Authors: Edward Trimnell
Alan and Dave proceeded directly from Covey Avenue to the building where Jessica Knox and Travis Hall were holed up, trapped for all practical purposes.
There were two Cincinnati PD cars on the street below the abandoned structure, which Alan assessed to be an office building from the late 1800s, or sometime in the early twentieth century. This was the part of the city that had once been filled with bustling Gilded Age prosperity and German immigrants. Those days were gone.
The Cincinnati PD man in charge was a Sergeant Ken Burns, who, per Alan’s random recollection, shared his name with a PBS documentary filmmaker of moderate fame. Sergeant Burns was in his late thirties, squarely built, and of medium height. He wore a buzz cut and the skin around his collar looked reddish in the dim light.
“We don't have enough men to forcibly take that building,” Sgt. Burns summarized. “But we have multiple officers on the front and the rear doorways. There are only two ways those two are coming out of there—out one of the doors or one of the windows. And it won’t be one of the first-floor windows—looks like those were all bricked over back when this place was still in use. That means your fugitives either surrender, they come out shooting, or they jump. Any way, they lose; they’re not getting away.”
Over the past five minutes, Sgt. Burns had recounted how one of the Cincinnati patrolmen had essentially gotten lucky. He’d been driving at a slow rate a bit further up the street, when a Caucasian male and a Caucasian female had come running down the sidewalk. The patrolman had noticed immediately that they were both carrying guns. They matched the descriptions of Jessica Knox and Travis.
“Gotta be them,” Sgt. Burns said, as if this matter were in doubt.
Alan asked, “Do you know which room they’re in? Do you have any idea?”
“No. That’s the problem, like I think I explained. That building is four stories high, and it’s usually filled with derelicts and addicts. There is no electricity. We go in there blind, and we’re going to have a bloodbath. Plus, we don't have enough officers for that sort of operation. Now if the department had known in advance, well, then maybe we could have gotten a SWAT team together. And we’re working on that right now. But it takes time for the bureaucracy to move. This is the city, after all.”
Alan offered no further response or questions for the moment, giving himself the better part of a minute for analysis. There was nothing to be gained by arguing with Sgt. Burns. He and Dave had had no reason to expect that the operation with Alicia Griggs would turn into something like this; but now they were dependent on the manpower of the Cincinnati PD, after they had gone undercover in their jurisdiction without giving advance notice. That was the way these things worked.
Dave was standing off to one side, listening but not adding much to the conversation. He held himself responsible for the impasse they had now reached, even though it wasn't an impasse at all, from a certain perspective. Sergeant Burns was right about one thing: Knox and Hall were unlikely to escape. But there was still the looming question of how best to apprehend them.
“You said you’re putting together a SWAT team?” Alan confirmed.
“That’s right. We’re going up the approval chain right now. Then it's simply a matter of waking people up and getting the team onsite. About two hours.”
“And the building is probably full of people.”
“Yep,” Burns sighed. “It's messy, however you look at it. We’ve gotten a few of ‘em out, the ones who were clustered around the doorway. But we can’t go inside and do a mass evacuation because that would make our officers targets.”
Alan nodded in response. It was a messy situation. Even with a SWAT team, it would be risky. They had no idea how many people were inside, and Knox and Hall wouldn't balk at using human shields—especially now that they were cornered.
There was of course another significant factor at play here—though it wasn't one that could be easily exploited by a charging SWAT team: Based on what Dave had told him, there was now a gulf between Knox and Hall. Knox had basically threatened her partner into refraining from taking Dave’s life. Then she had whispered to Dave, almost conspiratorially.
That didn't change the fact that Jessica Knox was, in all likelihood, directly complicit in the deaths of at least three men. But she disagreed with her partner about strategies and tactics. Whatever had originally bound them together—probably some toxic mixture of sexual attraction and amoral greed—had frayed tonight. Under the right pressure, it might be broken completely.
“I have another idea,” Alan said suddenly. “Something to try while you’re getting that SWAT team in place. Do you think you could spare me an officer?”
Burns looked at him warily. “That might be possible,” he said. “But what do you have in mind?”
“I’m going inside that building,” Alan said.
Alan was about to elaborate, but he was interrupted. A shot rang out, and pandemonium ensued.
The shot that had been fired from one of the upper-floor windows of the building did no discernible damage. No officers were hit; nor did the position of any police vehicle intersect with the bullet’s path.
The street had been cleared of civilian traffic. The round most likely chipped pavement, or one of the brick facades on the opposite side of the thoroughfare.
Spotlights probed the front windows of the abandoned building’s third and fourth floors. The lights revealed nothing about the source of the single discharge. The shot had apparently not been intended as the opening to a protracted gunfight. It had been fired randomly, probably in frustration.
Everyone among the street-level police team had immediately taken cover. Of course, they had already positioned themselves with an awareness that two cornered criminals might attempt to take potshots from their hideout. Criminals had been known to do such things.
Still, there was a new urgency now. Knox and Hall had escalated the stakes. They had drawn no blood, but they had committed their first hostile act against law enforcement.
When Sergeant Burns fully understood what Alan had in mind, he made a brief pro forma protest.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Burns asked.
“I’m sure,” Alan said—though the truth was he didn't know. Anything could happen once they got inside that building. The alternative, though, was equally unpalatable.
“You know as well as I do that if SWAT has to handle this, it’s going to be messy. Like you said, we don't know how many people are in that building; and if the bulk of them are addicts, then we can’t count on them being too cooperative. That means collaterals—practically guaranteed. But I think I have some leverage with the female of the pair up there. And now they've fired a shot and given their location away.”
“Yeah,” Burns said. “But their location can change, you know.”
