Once again, there had been no time to assess the situation. He'd applied basic rules and assumptions before entering the stairwell. He didn't think the police could have reacted this quickly. If anything, a pair of uniformed officers would reach the scene first, and they would be unlikely to head toward the sound of automatic gunfire. If they'd run into these two on a lower level, most of his assumptions would have been different, along with his reaction. He quickly searched their torsos for badges or identification, finding nothing along their belts or attached to their shirts. He turned one of the bodies on its side and retrieved a wallet, flipping it open. Nothing. If these were cops, they weren't carrying identification.
"Keep moving!" Jessica yelled at him.
He looked up and watched her reach through the doorway to pull Benjamin Young into the stairwell. She didn't seem to have any reservations or concerns about killing these men. He needed to snap out of this funk immediately. He couldn't afford to get tangled in his guilt again tonight. Getting through the lobby might get messy.
Daniel retrieved his HK USP Compact from the snarl of legs and arms slumped against the wall and reloaded his magazine before proceeding to clear the next level. He moved quickly but cautiously down the stairs, paying close attention to corners and doors. Jessica dragged Young down each staircase as he cleared them. On the fourth floor, Melendez rushed past Jessica and caught up with him.
"We took down the last shooter on the eighteenth. Munoz has our back. He told me to give you this. Said we might need it soon."
Daniel took his eyes off the next landing long enough to see what Melendez had pushed against his left shoulder. An olive drab cylindrical object with "M18" etched in white on the side. Munoz certainly didn't disappoint. A smoke grenade was exactly what he needed to ensure the success of their escape plan.
"Keep that close by. We will need it soon," he said, continuing downward.
"What's your plan for the lobby?" Melendez asked.
"Something that will hopefully preclude us from shooting our way out."
"I can't wait."
Officer Paul Anthony tried to calm the guest services manager and the two front desk agents that had been called to an impromptu meeting in the far recesses of the lobby, away from the growing mob of new check-ins. One of the front desk agents had remained behind the lobby counter, politely telling the guests that the computer system had experienced a glitch. This had been his idea and the only thing that appeared to stop the flow of check-ins without creating a general panic. Judging by the size of the line and the desperate looks flashed at them by the young black woman behind the marble counter, the computer glitch story had a two-minute lifespan. They needed to think of something quick. There was no way they could let anyone head up onto any of the floors.
Dispatch had received a single phone call from a frantic woman on the eighteenth floor, claiming that a gang war had broken out in the hallway. The dispatcher confirmed an incredible amount of background noise coming from her phone, though the woman's screaming made it nearly impossible to determine what she was hearing. Anthony and his partner, Officer Sandra Kingston, had been located less than a minute away, having just turned north onto Lenox Road from Wright Avenue. By the time they arrived at the hotel, two additional calls had hit northern zone dispatch, confirming automatic gunfire on the eighteenth floor. SWAT was ordered to mobilize a response.
One of the calls had been placed by the guest services manager and was still in progress when they walked through the revolving lobby door. The dark-haired woman handed the phone to one of the agents and scurried to meet the officers. She explained that calls had started to flood the front desk and she didn't know how to proceed. He gave her the computer glitch idea and asked her to bring two of the agents to this quiet corner where he could work out a plan that would keep guests safe until SWAT could take control of the scene. A second pair of police officers pushed through the leftmost set of mahogany-encased, glass swing doors and entered the lobby. He waved them over.
"More officers are on the way. The two of you need to instruct guests to stay in their rooms and lock the doors. Both locks. For their own safety, they need to remain behind locked doors until further notice. Don't give them any details. Let them know the police are taking control of the situation and move on to the next caller. Get another agent to help you with this. Do you have an automated system that can leave hotel-wide messages?"
"Yes. We use it for emergencies. I can access it from the security office," the manager said, looking dazed.
"I think this qualifies as an emergency. I need you to record a message informing guests to stay in their rooms until further notice. Start sending the calls immediately. We'll handle the check-ins. Where are your security people?" Anthony asked.
"They just started up the rear stairwell before you arrived."
"Recall them to the lobby immediately. Are they armed?"
"One of them. Maybe. I think he took something from his locker," she said furtively.
"Get them back here now. They'll get themselves and other hotel guests killed if they try anything crazy. Tell them this is a police order, and if they argue with you, come get me. All right, let's get this place locked down for SWAT."
Officer Anthony examined the luxuriously appointed lobby and made a quick assessment of the situation while the hotel staff swarmed the front desk. He counted three elevators in the elevator lobby adjacent to the front desk. To the left of the entrance to the elevator lobby, an unmarked mahogany door stood next to a fire alarm, resembling the most likely stairway exit. Discreetly placed illuminated exit signs situated deeper in the lobby indicated a second exit accessible from the lobby level.
"Hey! Do the elevators reach the parking garage?" he yelled.
"The one on the right, but guests can't take it directly to the garage. They have to use the other two to arrive in the lobby, then change elevators," the manager replied.
"Is that the front stairwell door?" he asked, pointing to the inconspicuous wood-paneled door.
"Yes. The other stairwell is beyond the shops and past the side entrance."
He nodded and greeted the two arriving officers. "Here's the deal; we have multiple reports of automatic gunfire on the—"
His sentence was interrupted by a double klaxon sound that echoed through the lobby and was followed by a soothing, recorded female voice. Harsh white strobe lights competed with the soft glow of the lobby's ceiling tray lighting.
"May I have your attention, please? May I have your attention, please? There has been a fire reported in the building. Please exit the hotel using the nearest exit stairwell. Do not use the elevators."
"Shit," he muttered, just as the high-decibel double klaxon penetrated his ears again.
"Get everyone out of the lobby and grab the other responding officers to help. Kingston and I will cover the lobby exits," he said, slapping one of the officers on the back.
"Who the fuck hit that alarm!" he screeched at the front desk clerk.
"I'm trying to figure that out!" she yelled back at him, clearly becoming unglued.
"This is about to become a fucking nightmare for us," he said to Kingston.
"Shit. I think our best position will be to the right of the front desk. We'll have good cover and an angle on the elevator lobby. The stairwell door is right in front of us," Officer Kingston said.
"That's about all we can do. We'll put more officers on the service elevator and rear stairs as they arrive. Let's go."
They jogged over to the front desk as the crowd of new check-ins started to pull their luggage toward the double lobby doors.