The Ghost of a Chance (Krewe of Hunters #38.7)

Chapter 2

Naturally, Jackson had reported the incident to the head of the bureau, letting him manage cooperation with other law enforcement. Still, he knew the man would see to it that others were kept at a distance, ready to step in when necessary.

He had determined that only a small number of his unit would join him at the bank.

Because once the group disappeared down the hall to the vaults, he couldn’t see them anymore.

He couldn’t see Angela.

He’d never met a better person at assessing a situation and determining how to best play any essential tactics than his wife.

He had faith.

But faith didn’t completely alleviate fear.

He knew about the back door. He also knew that when it was locked during business hours or at night, an alarm would go off if it was breached in any way.

Thus, as the group disappeared down the hallway, he stood where he had been, trying to weigh the possibilities.

As he did, a man approached the front door, tried it, read the sign, and then swore in frustration before moving on.

“They even take closing breaks during the day at banks now. Computer, my ass.”

The irritated man moved on down the street.

If there was just some form of communication…

But he knew that whoever was in there had a gun. He also knew that Angela would try to keep everyone as calm as possible—making saving human lives paramount over money. It would help if he knew how many gunmen there were. Or would it?

He’d been with the bureau for a long time—the longest as a special supervisory agent for the Krewe. Life was the only resource that couldn’t be replaced. But in his years in law enforcement, he’d seen cases where killers murdered victims for the fun of it or just because they sneezed too loudly.

So…

“Sir?”

Hearing the softly spoken address, Jackson turned. A man was at his side—a tall one of mixed race, handsome, and wearing a suit that appeared a little outdated. His face was strongly chiseled: high cheekbones, strong chin, and dark eyes set below a high brow. His vest suggested something from the Victorian era, especially considering the tailed jacket and puff of white shirt beneath it.

And then he realized the man was dead. He had been approached by a ghost.

His breath caught. Help! The kind he needed.

“Sir, hello, yes. I’m Jackson Crow—”

“And you see me,” the man exclaimed happily. “Dear God, I feared I’d be here, see what was going on, and… A man can go years without finding a seer such as yourself. I didn’t know what I could possibly do… And now I’m rambling, and the situation is dire. David Clancy, sir. Captain David Clancy. Signed up after the Second Confiscation and Militia Act of July 1862.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Jackson said. “For now, and for your service. You’ve been in the bank?” he asked.

The ghost of David Clancy nodded gravely. “There is a young woman in there, a beautiful blonde, who is doing the majority of the talking. She’s convinced the robbers to get the people into the vault that holds the customers’ boxes while taking the assistant manager to retrieve the money from the cash vault. I watched and then noticed you and the way you were moving. I’d tried to approach others for help—got a few shivers from a couple of them—but not a seer among them. You looked like some type of officer, so I thought I couldn’t lose by taking another chance.”

“We need to hurry. Except—”

“Except,” David Clancy said grimly, “if you burst in there, someone will start shooting, and children might die. The robbers are…well, one of them is a total mystery. I thought he was the brains , so to say, but now I think the other was the impetus behind everything going on and brainwashed the kid into doing this.”

“Kid?” Jackson asked. He had help now. He could truly assess the situation.

“Appears to be about seventeen or eighteen. The blonde called him Billy, and I remembered something about a home robbery not long ago where some folks were killed in front of their son. I think that’s the boy. The woman has a rapport going with him.”

“Angela,” Jackson whispered. “She would.”

“You know her, sir?”

“She’s my wife. And an agent, as well. We’re with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. It’s an agency—”

“Sir—”

“Call me Jackson, please.”

“David,” the ghost said politely. “I know about the world today. One thing about wandering the Earth is that you get to see and hear a great deal. I know this is all expedient. And I’d be rushing more, except people will die if you burst in.”

“That’s been my dilemma,” Jackson told him.

“But I know another way,” David said.

Jackson frowned. “There’s a back door. We bank here, which is, of course, why my wife Angela is in there. But the back door is uber-alarmed. It’s a small branch of a major bank, so the security measures—”

“Are meant to save the facility more than the people,” David commented dryly.

Jackson nodded. “So?”

“That’s not the only way in that I know about,” David said and appeared to inhale. “Once upon a time, tunnels extended all down the street—part of the Underground Railroad. When I was a child, I came through them with my mother. We had friends in DC waiting for us. As I mentioned, I signed up when I could.”

