I passed my hands through my hair and scrubbed my own tired eyes. New York City has one of the best reputations in the world for resolving hostage situations nonviolently, and I hated like hell to be a part of changing that fine tradition. But I couldn’t argue with Hunt’s logic. D-Ray definitely wasn’t even trying to help me save him.
I nodded, defeated. We had to think about his family now. There was no other way.
I listened to Joe Hunt call the armored truck and order it to start moving toward us. As soon as it came into sight, I’d be talking to D-Ray for the last time.
We stepped out of the bus for a breath of fresh air while we waited.
Two
As I climbed outside, the first thing I noticed was the chanting from a different crowd – at the far end of the block, in front of a housing project over on Frederick Douglass Boulevard.
It took my brain a second to decipher the words: “Fight the power!”
Hunt and I exchanged stunned looks. We cops were there to save the lives of their friends and neighbors – including two little children and the much-loved Miss Carol – and we were the bad guys? Talk about a neighborhood in need of some new role models.
“Fight the power! Fight the power!” The roar kept coming at me while I anxiously searched for the armored truck.
New role models! my brain yelled back.
Then, out of nowhere, the two thoughts connected.
“Hold that truck, Chief!” I hollered at Hunt. I rushed back onto the bus and snatched up my headset, nodding to a uniformed TARU tech to patch me into the brownstone again.
“D-Ray, it’s Mike Bennett,” I said when he picked up.
“You got two minutes, cop!” He was practically frothing with agitation.