Tolerance Book II

Chapter Sixty-One: Danger Zone

21st Precinct Reception

"And you don't know the exact nature of the threat?" Trudy Platt eyed Adam unhappily as they stood to the side of the tall reception desk.
"Jay's assessing it as we speak."
"But evacuation is necessary?"
"Jay seems to think so Sarge. He figures it's best to err on the side of caution."
"I'd prefer to speak to Sergeant Voight first ....,"
"No can do ...,"
"What do you mean?!" the blunt Sergeant was not used to being challenged, especially by junior Officers.
"Look Sarge all I can tell you is there may be a threat of some kind in Voights' office. Jay is checking now," Adam hastily tried to appease the irate woman, "if there is one time is of the essence in clearing the area."

The seasoned Sergeant eyed her companion appraisingly. He obviously had faith in Halsteads' instructions. She decided she would too.

Voights' Office

Voights' left hand was resting on the open top drawer of his desk. Beneath it lay an A4 page which had a brief message printed in large bold black typeface 'SOUND OR MOVEMENT WILL BRING OBLIVION'. The brevity of the note was overshadowed by the ominous items underneath. The question of whether or not King was going to use the military supplies had finally been answered once and for all, at least partly. Underneath the thin white missive clumped together was a stash of the M67 hand grenades. A quick count translated the 'stash' into fifteen. Although most were shielded by the thin paper their distinctive olive green colouring and shape rendered them easily identifiable. Raising his eyes from the lethal store he caught Als' steady gaze through the window. Holding up one hand in a closed fist he spread his fingers out and wiggled them telling the older man they had an explosive threat. Holding up ten then five fingers he knew the ex-Sniper would understand what he was imparting.   Al would apply logical reasoning for a military mind and work out the fifteen represented hand grenades as there were only a few lethal possibilities that would fit in a desk.  After receiving a nod of understanding Jay finally gave Voight his full attention.  The other man, although looking strained, was not panicked, not that the Detective had expected him to be.  He figured the marked strain related to the physical effort of keeping his hand immobile rather than any emotional response. Nodding to the Sergeant he moved forward to bend over and get a close up view of the problem.  The page under Voights' steady hand did not bear enough weight to trigger the hand grenades that much was a given.

For his part, although unhappy about his subordinate willingly stepping into danger, Voight felt a measure of relief. The ex-Ranger had experience with military weapons after all so he assumed he had a basic knowledge of the M67s.  Unbeknownst to the Sergeant however his youngest Detective was cursing Kings' choice of weapon.  The truth was apart from basic training his only knowledge pertaining to hand grenades related to the aftermath of same being used.  There was nothing clean about a hand grenade attack. Such an attack was the very definition of messy to all intents and purposes. As he scrutinised the various mounds visible searching for anything unusual and quickly discerned that the caveat about silence was a false alarm. Carefully lifting the A4 page out from under Voights' hand after giving the man an assuring look the ex-Ranger eyed the now fully exposed M67s searching for what connected them.  To his relief and surprise each grenade was independent of the other.  Jay had assumed King would have linked them together in some manner for maximum impact.  The finding however did not negate the ominous threat.  With a frown the Detective straightened up and then surprised the three seated men.

"It okay.  Talking won't set this lot off."
"You sure?' Murphy double checked in  a whisper, he had no wish to meet his end just yet.
"Yeah.  There's nothing else besides the M67s ...,"
"So I can move my hand?" Voight asked.
"Yes, but slowly."
"So we can get out of here?" Parker didn't even try to act nonchalant, it had been a very long passage of time since Voight opened his desk.
"Not yet," Jay looked at the Psychologist apologetically, understanding the desire to get away from the danger, "the Bomb Squad is on the way.  Best option is to let them assess the situation ....,"
"But ....,"
"Hell Parker he makes sense," Voight chided the New Yorker gently, he couldn't blame him for wanting to take off.
"How many grenades?" Murphy enquired deciding to concentrate on details rather than a possible grim outcome.
"Fifteen," Jay imparted reluctantly and noted the looks of dismay which settled across the trios' features, "none of them have pins missing ...... which is good."
"We'd be talking to you on a different plain if they had," Voight stated wrily even though he appreciated the attempt to reassure them.
"How long would it take for them to explode if the pins were pulled?" Parker wasn't sure why he was curious but it was better than stressing over their present circumstances.
"Anywhere from two to six seconds," Jay recalled from basic training, he  purposely didn't mention that was if the grenades were fragmentation ones.