Sign of the Maker (Boston Crime Thriller Book 4) Brian Shea (black authors fiction txt) 📖

let it go as he exhaled, knowing that the best way to achieve justice was to take him into custody. There were still so many unanswered questions, and the only way for them to get true closure was through interrogation. Kelly knew he probably would not be the man doing the questioning, but he still wanted that closure. He needed it. He was personally invested in this case, and so was every one of them standing there. He could feel the tension rise as tactical moved in.

"Mr. Smith, we can see you in the storefront. We need you to come out through the broken door. Take your hands out of your pockets before you do."

Smith stood still. He did not walk forward, but he did remove his hands from his trench coat pockets.

"Hands are clear. I repeat. No visible weapon," Sniper One squawked.

"Mr. Smith, open your coat so we can see you are not armed."

Smith did not comply. The message was delivered three more times with the same result.

"He's not complying. Your call, boss," one of the operators said over the tactical channel.

"Call him out, but watch his midline," Captain Lyons answered.

"Walk to the sound of my voice. Do it now!" The PA projected the clear, concise command.

Smith remained still.

"Mr. Smith, to ensure your safety and the safety of those around you, we need you to comply with our requests. Keep your hands visible at all times and take three steps forward. Do it now!"

Smith said nothing. He did nothing for the next two minutes, which felt like an eternity for everybody on the scene. Kelly could clearly see Smith now. A spotlight illuminated the storefront. Smith's eyes were focused and intense, and the sight of it completely unnerved Kelly.

Then Smith moved. It started slowly with one step of his left foot. Each additional movement came in metronomic fashion, as if he were keeping in sync with a clock's precision. He continued his robotic gait until he stepped onto the sidewalk. Then he raised his hands, palms out and just cresting the shoulder, a lazy man's surrender.

"Put your hands higher into the air. Do it now."

Smith didn't comply. He remained motionless.

"Mr. Smith, you are going to be placed under arrest. The only way we can do that is if you comply with our instructions." A pause followed, giving the recipient time to process. "I need you to get down on your knees and keep your hands where I can see them. Do not reach for anything. If you reach or move in a way that we perceive as a threat, you will force us to shoot you. You need to understand that you are completely surrounded. There are snipers on the roof. There is no point in resisting."

Smith nodded ever so slightly.

"Get on your knees. Do it now."

Smith hesitated for a few seconds. Then, keeping his hands at the same height, he dropped to his left knee, followed by his right. He looked like an evangelical preacher in the throes of prayer.

"Arrest and Control Team has the ball," Captain Lyons announced over the radio.

"Take down on my mark. Get him to go to the ground."

"Mr. Smith, lie on the ground. Put your chest on the sidewalk."

Smith remained kneeling with his hands halfway up.

"Mr. Smith, you need to comply. Failure to do so could result in your death. Get on the ground and put your arms out at your sides like an airplane. Then look away to your right. Do it now!" The tension in the voice projecting through the Bearcat's speaker system was audible.

Smith continued his silent protest, remaining completely still.

"He's not responding. Your call." The words came across the radio's tactical channel.

"Arrest and Control is taking him on my mark."

There comes a point in time when circumstances dictate the course of action. Smith was exposed in front of the store. He complied with the initial instructions but resisted the last few. Some suspects couldn't go all the way. Kelly knew this from his time as a negotiator. Sometimes it was due to an internal power struggle, a criminal's last offering of resistance. Whatever the reason, Smith was not responding, and this standoff needed to come to an end.

"Sniper One has good eyes." Sniper One broke the silence.

"Arrest and Control moving."

The seven operators moved from the Bearcat’s shadow. A short, squat operator led the way, holding a ballistic shield in front of him. They stayed tight and moved as quickly as tactics allowed while maintaining a tight formation.

The commands now came from the Arrest and Control Team. "Get on the ground, get on the ground!" a voice boomed as they closed in. The point man rammed his convex ballistic shield into the left side of Smith's body.

Just as the shield made contact, Smith spun, using the impact’s momentum to a perfectly timed advantage. Kelly looked on in horror as Smith took the now off-balance operator by surprise. The two-man in the stack slung his assault rifle back and reached out for Smith with his right hand while his left came up with a pair of white flex cuffs.

Smith moved quickly—quicker than Kelly had anticipated, and quicker than any of the operators had anticipated. When the apprehension operator slipped the first flex cuff around Smith's hand, he twisted and wrapped it around the two-man's throat. They were now linked together with the flex cuff choking the SWAT operator and Smith ducking behind him.

His left hand came up, and it was no longer empty. He was holding a detonator. The Arrest and Control Team tactically relocated, quickly falling in behind the shield man. Every gun was pointed at Smith, but no shots were fired.

"He's wearing a vest!" the operator-turned-hostage called out.

Smith tucked himself behind the SWAT cop, using him as a human shield.

"Sniper One, take the shot," Lyons commanded.

"I've got no shot. Repeating, no shot," Sniper One said.

"Sniper Two?"

"Sniper Two, no shot."

Smith dragged his hostage back against the wall of the store. Kelly's gun was out, but he was too far from