+18 - eps 6-11 - A unique city. A unique police team led by a unique woman. And an uptight fed set on a collision course.
On the second installment of the Blackbird Series, new cases push Brock and Gillian to work closer together, even in order t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Four SWAT agents and two Squads took the lead upstairs, followed by Brock, Aldana, Fred and Hank. They didn't bother to check every apartment on the second floor, they just went on to the next flight of stairs, up to the third floor and the closed door to apartment 324.
A Squad checked the doorway for tricky devices and found none, so a SWAT agent readied the ram. Brock's voice thundered across the hall. "FRANKLIN WOOD! FBI!"
There was no answer and SWAT slammed the door open. Aldana stopped everybody and made the Squads check the doorway and clear it. Only then they stormed in.
Wood was in the kitchen, sitting at the table, back turned to the door. His reflection on the window showed his smile at the loud footsteps and all the weapons cocked behind him. He stood up slowly, raising his hands. He held a dead-man trigger in one of them, his thumb pressing the button. He turned around with a confident, cocky smile, showing the explosive vest he wore with a phone attached to it, the screen reading, "CALLING DEATH".
His conversational tone matched his smile. "Welcome to my humble home. Where's Gillian?"
One of the SWAT agents tried a step closer. It took Wood a single glance to make him step back. Then he turned to Brock, assessing he was leading the procedure. "Bring her. You have three minutes."
Brock nodded at Aldana, who walked out, whispering on her radio. Then he holstered his gun, his eyes fixed on Wood. "She's coming."
At the ground floor, Gillian paced up and down near the stairs, completely mad at herself, wondering how the hell she'd let the stupid bitter man impose himself to her like that at a field procedure. It was her who should be upstairs, cocking her gun at Wood's head! But she just couldn't help it. It felt so damn natural, letting him make all the calls. It felt so damn safe and right. She considered calling a shrink to have her head examined. Not because it wasn't safe, or right. From all of them, Brock was by far the one with more experience dealing with nutjobs gone terrorists. But she was no stupid green-shot that needed to be told what to do! Especially if it meant falling back and waiting while others did her job!
Then she heard Fred dead-cold whisper on the radio, "Got'im."
Aldana murmured, "Reg, get out. He's got a wireless dead-man detonator and a suicide vest with an active phone. And he wants you upstairs."
Russell was coming to meet her when her eyes widened, the trick suddenly crystal clear. Her voice echoed all over the ground floor and the yard near the building door when she called over the radio, "THIS IS LT GILLIAN! EVERYBODY GET INSIDE THE BUILDING NOW! A BOMB IS ABOUT TO GO OFF OUTSIDE!"
At the same time, Wood glanced at the door and smirked at Brock. "You've sent her out, right? So predictable. Bye-bye, Gillian."
He raised his free hand as to reach the phone on his vest. Hank and Fred moved at the same time: Fred shot Wood between the eyes as Hank jumped onto the man, both hands reaching out to catch Wood's and keep it pressing the detonator when he fell, instantly death. Downstairs, Gillian and Russell were at the building's entrance, hurrying in any agent that was still out. The last one had just brushed in when the Bomb Squad truck exploded, shaking the whole building and scattering smoky twisted pieces of steel all around.
