The ASPD headquarters were buzzing with activity.
Elias Vance strolled through the central hall, among officers dashing between desks and speaking in short, tight sentences. Wall screens displayed live security feeds of the Grand Hotel of Midnight—stuttering, distorted video of frightened civilians taken hostage at gunpoint. The feed kept breaking in and out, static hissing as the hotel jammers disrupted communications signals.
Captain Nathan Ross stood at the head of a long table in the war room with his hands on the table. His weathered face was tense, and frustration lines etched his forehead. Behind him, senior officers and tactical analysts looked over blueprints of the hotel and whispered to each other.
Elias came in, his rain-soaked silver hair still moist from the rain. He greeted no one.
"Give me the situation." His voice was even, steady.
Ross glanced up at a slight angle. "It's bad, Vance. Bad."
He pointed to the blueprints. "Grand Hotel of Midnight—32 stories, completely cut off. Early reports indicate more than eighty hostiles, weapons at the ready. They have explosives, automatics, and…" He paused.
The eyes of Elias narrowed. "And?"
Ross exhaled. "They executed the front desk staff on arrival. No negotiations. No demands yet. Just bloodshed."
The room descended into a somber silence.
Elias stared at the screens. The security tape ran and ran from different parts of the hotel—people lounging in the lobby, civilians kneeling on the marble floors, and masked men walking down the corridors with guns.
This was not a simple takeover. These were professionals.
"Is the ID of the group known?" Elias asked.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Ross shook his head. "Not yet. No declaration of responsibility. No taped chatter. It's like they just appeared out of nowhere." Elias's jaws clenched. That was impossible. Individuals such as this did not just turn up. Somebody had planned this, to the last minute.
"What about Internal Security?"
Ross winced. "Hotel security was eliminated in the first five minutes. We lost all internal communications afterwards. Cameras are operating barely. The entire place is booby-trapped—any direct attack, and they'll begin executing hostages."
Elias scanned the layout of the hotel. Thirty-two stories, eighty-something hostiles, civilians all over.
A complete siege was not possible.
"Who's inside?" he said.
Ross's eyes darkened. "VIP guests. Politicians, company executives, celebrities. But one name was predominant."
He displayed a photograph on the screen. Hudson Calloway.
Elias's brow wrinkled. "The son of the billionaire?"
Ross. "Calloway Enterprises is a leading company in this city. His father has that kind of influence where he can make the government change if he wants to. If something were to happen to Hudson.".
The effects would be catastrophic.
Elias said nothing. "It doesn't change the job."
Ross exhaled. "I knew you'd say that. We go in stealthily and quietly. Your squad will go in through the roof and descend. We'll take out the high-priority targets and occupy one floor at a time."
Elias read the map once more. "Five-man team?"
Ross inclined his head. "You, Reynolds, Torres, Deke, and Carter. Best we've got."
Elias sighed and stretched his fingers. "When do we leave?"
Ross met his gaze.
"Now."