Free The Crossover by Larry Kollar Page B

big mess.”
    “They have phones in the hotel rooms,” said Lodrán.
    “Hell, they have public phones in the restaurant!” Freddy threw his hands in the air. “Should we make the call, or what?”
    Lodrán nodded. “Let’s go.” They sprinted across the parking lot, behind the auditorium to the hotel beyond.

    “I think there’s a bomb in the auditorium basement,” Lodrán said into the phone. “James Isaacson… I was in the basement Friday night and saw one of our maintenance employees, Sam Gross, down there with three caterers. That was strange, because we don’t have any concessions in the basement. They went into the PBX Room, I checked it this morning. The lines in the offices aren’t working, so I’m calling from the hotel. Now the fire alarms are going off.” He covered the mouthpiece and whispered to Freddy, “That’s all they need, right?”
    Freddy nodded. “Yeah, that should do it. The bomb squad’ll be storming the place pretty quick.” He looked at his phone. “Just past eleven. Cutting it awful close.”
    “Look, I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to,” Lodrán told the phone. “I’m going to hang up and leave now.” He hung up. “Let’s get something to eat,” he said to Freddy, nodding at the restaurant. “It promises to be a long day.”
    “Whoa.” Freddy paused. “How about that salad place, just down the road? They have some kind of Sunday special.”
    “That might be good. Any other suggestions?” Lodrán cocked an eyebrow at Freddy and got a small nod in return. Some wind had blown Freddy’s way.
    “There’s the seafood buffet, but it’ll be pretty crowded if we don’t get there before twelve-thirty or so.”
    “Salad should be good.” They walked to a place out of earshot. “What was it?”
    “The guys from the bar,” said Freddy. “They’re in the restaurant.”
    Lodrán’s eyebrows shot up. “Did they see you?”
    “No.”

    “They wanted front-row seats for the show,” said Chuck, looking grim. He watched the fire trucks near the back entrance. “Good thing it’s not the show they’re expecting.”
    “I presume the authorities can find this Sam and the others, without any further help from us?” Chelinn looked at Freddy.
    “Maybe,” said Freddy. “Their families might hide ‘em. I don’t know if they would for a charge like terrorism, but they might have a place to go. Could be a long time before they get caught.” Two black vans rolled into the parking lot, sirens wailing. “That’s the bomb squad.”
    Lodrán shrugged. “If we have to intervene again—”
    A voice blared from horns mounted on top of the vans: “ This area is hazardous. All non-emergency personnel must proceed to the nearest barricade. This is a mandatory evacuation order. ” The voice began repeating itself; around them, people looked puzzled but began moving.
    “Chuck, Freddy, perhaps you should follow the crowd,” said Chelinn. “Lodrán and I will see if there is anything further we can do here.”
    “I’ve got to see if I can get in to grab another load,” said Chuck. He took the handcart and walked away.
    “I’m stayin’ with you,” Freddy told Chelinn. “You need me to ID those assholes.”
    Chelinn glared a Freddy for a moment. “Fate is, at best, a capricious bitch. She may have put you in our path to help us. Or the inverse. Or—not all events are arranged by powers high or low. In any case, you will share a great risk with little hope of reward.”
    “Whatever. Like I said, I’m tired of pissin’ my life away with stupid shit.”
    “That tree.” Lodrán pointed to a large oak just beyond the edge of the pavement. “We can see from there without drawing attention.”
    “Speakin’ of ID,” Freddy hissed, “there they are.” He laid a finger on his chest, pointing sideways. The four of them were walking across the parking lot, watching the commotion near the entrances.
    “Call to them,” said Chelinn. “I’ll be