How right I was! The national press coverage given to Shorewood High School proved to be a two edged sword. Eleven of the twelve students basked in the attention and thrill of seeing their faces on TV. Matthew was the exception. He was a no-show for a local TV show hosted by his friend, Gus Edwards that was picked up and broadcast nationally by NBC. Matthew claimed he had a last minute conflict but it soon became apparent that he was avoiding any publicity.
One morning Matthew came into my office to talk and I asked him why. “Would it hurt to do a couple interviews?. If nothing else, it might stop the reporters from following you around.”
“Coach, you know it isn’t that easy. The press is never satisfied; give them a little and they want everything. It’s better to just ignore them.”
“You’re probably right, but there’s more to it, isn’t there?”
Matthew looked at me for several seconds before deciding how to proceed. “My uncle called last week.”
“The uncle that raised you in Europe?” I asked.
“Yep, that’s the one. He’s in trouble again and needs my help.”
“Russian Mafia trouble?”
“He owes them money again and they want it now. They saw my picture in the newspapers and figured I can get it for them. They also claim my uncle and I owe them money from our business in Europe.”
“How much?”
“My uncle said $50M, but that’s ridiculous. They only invested a couple million.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked, thinking of the money in the ‘We Kick Ass’ accounts.
He read my mind. “Don’t worry, Coach; I won’t do anything that stupid. Besides, I already told Chris Lewis who passed it on to her friends at the FBI. They’re handling it.”
My relief was evident. “Well, it seems to be all you can do for now unless you can really see the future and make some money at the horse tracks.” Matthew smiled, leaving me with the impression that he could, if he wanted to.
“Coach, these guys are crazy. They are capable of anything. That’s why I want to keep a low profile.”
“You’re afraid they’ll come after you here, in the U.S?” I asked in disbelief. “Would they do that?”
“Or my friends,” he said gazing intently into my eyes. He wasn’t smiling.
“Later, Coach. Be careful.”
Mathew left my office and I sat silently for twenty minutes, trying to digest what I had just heard and contemplating my options. Should I tell Rosann? What could she do, stay home with the door locked? All she could do was worry. I picked up the phone and called Chris Lewis.
“Chris, hi, this is Jim. What do you know about Matthew being threatened by the Russians?” I blurted, showing my state of mind.
“Well, hi Jim, I’ve missed you too. How’s Rosann?”
“Come on Chris, Matthew just told me what’s going on and I’m worried sick. He said these people will do anything.”
“You should be worried, Jim. These are dangerous people. We have a couple teams watching Matthew, but that’s not enough to stop them if they really want to go after him.”
“Do they?”
“Our sources say they are pissed, but I’m not sure they are angry with Matthew or the uncle. The problem is that the uncle is a loser and broke. They won’t get any money out of him unless it’s through Matthew.”
“Would they go after Matthew’s friends?” I asked, trying not to show Chris that I was afraid for Rosann and the kids.
“They might, but I’m not sure what we can do about it. Matthew has a lot of friends and the FBI has only so many people. We might be able to assign someone to Coach Wilson’s family.
“I’d appreciate that, Chris. Thank you. What about the 11 students that made up the Lucky 12?”
“I’ll see what we can do.”
“Thanks, I feel a little better just talking with someone about it.”
‘RINGGGGGGGGGGGG’
The school loudspeaker came on with ominous message.
“The school is in a level one lockdown. Teachers and students are instructed to go to their assigned stations. This is not a drill!”
“Jim, Jim, what’s going on?” Chris shouted from the other end of the line.
“I don’t know,” I replied before hearing shots ring out.
‘Bam-Bam-Bam’
“Someone has a gun. I have to go.”
“Don’t hang up,” Chris replied, “let me listen”.
“Okay, gotta go,” I shouted as I peered out into the hallway.
One brief glance confirmed my worst fears. The school was under siege. A hooded man stood at the end of the hall wielding an automatic pistol and was shouting at kids to find their assigned rooms. Students were screaming or cowering in terror, afraid to move. Two boys tried a side exit, but it was locked. No amount of pounding would change that fact.
The man kicked one student and told him to get moving. He carried a walkie-talkie or some kind of communication device so I figured there was more than one of them. My suspicions were confirmed when two others came into view before disappearing down the main corridor.
