The Enemy Within

Lang pointed out the nearest window toward the synagogue. “You know much about the temple layout yet, Harlan?”

“Not as much as I’d like to, which is why I’m having somebody dig the blueprints out of the county records office,” Tanner admitted. He pursed his lips. “I do know it’s a hell of a big place, John. See that large building on the eastern end? That’s the centerpiece. Got a worship hall in there that can seat six hundred and an adjacent auditorium that’ll hold as many more. Plus a slew of offices, dressing rooms, kitchens, classrooms… and that’s just the main building. The whole complex takes up a full city block. And there’s wide-open ground on all three sides facing away from the street.”

Helen fought down the urge to swear out loud. This situation was sounding worse and worse. They were up against an unknown number of enemies, holding an as yet undetermined number of hostages in an unknown location somewhere inside a labyrinth. Just terrific. She focused her attention on the main building, trying hard to concentrate on possible solutions instead of intractable problems. “That roof’s flat all the way around?”

Tanner nodded slowly. His eyes gleamed. “You thinking about working this one from the top to the bottom, Agent Gray?”

“Maybe. I’d like to ”

“Mind if I join your little planning session, Captain Tanner?” Lawrence McDowell’s perfectly modulated voice broke in on the conversation. He looked triumphant. “Especially since your governor has now agreed that I’m in command here?”

“Fine by me.” The Virginia state police officer nodded dourly. He stepped back slightly to make room for the other man.

“Good to see you, Larry,” Lang lied smoothly, apparently determined to avoid a scrap with the agent in charge until it proved necessary.

McDowell smiled thinly. “You too, John.” He glanced at Helen briefly, frowned coldly, and immediately turned his attention back to the two men. “I don’t usually work this informally, but since you’ve already begun, let’s just carry on from here, shall we? Now, as I see it, our first order of business is to conduct a covert reconnaissance of the synagogue grounds. Once we know where these terrorists have barricaded themselves, we can work on establishing communications with them. Our negotiating team is enroute by helicopter. I expect them no later than 0100 hours…”

Helen listened to him regurgitating the Bureau field manual with mounting irritation. The son of a bitch apparently intended to ignore her whenever possible. Very well. That suited her just fine. Let him pass his orders through Lang, then. He could play his insidetrack power games, and she would get on with the business of rescuing those kids.

Suddenly, she noticed him eyeing her again, nervously this time. She made him nervous? Why, for God’s sake? As the agent in charge, he held all the cards here. What kind of threat did she pose to him?

Then she understood his reasoning and hurriedly tamped down a crooked grin. McDowell was deathly afraid that her presence would jinx his chance to be a media superstar. If the press found out that the Hostage Rescue Team’s tactical commander was a woman, they’d trip all over themselves making her the story and not him. He evidently judged everyone else by his own low standards. Didn’t he realise that the very last thing a counterterrorist assault section leader wanted during a hostage standoff was publicity?

She was still shaking her head in disbelief when McDowell finished issuing his orders with a terse “Very well. You know what I want done. Now let’s go do it.”

While a rigid, poker-faced Tanner stormed off to marshal his own forces, Helen followed Lang out into the hall. They walked a few steps away from the crowded doorway and then paused, looking closely at each other.

“Can you put up with McDowell’s shit? Or should I try to have him yanked off this operation?” the HRT commander asked abruptly. His tone was dead serious, and he clearly expected a carefully considered response from her. During any hostage crisis, tension between different agencies and different branches of the same agency was normal and expected. But bitter dissension between the overall commander and his ranking subordinates was another matter entirely. When you were dealing with terrorists holding prisoners, success or failure often hinged on a snap judgment made in a split second. Under those circumstances, uncontrolled personal disputes and rancor carried far too high a price in lost innocent lives.

Helen faced her superior full on. She wasn’t going to be sidetracked by personal animosities not now and not ever. Besides, laying her squabble with McDowell in front of the Bureau’s higher-ups was more likely to hurt her than him. He had more pull with the FBI brass than she did.

With that in mind, she spoke firmly and with absolute determination.