CHAPTER FOUR
When the gunfire had initially broken out, the four officers who had remained in the foyer with the two principals had instantly begun to run in that direction to assist their comrade. They had no idea what had triggered the gunfight, nor had they any idea what to expect when they got there, but as they neared their destination, they were easily able to distinguish the individual shots fired by the small caliber pistol and Luca's high powered M-16, evidence that it was not a spontaneous disagreement between the gang members. For reasons unknown, Luca had apparently disregarded his orders and engaged the teens, or else he was returning fire after being detected. Hondo knew he would have some serious questions to answer before a board of inquiry investigating the shooting. He hoped Luca could provide satisfactory answers to those questions.
When the gunfire abruptly ceased, the corridors were filled with an ominous, ear-splitting silence.
The officers glanced quickly at one another as they continued to run, wondering what they would find when they reached the cafeteria. Hondo's repeated requests for reports on the situation went unanswered by Luca, raising concern among the team members for his safety. Every one of them was vividly aware of the bulletproof vest that Hondo was carrying.
As they reached the barricade, Harrelson, Kay, and Street covered it as McCabe circled it and thrust his sniper rifle inside it in the event that the gang member who had surrendered might have been replaced. He looked up and shook his head. "Empty."
"That means they're holed up inside the cafeteria," Harrelson said, his eyes shifting to the twin entrances to the school assembly hall. "Or possibly the auditorium."
All four men followed their leader's gaze to the open doors, thinking they would be the perfect spot from which to conduct an ambush, especially if they managed to catch the police officers in a deadly cross fire between the two doors.
Hondo gestured toward the doors with a nod of his head. "Check out that room. McCabe, you take the door on the right; Street, you take the one on the left."
The two men instantly complied with their commander's order. With weapons at the ready, they ran quietly to the doors, and when both were in position, they stepped inside, assuming a slightly crouched, defensive stance as they surveyed the auditorium with sharp eyes peering down the long barrels of their rifles, each man covering his own half of the room. Particular attention was paid to the rows of seats, which could provide cover for the perpetrators, and the heavy draperies that were drawn across the stage. They saw no sign of movement, and no indication that the room was occupied.
With an affirmative glance at one another, they withdrew from the auditorium, and hurried to catch up with Hondo and Deacon. Having heard no indication from the two subordinate officers that the auditorium presented a threat, they had proceeded down the long corridor toward the T-junction, which turned toward the cafeteria on the right. Directly ahead, the long corridor continued toward the gymnasiums.
The two senior officers had stopped at the junction, and were peering around the corner toward the cafeteria. Deeming it safe, Deke darted across to the other side. With one on each side of the junction, they leaned around the corner to gaze down the long hallway toward the exit at the far end. They knew the cafeteria would be on the left side of the corridor, with the single auditorium door on the right. The hallway was empty, but they could hear the buzz of excited conversation and fearful weeping inside the cafeteria.
Hondo glanced at Deacon. "What the hell happened in there?" he wondered aloud.
Deke could not supply an answer to the question, so he merely shook his head.
Street and McCabe rejoined their commander.
"The auditorium is empty, Lieutenant," Street reported.
"All right," Hondo said. "Let's check out the cafeteria."
Pressing close against the wall on the same side of the corridor as the cafeteria, they crept cautiously toward the open double doors of the lunchroom, maintaining constant watchfulness of the doors they were approaching.
When they reached the doors, they halted. On Harrelson's silent command, they all burst around the corner with rifles at the ready.
A teenaged girl, standing just inside the doorway, screamed with fright as the four heavily armed men with high-powered rifles filled the doorway with those fearsome looking weapons ready for action. Her scream set off a brief chain-reaction among several of the other girls in the room as everyone whirled to see what had alarmed their schoolmate. Then, sudden silence followed as the officers evaluated the scene before them.
The incident appeared to be under control. Two teenagers, dressed in gang jackets, were being pulled roughly to their feet by a couple of boys who had the heavily muscular appearance of football players. Apparently, even the gang members had dropped to the floor during the shooting. When they were on their feet again, they were shoved against the wall will no pretense of gentleness. Obviously, these were the perpetrators of the crime.
The officers shifted their attention to the other men, women, and students who were scattered in the large room. Some were crawling out from under the long rows of cafeteria tables, apparently believing they had been protected there. Dutifully, the teachers were checking the students for injuries.
"Is everyone all right?" Harrelson asked, lowering his weapon.
"Yes," responded one of the male teachers, who seemed to have his wits about him a little more fully than the others. "I think so, anyway."
Harrelson gestured toward the two teenaged prisoners whose hands were bound with masking tape. "Are these the Stingrays who started this fiasco?"
"That is Michael Collins on the left and Tim Hauser on the right, both former students of ours before they decided that spending their time with a bunch of losers was preferable to a decent occupation. They posted another gang member at the south door. I think I heard the door open after the shooting started, so he may have escaped."
"McCabe, check it out," Hondo ordered.