I shut the door and grabbed the phone. “Chris, you still there.”
“Yeah, what’s happening?”
I told her what I’d seen. “It looks like the entire school is under siege. What should I do?”
“Grab your cell phone and find a place to lay low. It might help if we have someone free on the inside.”
Office and classroom doors were being opened down the hall and I heard footsteps in the hall, it was time to go. I grabbed a letter opener and headed out the back door into a corridor leading to the school gymnasium. There was a maintenance tunnel off the corridor that provided an ideal place to hide until Chris could figure out a plan.
Simpson got out of his office just in time. Two men burst into his office moments after he had slipped out the back door. “Search the room,” the taller man ordered with a ring of authority.
Thirty seconds later it was obvious the room was vacant. “There’s a back door leading to a hallway, Yury. He could have escaped that way.”
“Follow him, we know he was here earlier.” Yury noticed that the desk phone was off the hook. He placed his finger across his lips to demand silence as he picked up the receiver. He heard nothing. Not even a dial tone. “Hello,” the man called Yury said softly.
“Who is this? What do you want?” Chris replied after a moment’s hesitation.
Yury smiled, the Coach had to be nearby. “I’m the man who controls the lives of 1,200 students. Who are you, bitch?”
It was Chris’ turn to hesitate. Should she claim she was just a friend? Should she tell the truth and admit she was just a cog in what would soon become a political and administrative nightmare. Every law enforcement agency would be vying for control, and this was before the politicians got involved. Everyone would be looking for that 10 second sound bite that would make their career. Valuable time would be lost before order was restored; time that the hostages might not have. Chris decided to take control.
“I’m Chris Lewis, Special Agent, CIA, the bitch that decides whether you live or die, Yury.” Chris attempted to throw him off guard by letting him know she knew his name. It worked.
“Well, Chris, it’s nice to talk with another professional. Since you know my name I’m sure you already know that I was also involved in a similar situation, or are you still searching?”
“Oh, shit,” Chris mumbled to herself as her laptop spit out the results of the new search parameters. “Besian,” Chris replied slowly. “You were the lone survivor.”
Chris remembered the horrific tragedy very well, but skimmed an article to refresh her memory. The basic facts were simple. On September 1, 2004, 32 Chechnya militants took control of School Number 1, an elementary school in the city of Besian, Russia. 1,200 students, faculty and parents were taken hostage; 334 people died including 180 children and 31 of the hostages. It is the worst school massacre in Russia’s long history.
&n
bsp; “Now that I have your attention, let’s establish the ground rules. Are you listening?”
“I’m listening,” Chris said as she connected a recorder to her phone.
“These demands are non-negotiable. Make sure your superiors understand that.
1. You are my sole contact. I will not deal with anyone else;
2. SWAT teams will not attempt to storm the school and free the hostages. Explosives are being wired to all doors and windows. The explosives will detonate automatically;
3. I want Matthew Wilson here by 1:00 PM or we will begin executing five hostages every hour, on the hour.
Are my instructions clear?”
“Yes, but I did something from you.” Chris replied evenly, trying to think on her feet. It was definitely a good sign that Matthew was not captured.
“You are in no position to negotiate.”
“Hear me out. You need to recognize how our government works. They need to know we can deal with you in good faith before my superiors will agree to anything.”
“Go on.”
“We need you to give us the dead and seriously wounded. There is no reason for you to keep the dead and the wounded will only make it harder on you. Agreed?”
“Agreed. I’m happy to say that to my knowledge, no one has been killed, yet. ”
“Good. Now tell us what you want. Why are you doing this? What do you stand to gain from this?”
“I already told you, we want Matthew Wilson, and the 500M Euros that he owes us.”
“He owes you 500 Million Euros?” Chris repeated in obvious disbelief.
“Including principal, interest and expenses,” the terrorist coolly replied. “It takes a lot of money to put together and equip an assault team of 32 men.”Chris doubted there were 32 men, but the number was significant, an obvious reference to the Besian massacre.
“Remember, we need Matthew by 1:00 PM today, or the killings will begin. Call me if you have any questions,” Yury said before exchanging cell phone numbers with Chris and disconnecting.
Chapter 19 - CIA Rescue Plan