Jackson hesitated. He had served himself. Still, he winced as he asked, “And you…?”

“Oh, no, I wasn’t killed in the war. I was nineteen in 1862. I made it into the twentieth century. I saw some of the worst days of human carnage possible, but I also learned that any man can be a good man, and any woman can be mean or kind. I watched generations of my family grow. And that is why I know that a tunnel with an entrance to the bank through a supply closet in the assistant manager’s office remains. One of my grandsons held the job until he passed of natural causes several years back.”

Jackson looked at David and nodded.

All the souls who remained had stories. The captain’s seemed to have a harsh beginning but a good ending.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t get into it now.

“How do we get into the tunnel?” he asked David.

“The sewer.”

“Why doesn’t everyone know about the entrance?” Jackson asked.

“Because you have to know where the old break in the stretch leads to another old break in the stretch. Not that many people like to play in the sewers,” David said dryly.

“Yes, but the workers—”

David shrugged. “I’m sure some know there are holes that lead to holes. But mostly, they’re down there to work—and get the hell out. Where we’re going anyway. You ready?”

“We can come up in the assistant manager’s office?” Jackson asked, wanting the assurance.

“Yes. And no one working there now knows that the shelving unit to the left of the desk slides open. I don’t think anyone has known for the last forty years or so,” David told him.

“I’m ready to get dirty,” Jackson said. “I just need a minute to tell one of my senior agents so he keeps our backup out of sight and controls anyone else.”

“You are armed, right?” David said.

“Oh, yeah. But I’m hoping…”

“Angela, your wife, the blonde in the bank. You’re hoping she can bring about a happy ending?”

“Exactly.”

“Then wouldn’t it make sense to let them steal whatever they want and leave the bank?”

“It would, except they’ll be prepared. They’ll bring a few human shields when they come out and…well, if we have to take someone out, we need to do it with an element of surprise.”

David nodded grimly. “It’s an honor to work with you, sir,” he said.

“No, Captain. It’s an honor to work with you ,” Jackson assured him.

He called Bruce McFadden, who often stood in for him, and gave him command of whatever happened on the outside.

Then David was ready to lead the way. In a few minutes, he was casually watching the street…

And then following the ghost into the sewer.

He hopped through the lifted grate and hit the ground. The smell was overwhelming. The ancient walls were covered with a damp slime, and the ground beneath his feet was filled with God alone knew what.

And then it covered his feet.

And then his ankles.

Into it up to his knees, he trudged through with Captain Clancy, wincing and thinking that it had to be easier getting through certain situations as a ghost.

Yet he didn’t care if he had to roll in the sewer. Not only was it his job—his vocation—to stop violent criminals and save the innocent, but there was also no way out of human emotion.

His wife was in that bank. He had tremendous faith and belief in her and had seen her manage situations that might have been impossible for anyone else—himself included.

Still…

He had to get her out.

* * * *

“Everyone is in,” Angela said. “Where are we getting these bags you’re talking about that we’ll need to fill up with the money?”

“Front of the bank,” Billy told her. “Let’s go.”

“As you command,” she assured him.

The door to the vault with the personal boxes was locked at the moment, and the people in there were safe.

Elise wasn’t so safe, but Angela couldn’t see or help the woman. The best she could do was try to draw Billy out and discover if there was any way to reason with him. Understand him…

Make him turn on Kenneth.

“Front of the bank,” Billy said again. “And I’ve still got the gun. I can shoot you if you so much as blink, so don’t give me any trouble.”

“I don’t intend to give you any trouble,” she assured him. “I will do everything you order me to do. You have the people in the vault, and I believe you intend to leave them there. But…”

“But what?”

She shook her head. “I…I don’t know about Kenneth. I mean, I know what happened to you, Billy. And I must admit, I don’t understand this. You were so unfairly and brutally hurt. Your pain must be far beyond agonizing. But you were an incredible student and, more, an incredible human being. While awful, I just don’t believe it turned you so drastically, making you want to hurt people. Kill people. Put others in the same horrendous state of anguish and pain you were in. Children. Especially children—”

“I don’t want to hurt any kids,” he snapped at her.

“No, of course you don’t,” she murmured.

She might have pushed too hard. She glanced back at him as he propelled her toward the front of the bank.

“The cases are—?”

