A perimeter had already been set up by the time the trio arrived. They got out of the car and walked towards the main action, George striding in front, his hands in his tan trench coat pockets, while Sam and the lady flanked behind him, drawing out their tranquilizer guns. Towards the front of the old building, the police officer currently in charge was trying to talk down the lead kidnapper, who was holding a struggling, terrified hostage in front of him as a shield. His six cronies were behind him, holding their own writhing shields.
“This does not need to end in violence,” said the officer. “Let the hostages go and come quietly and you will not be harmed.”
“Try to harm us and you harm them,” said the leader, shaking his hostage to emphasize. “Obey our terms and they shall be released unharmed. Number one…”
George had heard enough. He raised his hands and the leader’s hands released his hostage, who immediately started running wide-eyed towards the perimeter, then rose up above the leader’s head. His cronies followed likewise, their hostages running pell-mell and unhindered towards the perimeter. The thugs tried to go after them, but found that their feet were stuck to the ground. The seven then glared at the man in the tan trench coat extending his hands in the obvious use of power, who was currently sweating over the strain of restraining all seven of the men. With a nod, he and the other officers walked towards the miscreants, searched them for weapons, then handcuffed them. As soon as that was done, George released the men to be lead away to the paddy wagon and sat down on the steps, noticing the gleam as his partners finally placed their pistols back into their holsters.