Lies Ripped Open Read Online Free Page B

discussion.”
    “Can you dodge bullets?” another of the agents asked. “Because if you can’t you might need one.”
    “Point taken,” I agreed.
    “Hopefully you won’t need it at all,” Mike said. “This is just in case.”
    I put the vest on and glanced at my watch. “Sixty seconds left.”
    Mike walked with me toward a nearby barrier, which had two armed police using it as cover to keep their weapons aimed into the massive building.
    “We sure he’s alone?” I asked.
    “No,” Mike admitted. “Just another reason for you to be careful .”
    I turned and walked off toward the four sets of doors that made up the front entrance, pushing one of them open and stepping into the shopping center. I walked up the sloped entrance for about a hundred and fifty feet, passing half a dozen shop fronts, until I came to a temporary kiosk selling pretzels that had been left abandoned, the remains of the last purchases smushed into the tiled floor.
    “That’s enough,” a voice called out from ahead. “Turn around, show me you aren’t carrying.”
    “You’re the man in charge,” I said as I lifted my vest as best as possible and turned on the spot to show I was unarmed. From where I was, I still couldn’t see whoever was talking, but at least I knew the rough direction he was in.
    “Yes, I am,” he shouted.
    “Why pick these people? Why here?”
    “I fucking hate malls, or shopping centers or whatever the fuck you want to call them. Mindless fucking drones all buying shit to make their miserable lives better for ten minutes.”
    “Well, there’s a shop that sells ice cream. That’s pretty good.”
    “Funny guy. Now walk toward me, slowly. Keep your hand s up.”
    I did as he said, and after a few steps I saw the hostage taker for the first time, standing several meters away from the shop he’d taken control of. He was maybe six-two, with short hair, and was clean-shaven. He wore a long, black shirt, blue jeans, and white trainers. In one hand was a gun, which he held aimed at the head of a man kneeling beside him. The man on his knees was weeping softly; a gouge under his eye was fresh and blood wa s strea ming down one side of his face.
    In stark contrast the hostage taker appeared calm and relaxed. The splatter of blood on his shirt probably wasn’t his, and his general demeanor suggested he was more than willing to kill someone.
    “Stop walking,” he demanded.
    I did as I was told. “Where’s the hostage?”
    The hostage taker motioned for a girl of about thirteen who’d been standing just inside one of the shops to walk over.
    “Go,” the hostage taker demanded, and she glanced at me before sprinting off toward the entrance.
    “Call me by my name,” the hostage taker demanded when we were alone once more.
    “I don’t know your name,” I explained.
    “Yes, you do.”
    “You want me to call you God? Aren’t you worried that’s sort of begging for a lightning bolt to smite you? Does God throw lightning bolts? It’s been a while since I read the Bible.”
    He raised his gun toward me. “I’ve got something better than a lightning bolt.”
    “So, God, how are things going?” I asked. “What do you want?”
    The man laughed, the gun wavering for a moment, until he regained his composure. “I want to put a bullet between the eyes of everyone here,” he shouted at the top of his voice, and there was a general cry from the crowd of people still inside the jewelry shop, although from where we were standing I couldn’t see any of them. “But instead, you and me are going to take a walk.”
    He motioned for me to walk back the way I’d come and I complied. I hoped putting distance between him and the hostages would give them time to escape, or at the very least give one of the armed officers a clear shot.
    We walked until we were about halfway between the front doors and Hopkins Jewelers—where the hostages were hel d—w hen he told me to stop. There was about ten feet between us;