T. J. rushed out the cafeteria door. A moment later, they heard the south exit door open as the police officer went through it.
"There was also one posted near the north entrance to the auditorium," the teacher continued, "but I guess you took care of that one, or else you wouldn't be here."
"He's in custody," Harrelson assured him. Surprised that no one had been injured during the shootout, his eyes swept the room, looking for the police officer who remained unaccounted for.
The teacher seemed to realize that the SWAT officer was looking for his subordinate. "If you're looking for your young officer, the last time I saw him was in the hallway just before the shooting broke out. He had disarmed both of these boys in here, but apparently was unaware of the third one in the hall. They had quite a gun battle out there. I'm not sure, but he may have gone after the shooter. He had just stepped out of my line of vision at that point."
Hondo nodded, thinking that perhaps T. J. would come across him outside. He turned to his second in command. "Deke, once we get that final gang member located and we know that everything is secure, we need to see about getting these kids out of here."
"Right," Deke agreed.
A moment later, T. J. jogged into the cafeteria to report his findings. "Lieutenant, the boy who escaped was apprehended outside by the uniformed officers. He's in custody."
Hondo nodded, pleased. "That's the last one. All right, lets get these students out of here."
"Out the back door?" Deke asked.
"No, lets move them to the front of the school. The principal can see to notifying the parents, or whatever he wants to do with them. Also, get a couple of uniformed officers in here to take custody of these two punks."
Deke turned to the students, and raised his voice to be heard by all of them. "May I have your attention, please? I want everyone to evacuate this room. Proceed to the front of the building. Your principal is waiting there; he'll take charge of moving you from the building."
Without hesitation, the students moved toward the exit, eager to see an end to their ordeal. As they filed past, they all cast apprehensive and intensely interested glances at the combat-ready police officers. Several of the teachers took charge of them, turning them in the right direction and hurrying them along.
Then, as Deke got on the radio to request a couple of uniformed officers, Hondo approached the teacher with whom he had spoken before.
"Mister ---"
"Weiss," the teacher offered.
"Mr. Weiss, there will be an investigation into this incident, as there always is whenever a police officer is involved in a shooting. I need to know who fired the first shot. Not this final gunfight, but the initial shot. From our original position, it was impossible to determine that fact."
The teacher hesitated, realizing by the tone of the lieutenant's voice that the question was not asked out of idle curiosity. Apparently, it was a question that was critical to the investigation. Recalling Luca's curious comment about his supervisor not being as pleased as everyone else was, he understood that in saving the life of the student, the young officer had disobeyed an order not to shoot. "Well . . ."
"You were in a position to determine that fact, were you not?" Harrelson asked, realizing that the teacher was reluctant to answer.
"Yes, I was. The officer fired the first shot, but before you jump to conclusions, you must understand ---"
"Street, find Luca and tell him to get his butt in here," Harrelson interrupted, his face darkening with anger. "He's got some explaining to do. I expect a satisfactory answer as to why he disobeyed my order not to engage. You got that?"
Street's eyes flashed with resentment that Harrelson's anger at Luca was being directed at him, but he merely replied, "Yes, sir." He exchanged a brief glance with McCabe, then turned and walked out of the room.
Harrelson had seen the look that had passed between the two younger officers, and he also realized by Street's expression that it was an order he did not wish to carry out. This camaraderie between the three younger officers inflamed his anger even more, for it seemed to him that Street, McCabe, and Luca were willing to cover for one another to prevent disciplinary action. Glancing at McCabe, he saw his sharpshooter staring at him with a pensive frown, clearly critical of his supervisor's abrupt reaction.
When Street had gone, Harrelson turned to Deke and was surprised to see that same expression of disapproval on the dark face of his second in command. "You got something to say?" he asked.
"Yes, Hondo, I do. There may have been extenuating circumstances," Deke pointed out.
"If there were, then I'll hear them," Hondo said, but both Deke and T. J. could still see the fire of anger that flamed in Harrelson's eyes. "But if I'm not satisfied that he was justified in his actions, he will face disciplinary action and possible reassignment."
"Reassignment?" Deke repeated, startled. "I'm not sure that's necessary."
"Excuse me, officer," the teacher broke in, trying to explain, but Hondo ignored him.
"This is a team, Deke, and I cannot have a man on my team who is not a team player. He was given explicit orders not to engage until we were all up and in position. He blatantly disregarded those orders. His actions put everyone in this room in danger!"
T. J. looked stunned. "Lieutenant, you know Luca. He would not have disobeyed your order unless he felt the circumstances necessitated his doing so."
Weiss raised his voice, "Excuse me! Lieutenant, is it? Your assessment of the situation is entirely incorrect!"
Harrelson turned his piercing eyes upon the teacher. "Then why don't you tell me, what is the 'correct' assessment?"
Weiss gazed at the lieutenant for a long time, understanding that this was a man who expected to be in charge of everything and everyone around him, and who believed that he knew the answer to everything. The teacher indicated the two prisoners, who awaited the arrival of the uniformed officers who would escort them to the jail. "Michael decided it was time to execute one of the students. He picked Brett, the boy over there by the wall."
