Alabaster Emissaries Read online

To say that the walls were covered in peeling paint would be a misnomer in that there was so little color left on them that it would be more accurate to say that the walls were covered in flaking dust. Lathe and plaster lay exposed like mummified open-heart surgery. Each step on the rickety ascent creaked with the threat of collapse. Nails jutted out of dessicated beams in the light of forty-watt bulbs. No one in their right mind would live here, let alone visit. But Lieutenant Zolastroya had a job to do.

  Stopping outside the third floor apartment door, she kept an eye on the open stairwell to her left in case she had to make a quick exit. She checked her lines of sight from the boarded up windows in the front stairwell and made sure her gun was visible. She knocked.

  Apartment 303 opened and Rajief was there, scowling his usual glower. He wore hole-ridden jeans beneath which were an alarming number of bruises and scars. To a cop like Katya, she knew his clothing was supposed to imply strength, like an animal’s dominance display. The sixteen-year-old grunted and let her in. She caught him glancing at her gun and snapped her fingers to get his eyes to meet hers. She held his gaze long enough to let him know she wasn’t intimidated and walked past him down the narrow hall.

  In the old, dilapidated living room, she saw Anna waiting with three other members of the Red Hoods. Two others she didn’t recognize—the hostages, probably—were tied to chairs.

  She sighed and shook her head. “God, Anna. What have you done?”

  “We want Arnau; you have him. Give him to us and we’ll let the tourists go.” She tossed her black hair and tried to look casual. But her eyes and shoulders belied her nervousness. Anna was the girlfriend of the Red Hoods’ leader and the only reason the others were backing her was that none of the gang’s higher-ups had avoided arrest.

  “You know that’s not how this works,” she said. “You let the hostages go and I’ll see about getting us around a table to talk about—”

  “No. Arnau talks; I do shit.” She walked up to Katya and tried to look intimidating. Her red leather jacket was impeccable, at odds with her surroundings, and she wore it like a badge of honor. She was in the shit up to her eyeballs and wasn’t about to back down.

  This was the point where a negotiator had to do their best. “Anna—”

  “You’re the task force liaison; make it happen,” Anna snapped.

  Katya just shook her head. In south Saint Paul, strength favored the cops. If anything happened to her, a small army of officers would converge on the address. But to Anna, the Hoods, and any other local thug, such strength was an abstract concept. They saw their own guns, their own knives and numbers, and felt invincible. It was a war they couldn’t win but would always try. Arnau had understood this; so did Katya. His absence put Katya in a difficult position. Before this was over she might have to bring him into the negotiations after all.

  “The gang activity task force doesn’t negotiate with anyone but the recognized leaders,” she said. Perhaps she could undermine Anna’s authority in front of the rest. “Where’s Sam?” She knew, of course, that second-in-command Sam Saulter had been arrested at the Mall of America, too, and was cooling his heels alongside Arnau in Bloomington. By drawing this out, by pointing out to the small audience that not only was Anna not in charge but wasn’t even in the top tier, maybe she could—

  “Arrested. So are Piotr, Cass, Malik, and Roberto,” Anna said. She kept her eyes evenly on the police representative. “You’re stuck with me and I don’t negotiate.”

  Damn stupid kid... Katya hated having her hand forced.

  “If you don’t negotiate, then don’t waste my time,” Katya said. “The task force doesn’t just do what the gangs say. If you’re going to commit crimes—kidnap people—and then issue demands, then there’s not much for us to talk about.” She turned to go. “Call me once you have something to offer, Anna.”

  She started down the hall, paying attention to the sounds behind her.

  Anna spoke up.

  “I’ll kill them,” she said. Her voice didn’t waver a bit and Katya immediately believed her. “You don’t do what we say and we’ll kill both the tourists.”

  Katya stopped at the apartment door. She turned, looking angry. “You could if you wanted to,” she admitted. “You’re holding a pretty good hand. But trust me: you don’t want to push the task force over this. Already one officer is dead and six more in the hospital. You know what that means, Anna.”

  She saw Anna’s resolve waver and the others in the room exchanged nervous glances. They knew what being a “cop killer” meant.

  At the moment, it was a lie. Four officers had been hospitalized after the fracas but no one had died. Two were in critical condition from a mauling by one of the strange dogs that had been on-site, but the public didn’t know that. Katya hoped she could make the Hoods believe they had crossed a line.

  One of the Hoods, Katya thought his name was Andrew, whispered in Anna’s ear.

  Katya crossed her arms and listened while sizing-up the two tourists.

  They were well-dressed—overly finely, she thought—and looked out of place. The woman was tall and slender with Nordic features: blue eyes, blond hair, and slender nose. She wore a kimono-like blouse, possibly silk, with delicately printed hummingbirds and roses upon its voluminous sleeves. Incongruous with the upper half of her outfit, she also wore heavy, leather pants and high boots. They were the sort of leggings that someone wore for style as well as substance. The man with her was equally unusual. He was thin and much older; possibly old enough to be her grandfather, although with no family resemblance. He wore a kaftan, deep green in color with embroidered borders of blue and yellow. Sugar daddy, maybe? Although the man looked properly terrified, the woman did not. She seemed to be watching everything carefully, sizing up her abductors with every development while idly fiddling with the bird-shaped buttons at her wrists.

  The inordinate calm bothered Katya and she hoped she didn’t have a “hero” on her hands.

  Just keep quiet, sit back, and let the professionals handle this, she thought.

  The last thing any negotiator needed in a hostage situation was for one of the hostages to start thinking they were a player.

  Anna broke from her conference with Andrew. “Ok, you go back and let them know that they can have Sam; it was all his fault, anyway. We’ll cooperate with the cops. But only—only—if Arnau is released, first.” She gestured at the hostages. “Then we’ll let them go.”

  It wasn’t much of a budge but it was better than nothing. It also bought her time.

  “I can’t promise anything,” she said. “But I’ll let the task force know.” She turned to the two hostages. “What about you? Are you folk okay?”

  The woman looked at her and smiled. It was a simple, calm expression that made Katya instantly nervous. “We’re fine, constable,” she said. “Although you should probably know that my bodyguard is looking for me this very minute. If he finds us before this gets resolved, well, I can’t be held responsible for the consequences.”

  Anna’s expression matched the feeling of surprise Katya felt at the disturbingly calm proclamation. Who was this woman? Bodyguard? Was she some sort of celebrity she didn’t recognize? In the Internet age, celebrities came and went like the wind.

  “Anyone coming for you is gonna get his ass killed,” Anna snapped. Her fellow gang members chuckled, one of them flashing his gun for emphasis.

  “Look, just sit tight and don’t get any dumb ideas,” Katya intervened. “And try to keep quiet.” She turned to Anna and put on her “authority face”. “And you keep them safe,” she said. “They’re in your care, now; if anything happens to them—even a hair out of place—and all bets are off. Got it?”

  Anna just stared back, defiantly.

  With a nod to the hostages, Katya left.

  Outside in the hall, she let out her tension with a long, slow breath. Her mind flitted back over the brief exchange with the Nordic woman. She seemed aloof—in charge, despite her situation—a
nd disturbingly confident. Katya had no idea who that woman was but had the feeling things were a lot more complicated than they appeared.