The Big Bad Wolf

WE HAD STARTED TOWARD the Davis house with the brown-and-white cocker spaniel when a report came over the two-way: "Two suspicious males. Heading toward Las Olas Boulevard. They've spotted us! We're in pursuit." We were only a few blocks from the shopping district and got there in minutes. The cocker spaniel was barking in the backseat. Fort Lauderdale police patrol cars and FBI sedans had already formed a tight ring around a Gap clothing store. More patrol cars were arriving, their sirens screaming in the night. The street was crowded, and the local police were having trouble stopping pedestrian flow. Mahoney drove up to the blockade. We left a window cracked for the dog. He and I jumped out and ran toward the Gap. We were wearing flak jackets, carrying handguns. The store lights were blazing. I could see people inside. But not the Wolf. Not the bodyguard either. "We think it's him," an agent told us when we got up close to the store. "How many gunmen inside?" I asked. "We count two. Two that we know about. Could be more. There's a lot of confusion." "Yeah, no shit," said Mahoney. "I get that impression." For the next few minutes nothing useful happened - except that more Lauderdale patrol cars arrived on the scene. So did a heavily armed and armored SWAT unit. A hostage negotiator showed up. Then a pair of news helicopters began to hover over the Gap and surrounding stores. "Nobody's answering the goddamn phone inside," the negotiator reported. "It just rings." Mahoney looked questioningly at me and I shrugged. "We don't even know if it's them inside." The negotiator took up a bullhorn. "This is the Fort Lauderdale police. Come out of the store now. We're not going to negotiate. Come out with your hands up. Whoever's in there, get out now!" The approach sounded wrong to me. Too confrontational. I walked up to the negotiator. "I'm FBI, Agent Cross. Do we need to back him into a corner? He's violent. He's extremely dangerous." The negotiator was a stocky guy with a thick mustache; he was wearing a flak jacket, but it wasn't secured. "Get the fuck away from me!" he shouted in my face. "This is a federal case," I shouted right back. I grabbed the bullhorn out of his hand. The negotiator went at me with his fists, but Mahoney wrestled him to the ground. The press was watching; to hell with them. We had a job to do here. "This is the FBI!" I said into the bullhorn. "I want to talk to Pasha Sorokin." Then suddenly the strangest thing of the night happened, and it had been a very strange night. I almost couldn't believe it. Two men emerged from the front door of the Gap. They held their hands in front of their faces, shielding them from the cameras, or maybe from us. "Get down on the ground!" I shouted at them. They didn't comply. But then I could see - it was Sorokin and the bodyguard. "We're not armed," Sorokin yelled, loudly enough for everybody to hear. "We're innocent citizens. We have no guns." I didn't know whether to believe him. None of us knew what to make of this. The TV helicopter over our heads was getting too close. "What's he doing?" Mahoney asked me. "Don't know... Get down!" I shouted again. The Wolf and the bodyguard continued to walk toward us. Slowly and carefully. I moved ahead with Mahoney. We had our guns out. Was this a trick? What could they try with dozens of rifles and handguns aimed at them? The Wolf smiled when he saw me. Why the hell was he smiling? "So, you caught us," he called out. "Big deal! It doesn't matter, you know. I have a surprise for you, FBI. Ready? My name is Pasha Sorokin. But I'm not the Wolf." He laughed. "I'm just some guy shopping in the Gap. My clothes got wet. I'm not the Wolf, Mr. FBI. Is that funny or what? Does it make your day? It makes mine. And it will make the Wolf's too."