Chapter 186: What's the situation?
The last thing in the bottom of the bag were a couple of mega-energy bars.
The outside pocket held a bundle of narrow plastic strips with teeth along one side and a small hole in one end. I couldn't figure them out.
"They're handcuffs," Bambi explained. "You slip the pointy end through the hole and pull it tight. Once they're on, they have to be cut off."
I thought that was a lot easier than trying to keep track of a pair of metal cuffs and keys and I could carry a lot more of these, since they weighted almost nothing.
I repacked the bag and put it on. With it in place around my hips, the bag rode just above my butt. In that position, the weight was hardly noticeable.
Just to be sure it wasn't going to be a problem; I played around on my monkey bars with it on. I had a lot of fun bracing myself in different positions on the bars and then dropping to the mat from the ceiling, like a spider on its prey. Every time I did it, it made Bambi jump.
I also tried climbing up and down the pegboard. I found that I could make it much harder if I used the holes that were as far apart as I could reach. That required much more strength and perfect timing to do.
When Neeka got back, carrying a garment bag, Bambi and I were sitting at the desk, poring over the manual for the radio. We had managed to get it turned on, and were listening to the general channel to get a feel for how it was used and how people sounded. I was surprised at the clarity of the voices that we heard. I had expected a lot of static and garbled messages, but there was none of that. I had also expected a lot more formality and use of 'Roger' and 'Over' and that sort of thing, but except for the frequent use of the 10-something codes, there was very little formality.
We both laughed the first time we heard someone say, "Dispatch, show unit P31 as 10-10, I gotta take a leak." Obviously 10-10, which was on the list as 'Temporarily Out of Service' actually meant 'Restroom Break'.
We left the radio on while Neeka got into her outfit. She had a pair of black stretch stirrup-pants, a low-cut black knit top with thin shoulder straps and a leather double-breasted jacket. She also had a pair of short black leather boots and a black chauffeurs cap. With the wraparound sunglasses, she looked like the chauffeur for some biker gang. All she needed was some chains hanging from the jacket and an Iron Cross embroidered on the back.
With the front flap of the jacket buttoned back, she showed a good amount of cleavage. When she pinned her shoulder-length red hair up and hid it under the cap, she looked very imposing and stunningly beautiful.
We were so busy posing and admiring ourselves that we didn't catch the first of the radio calls reporting 'robbery in progress'. By the time we started listening, the number of calls had picked up and the urgency in the voices was obvious.
As best as we could piece together from what we heard, there had been a robbery at a grocery store out on Highway 15 on the outskirts of town. Several units had been dispatched there and an announcement was made by the dispatch operator that unit Sierra-One was on-scene and in command. We were listening intently, trying to figure out what was going on when we heard the call, "Sierra-One to Delta-Romeo-One. Delta-Romeo-One, do you copy?"
I was waiting to hear the reply, when Bambi said, "That's you, honey!"
The call came again, "Sierra-One to DR-1. Do you copy?"
I swallowed a giant lump in my throat and pressed the bar on the base of the microphone. The click and the sudden silence were terrifying. I said in as firm a voice as I could manage, "Delta-Romeo-One copies Sierra-One. Go ahead."
"DR-1, Sierra-One requests assistance at 1340 North Highway 15. We have a situation here I hope you can help us with." Sheriff Foster's voice sounded tense.
"Delta-Romeo-One copies. Dragon is en route." My voice sounded more confident than I felt.
"Thank you, DR-1. Please hurry."
Neeka and I looked at each other and the same thought echoed through both our minds, "So soon! I thought we'd have more time!"
Bambi said, "That's the Big Star on the north side of town. You'll need to hurry to beat the rush hour traffic."
We all ran to the other end of the room. Neeka jumped on the bike, Bambi hauled the double doors open and I steeled myself to climb aboard the bike behind Neeka.
When the big bike started up, I thought my knees would fail me. I had just started to climb aboard when I thought of something. I ran back to the desk, got my badge and ID out of my bookbag and stuffed it into the fanny pack.
Wishing I had time to run to the bathroom first, I hauled my butt onto the leather seat behind Neeka and held onto her waist as she raced the engine and launched us out the door. She was using the request to hurry as an excuse to see what the bike would do.
I wish I could describe the trip to the crime scene, but the truth is, I had my eyes closed most of the way. I remember us tilting to one side and then the other so far that I was sure we would fall over and go sliding across the asphalt. I remember peeking out of one eye whenever Neeka stopped at traffic signals, and vainly hoping that the trip was over each time we slowed down. At some point the wind blew my cowl back off my head. I could feel it blowing through my short blonde hair.
After what must have been much less time than it seemed, Neeka nudged me and I opened my eyes and looked over her shoulder. We had arrived at the store and were approaching the parking lot. Ahead was a police cruiser blocking the entrance and a deputy waving at us to stop. Neeka coasted to a halt beside him.
"I'm sorry girls, but you'll have come back some other time. The store is closed right now." He seemed polite enough, but his gaze seemed to be more attracted to Neeka's cleavage than the badge I held out to him.
"Where is Sheriff Foster?" I asked.
The deputy allowed himself to be distracted long enough to look at my shield and answer my question.
"The command post is on the north side of the building," he said, looking from the ID to me and back again as though suspecting some trickery. "Look for the truck, you can't miss it."
"Thank you," I managed to shout as Neeka roared off into the parking lot in search of the truck.
The command post was right where the deputy said. Neeka drove up beside the big vehicle and hit the brakes so hard I slid into her back as we came to a stop. I was off the bike instantly and headed around the truck with Neeka right behind when Sheriff Foster and a man in a black uniform and a vest with pockets all over it stepped out to meet us.
"Who the hell are you two?" The officer in black demanded. "Don't you know..." He was interrupted by the Sheriff before he could finish.
"Can it, Grogan! This is the help I told you was coming."
From the way he looked at us, Grogan obviously had strong doubts about what help we might be. He opened his mouth to express them, but shut it again when the Sheriff addressed me.
"Who's this?" He said, indicating Neeka. "Your chauffeur?"
"Yes, at my agency we like to go first class." I said. He looked at Neeka, the bike, and me. I think he thought he was being put on, but he didn't dare laugh. I decided to save him from his dilemma. "She's also my Communicator. If you talk to her, you're talking to me. She will keep you advised of what I'm doing and where I am and if I need anything."
Foster obviously didn't understand, but the concept was clear enough. He nodded to Neeka. She touched two fingers to the brim of her cap in acknowledgement.
"What's the situation?" I asked.
"We've got a robbery gone bad, I'm afraid. Two armed men tried to hold up the grocery store here about an hour ago. The manager saw what was happening and locked the safe and ran out the back. Not willing to give it up, at that point the robbers took hostages. They've got two female clerks, a bag boy, and four customers — two women and two children.
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