Overbrook Parkway. Word’s gotten out that Lester’s here. And who knows what else is being said on the news.” Clarissa cupped her mouth, turned, and glared at Derrick as if he’d caused all of her problems.
    He just shrugged and held up his hands.
    She looked around the packed lobby with weary eyes. “I don’t know if we’re going to be able to fit all these people in the bowl without opening the club level …” She threw her hands out as if shooing a cat. “That’s it. Go. Do your best.”
     
    Shakespeare never shied away from a fight, but the team he was playing for this night was unraveling before his eyes. He felt as if they were fifty-point underdogs, with the odds worsening with each passing second.
    As long as he could remember, people had relied on him to know a little about everything, to give good advice, to be prepared, to have the answers, to be brave, to know how to fight—and win.
    It wasn’t going to be any different tonight; he could feel it.
    The cold truth was, Charlie and Steve had probably been overtaken by terrorists up in the Sky Zone, maybe even killed on the spot. More than a thousand civilians had been let inside the building, basically to go wherever