Phil was sitting at the counter, shotgun ready, sipping the coffee Gillian had made for him. She was still behind the counter, always working on stating that she might be unarmed, and Phil might have the guns and make the calls, but she was not just another hostage.
At Phil's feet, Cook was lucid enough to grunt and bull. "You brainless punk, you have no idea who you're messing with."
Gillian felt a growing need to punch his lights out, stronger than any other day. Phil scornfully poked Cook's good leg with his foot.
"Touch me again and—"
"And what, old man?" Phil crouched down and put the barrel of his gun right under Cook's jaw. "And what?"
Cook glared at him. "Don't make the mistake of thinking I'm afraid of a scumbag like you."
Phil cocked his gun and Gillian came swiftly from behind the counter. "Allow me, Phil."
He straightened up, still looking down at Cook. "Somebody should teach your boss some manners, ma'am."
"Tell me about it," she grumbled, and turned to one of the waitresses. "Get me a clean cloth."
The girl hurried to a table while Gillian kneeled by Cook. Good. Phil kept calling her "ma'am"—damn moron—but he was okay with her calling him by his first name. And he allowed her to instruct the waitress. Now came the hardest part: trying to talk some sense into Cook's stupid head. She leaned closer to whisper, "Captain, shut your mouth or you're gonna get us all killed!"
Such a waste of breath. Cook blushed out of anger at her words. "You shouldn't be trying to...!"
"Oh, shut the hell up!" she snarled, cutting him off, right when the waitress brought a clean table cloth.
Then the phone rang. About damned time. Phil picked up in a carefree way. "Orlando's coffee shop, we're a little busy right now, please call back in a couple of hours."
Before he could hang up, he heard Russell speaking and stayed on the line.
"Phil, this is Agent Coleman, with the FBI. I just wanted to make sure everybody is fine in there."
Phil smirked. "Hello, Mister Agent. Yes, we're just fine, why wouldn't we?"
Gillian held back a sigh at the word "agent". Russell had made it and Cooper was in charge of the situation!
Russell chose his words carefully to keep Phil on the line. "I understand somebody got shot a while ago."
"Yeah, this annoying oldtimer trying to be a hero."
"You're talking about Captain Cook. We can take care of him for you, if you would allow us."
"Look, Agent, I'm just waiting for a friend here, so the sooner he comes, the sooner all of this will be over."
"Can you tell me the name of the person you're waiting for?"
"Robert Strafford, he owns the place."
Brock glanced at Tanya, who was already typing.
"Okay, we can look for him," Russell said, very calm. "But you must understand that before we can let you meet'im, I need something to work on, Phil."
"Oh, I see, you want me to show some good will, right? Well, bad news, Agent. I just ran out of good will. For good."
"We can work this out together, Phil. Let Captain Cook out and we can talk about your request."
"There's nothing to work out here, Agent Coleman! Send Robert Strafford in or I'll start shooting people till you do!" Phil yelled, and hung up.