Alan nodded. He had already thought of this. They weren’t even completely sure of the fugitives’ location at the time the shot was fired. No muzzle flash had been seen, and the spotlights had detected nothing.
The report, though, had seemed to come from a corner window on the fourth floor. So that was the assumption they were going to start with. It was all they had.
Moreover, (assuming that their base assumption was correct) Knox and Hall probably wouldn't move far from that position, but the rooms on either side would be possibilities, in addition to the rooms across the hall.
Officer Jensen, the young Cincinnati PD man who had volunteered to accompany Alan, was suiting up in a helmet and bulletproof attire from head to foot—basically what the SWAT team members would be wearing.
Alan had agreed to wear a bulletproof vest only. If he showed up in full body armor, Knox would conclude that her only option was to go down fighting. Alan wanted her to reach a different conclusion—namely, that it was in her better interest to surrender and hope for a deal. To convince her of that, Alan would have to show her a human face.
Dave stood off to the side while Alan talked with Sergeant Burns. Then Burns clapped Alan and Officer Jensen each on the shoulder and stepped back to his patrol car. He reiterated that he would maintain a radio link with Jensen throughout the operation. When Burns finally withdrew, Dave approached Alan.
“I can’t let you go in there by yourself,” Dave repeated. They had had this conversation less than five minutes ago, and Alan had hoped that the matter had been resolved.
“This was supposed to be my operation tonight.”
Dave’s unspoken words were,
and I screwed it up
. He was still smarting from the earlier setback. Having done all of his police work from a desk up to this point in his career, Dave didn't understand that in the field, even the best cops sometimes found themselves at a disadvantage. It was exactly what one of the German generals had said—Moltke, Alan believed it had been:
“No campaign plan ever survives first contact with the enemy.”
That was true in war, and it was true in police work, as well.
“First of all,” Alan replied, “I’m not going in there alone. I’m going in with Officer Jensen here.” Alan gestured at the Cincinnati PD man, who stood ready and just out of earshot.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes,” Alan said. “I do. You want to go in there with me because you believe that you were responsible for what happened in that alleyway. But I’ll repeat this once more: Working out here in the field isn’t like working in the office, doing analyst work. We have to make snap decisions.”
“So you’re saying I made the wrong one?”
Alan shrugged. “I wasn't there, was I? What I know is that you were at close range with two armed suspects, who were clearly threatening you. I also know that you’re alive and unhurt right now, instead of on your way to the hospital or the morgue. And those two suspects are cornered in this building, all but captured. However, this ends, Knox and Hall aren’t walking out of that building except in handcuffs. They’ve got to know that—and Knox will especially know it. That’s why I want to go in and negotiate with her.”
“So why not let me go in with you?” Dave asked. “After all, I have a rapport with her. I told you what she said to me—what she whispered in my ear.”
“I’ve consider that,” Alan said. “And my judgment is that you’ve been through enough already tonight, given that this is your first operation in the field. Do you want to deny that you’re still rattled by what happened earlier?”
Without being prompted to do so, Dave looked downward at his empty hands. They were shaking.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“And when you’re rattled, you make mistakes. That’s true for me, true for you—true for anyone. I’m not saying you made a mistake earlier, mind you—I’m saying that if you went into that building with me now, the likelihood of you making a mistake would be high. Got it?”
Dave sighed. “Okay. Got it.”
“All right. You wait down here with the Cincinnati officers. I’m going into that building now with Officer Jensen. And hopefully we’ll be back down shortly with Knox and Hall in handcuffs, and all without firing a shot.”
Alan and Officer Jensen went in the back door of the abandoned building, so as to delay detection by Knox and Hall, who were hopefully still hunkered down in that front room on the fourth floor. Like the door in the front, this rear one had been long since removed from its hinges. The rear entrance was a gaping, empty black maw.
But not empty for long. As soon as Alan and Jensen entered, they found themselves in a downstairs hall area, where they immediately discovered that they had company. There were five or six people seated on the floor, leaning against the walls on both sides of the hallway. They were a mixture of both genders and several races. Their ages were a mix, too; but they all had that worn-out look of longtime addicts.
Alan briefly shined his flashlight on the group, just to make sure that Knox and Hall were not among them. He doubted that Knox and Hall would be down here—that would make no sense; but he had to be sure.
“Just sit tight,” he told the group in a low voice. “And we’ll be on our way. Nothing here to get excited about.”
There were a few half-hearted, profane responses. Alan now saw that they were sitting amid piles of makeshift bedding: piles of discarded rags and old clothing, plus garbage bags that had been salvaged, torn open, and flattened.
“Come on.” Alan motioned to Jensen. One of the building’s main staircases was directly adjacent to them. “These nice citizens just want to be left alone.”
They made their way up the staircase, traversing multiple landings. It was pitch black in the stairwell. The beams of the flashlights that both Alan and Jensen carried swept across plenty of trash and debris, but no more people. This would be an uncomfortable place for any of the junkies to roost.
They exited the stairwell on the fourth floor. With weapons in one hand and flashlights in the other, they made their way down to the corner room. They had made some effort to be silent; but two men with flashlights could not move down a darkened hallway without giving notice of their arrival.
Alan figured that Hall and Knox were making their decisions right now. If he had assessed the two fugitives correctly, Hall would suggest that they go down fighting, and Knox would counsel surrender.
If he and Jensen could tip the balance of that debate in Knox’s favor, then this might end quickly and bloodlessly. And Lilith would be in custody. Alan no longer entertained any real doubt that Hall and Knox were Lilith.
When they arrived at the room from which one of the pair—probably Hall—had fired onto the street, they found a closed door.