He gestured toward a dazed youth who stood apart from the others, reluctant to join the rest of the students in the evacuation of the room. Another teacher and several students were attempting to comfort him, yet he was still shaking violently, and the crotch of his jeans was wet, indicating that he had lost control of himself. Self-consciously, he attempted to cover the wetness with his trembling hands.
"Your officer waited until it was absolutely certain that they were going to kill Brett, then he shot the gun out of Michael's hand." He pointed an accusing finger at the lieutenant. "I'll tell you now, and I'll testify before your review board, or whatever it is that police officers have to go through to prove that a shooting is justified, that under the circumstances, your officer did the only thing he could do. In fact, I insist on testifying on his behalf! Don't you officers have a motto or something: 'To serve and protect'? That officer did his job, and I don't give a damn about your orders! The life of that boy is worth a hell of a lot more than the value of your orders, and there is no doubt in my mind that Brett would be dead right now if not for him! In my mind, that young officer is a hero."
Weiss would have continued to browbeat the lieutenant, but Hondo finally raised his hands as if in surrender. "All right, all right, Mr. Weiss. I believe you. I will accept the fact that Luca appears to have reacted appropriately. I'll make certain the investigative team understands that as well. I have no doubt that he will be exonerated."
Placated, Weiss tamped down his anger. "Well, that is good, but I still insist on speaking to them myself. And I intend to speak to the press, as well."
Hondo blinked with surprise. Apparently, the teacher did not trust him. "I'll have it arranged," Hondo promised.
"Is that his name? Luca?"
"Yes. Dominic Luca."
Weiss nodded. "That was one impressive shot, if you don't mind my saying so.
"Where is the pistol?"
Weiss pointed toward the pistol, which still lay untouched beneath one of the tables. "Over there. We thought it best to leave it where it was in case you needed fingerprints or something."
Deke retrieved the pistol, picking it up by inserting a pencil through the trigger guard, and he held it up for Hondo's inspection. The cylinder was disfigured by the bullet that had struck it and rendered it unfit for further use.
"That was one hell of a shot!" Deke said.
"I'll say!" T. J. agreed. "A small target with no scope! Maybe I should worry about my job!"
Hondo smiled. "Well, I wouldn't go that far, but I'd say all that training we have to go through paid off." His smile faded, and he heaved a sigh of regret. "Deke, remind me on occasion to get all the facts before I pass judgment."
"Hondo, what you need to do is learn to trust your men," Deke replied, the calm voice of reason.
Hondo looked surprised. "I do trust them!"
"No, you don't. Not completely. Not one of your men would have disobeyed your orders without sufficient cause, and you should have known that. You have the best damned SWAT team in the entire city. They were hand picked by you because they are the best at what they do. You know their worth."
Hondo nodded with a surprisingly sheepish expression. "You're right, Deke."
"While you're at it, you might want to consider offering him a compliment on his shooting. None of the boys expect it, but it's good to hear, sometimes."
The cafeteria was almost empty, now. Two uniformed officers appeared to take the gang members into custody.
Hondo nodded. "You're right, Deke," he repeated. "I've been drilling into their heads about the need for teamwork, and I've resisted the concept myself." He glanced at his watch. "I wonder why it's taking Street so long to find Luca?"
With his left leg folded beneath him and his right leg raised, bent at the knee, Luca sat quietly on the floor of the auditorium, his back propped against the wall behind him, his head resting against the hard surface. His hand had sought out the wound, and he applied pressure to it in an effort to staunch the flow of blood, but he could feel the sticky wetness that seeped between his fingers.
Behind him, through the wall and the open door, he had listened to the students as they had filed out of the cafeteria, and the voices of the teachers, urging them to proceed to the lobby without dawdling. Finally, the parade of footsteps faded and died, leaving silence in its wake.
Something was wrong with his vision. The room seemed to be fading into darkness. Allowing his head to fall forward until his forehead was almost touching his knee, he allowed reality to slip from his grasp, seeking a place where there was no pain.
"Dom, what are you doing in here? We've been looking for you."
The voice broke into Dom's mind, bringing him back to consciousness, and he raised his head, his pain glazed eyes settling on the man who knelt before him. It was Jim Street, who gazed at him with a worried expression on his face.
"Dom, what are you doing on the floor? Are you all right?"
"No," came the soft answer, barely above a whisper.
Street lowered his gaze to the hand that was tucked between Luca's abdomen and his raised knee. Blood was streaming from between his fingers. "Oh, God," Street breathed. Laying down the rifle, he snatched the microphone from his belt. "Lieutenant? You'd better get over to the auditorium right away."
Startled by the urgency he heard in Street's voice, Hondo glanced at Deke as he raised the microphone to ask, "Why? What's up?"
"Luca's down," came the response he had not wanted to hear.
T. J.'s face fell, and he turned and raced out the door, with Hondo and Deke following.
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