“Just ahead. Two little suitcases, roller cases, the kind you can stuff in the overhead of an airplane,” he told her. “Right there.”

“I see them,” she assured him, heading for the luggage.

They were just inside the bank’s entrance.

She saw that the sign warning that the bank would soon reopen was still up. But of course it was. While it seemed like a lifetime ago, it had only been ten minutes or so since Billy and Kenneth came into the bank. Billy had started the holdup by aiming his gun at one of the kids and warning that if his every word wasn’t followed, a child would die.

And then as many other people as he could hit before being taken down himself.

And Angela was glad—so, so glad—that the guards had chosen not to be heroes. They hadn’t even known about Kenneth at first. But between them, he and Billy could have mown down just about everyone in the bank before going down themselves.

Still, as she pretended to study the cases, Angela did her best to peer through the tinted windows.

Jackson knew by now that something was wrong. She prayed he wouldn’t come to the bank with their children.

Of course, he wouldn’t. Jackson was too smart for that. He was too smart to threaten anyone until he knew the situation. But how could he possibly know?

But he did. She knew it. He knew what was going on. She didn’t see him, but she did see Bruce McFadden. He leaned against a telephone pole outside, on his cell, laughing and chatting as if he had just stopped on the street to make a call.

That meant Jackson knew and understood what was going on. He would weigh every option and make sure the local police didn’t barge in and risk the lives of the hostages as they maintained control of the situation.

“Here. I’ve got them. Let’s go get them all filled up with money,” she said.

She turned back to look at Billy. He still had his gun aimed at her, but he was staring off into space.

Suddenly, he began to talk—perhaps to himself, her, or maybe the universe.

“She never did anything to anyone. She was one of the best human beings to ever live. And they just shot her down while laughing. They thought it was funny to see the terror in her eyes, to make me watch… And my father? He begged and begged. He didn’t care about himself. He just wanted them to let my mother go and not kill me. And the bastard told them not to worry. Said he wouldn’t hurt me. That he wanted to let me live because it would screw me all up. Because the world wasn’t fair. Everyone expects it to be fair, and it just isn’t.”

Billy suddenly turned to look at Angela. “That’s the whole thing, you see. It isn’t fair. But our minister said my parents were beautiful people. And told me I would see them again. Because, surely, if they were such good people, I’d see them again in Heaven. They were fair and equal. They loved everybody.”

“I can tell you this because I have children,” Angela said. “Your parents are happy in Heaven. It didn’t matter what that monster did to them as long as they left you alive. They were beautiful people. You should be following in all they taught—”

“No. Beautiful people get screwed,” he told her. “That’s what I’ve learned. It’s the monsters in the world who survive,” he said angrily.

“The odd thing is that you’re saying those words, yet I don’t think you believe them. I think you are a product of your parents. You are a beautiful person, too—”

“Beautiful people die,” he told her.

“Not always. And often, oh so often, monsters wind up being put down. Trust me. If they don’t die, they spend the rest of their lives in prison and behind bars. I’ve seen it so many times,” Angela told him.

He started to laugh. “What? On television?”

Angela shook her head and looked at him. “No, Billy. In real life. Monsters very often wind up where they should be. In cages.”

He seemed to give himself a mental shake that extended to a bit of a twitch in his face.

“Get the cases. We need to get them back to the vault, or Kenneth will come out and shoot you before we get anywhere.”

“Kenneth will shoot me?” she asked. “Not you?” She almost whispered it.

“I will shoot you if I have to,” he assured her.

“But you don’t want to,” she said softly.

“I just said that I will shoot you if I have to,” Billy insisted.

“But again, you don’t want to. A guy like Kenneth, however…he’s just itching to shoot someone. So far, you’ve kept him from doing so. I’ve been trying to keep these people alive, but you’re the one who has been doing it. You’re trying to keep everyone safe from Kenneth.”

“Pick up those cases, or I will shoot you,” Billy thundered.

“Just do as he says. Help is on the way. The right kind of help.”

Angela tried not to react to the words in any way.

Because they hadn’t been spoken by anyone living.

Looking beyond Billy toward the assistant manager’s office, Angela could see a man. He was tall and well-built, with dark eyes and heavily graying dark hair—a striking man in a suit with a strong face.

A suit from a different age.

A ghost. A ghost was here to help them.

Which meant they now had a ghost of a chance.