Crossing Savage Read Free Page B

placed his hand on her arm to comfort her. But she brushed his hand away and pushed back her chair, starting to rise.
    â€œSit down and be still,” Jeremy commanded, making no effort to be diplomatic. The man holding the pistol turned and glared at him, and the woman did as she was told, but her sobbing carried on.
    The initial confusion in Jeremy’s mind was rapidly overcome by raw terror. Beads of perspiration formed on his forehead; he tried to swallow, but his throat was dry. Then he noticed a small package strapped to the waist of each of the four intruders who now surrounded the audience. The olive drab packages looked to be made of plastic.
    Jeremy could clearly see the package on the closest man. It had writing molded into it that read: “This Side Toward Enemy”. His blood turned ice cold; he recognized these as mines from scenes in the movie Swordfish —Claymore directional antipersonnel mines—engineered to blast hundreds of steel balls forward in a sweeping arc of death and destruction. Each mine contained about a pound of C4 explosive, and that alone, in the confined space of the conference room, would likely kill everyone.
    The man with the pistol stretched his arms above his head and spoke, “Listen to me!”
    The command seemed to catalyze another wave of fear, and a chorus of sobbing began anew. He spoke again, this time more forcefully. “Quiet! Listen to me!”
    The room quieted, but only somewhat. He continued, “My name is Kaseem. We are here to conduct a simple business transaction. You people are our insurance policy. Do what you are told, and no one else will be harmed.” Despite his foreign appearance, Kaseem spoke English well, and his accent suggested an American education.
    He looked around the room, the pistol still plainly visible in his hand. “Everyone move to the center of the room.” Slowly, three men sitting near the back of the room stood and moved forward toward the center. Bill Shell, Jeremy, and the two other speakers stepped down from the stage and also gathered in the center of the room. Jeremy had his arm around the shoulder of the woman he had tried to calm, her panic seemingly replaced by a state of shock, her face ashen and eyes unfocused.
    â€œSit down and shut up!” Kaseem ordered. He then removed a cell phone from under his robe and dialed.
    In a calm voice Kaseem said, “I wish to report a shooting at the Gran Meliá Hotel in Sabana Grande. I have hostages. I will negotiate a ransom for their safe return.” He hung up and addressed the room. “Soon the police will arrive. Then we can conduct our business and be gone.”
    To the side of Jeremy a voice spoke up, “What do you want with us? When can we go?” Jeremy glanced towards the voice.
    Kaseem replied, “I should think our intentions are quite clear. You are our hostages. We intend to ransom you to the Venezuelan government. If you resist or try to escape, you will be killed. We have explosives strapped to our bodies—we are all ready to die if necessary.”
    The room was silent. No one dared speak. Everyone, except for the five terrorists, was seated. Jeremy glanced around at the faces. Terror and shock registered on every one of them. Only moments before these people were proud, confident… even arrogant. Now they were cowering like beaten dogs, heads hanging down and avoiding eye contact with the terrorists.
    Finally, the silence was interrupted by the sound of frantic movement outside in the hall followed by a knock at the door and the sound of a bullhorn.
    â€œThis is Captain Ortiz with the Caracas police department. We wish to speak with whoever is in charge.”
    â€œI am in charge. I can hear you fine!” Kaseem shouted. “Carefully slide a cell phone past the door. But do not try anything that you will later regret.”
    The door was pushed open slightly and a cell phone slid across the floor, then the