The Samana Incident

Jeanette Hansen had two more hours at the Samana town hall switchboard before her relief came on at seven. She took pride in her responsibility for the sleeping town of two thousand people, but it had been a boring night. Laying aside the letter she had been writing, she turned her radio on to get the early morning news. She heard Steve’s voice beginning an item on next September’s Independence Day and then the radio went dead. Annoyed, she clicked it off and on a couple of times, changed stations and got the Australian Oversea Service loud and clear. She turned it softer and dialed a local number, got no answer, dialed another.
“Security. Tobona speaking.”
“Jack, something’s happened at the radio station; it’s gone off the air. Can you send somebody up to check?”
“I’ll go myself, Jeanette. Did you try to call the station?”
“I did, but there’s no answer. He’s probably outside trying to fix whatever’s wrong.”
“I’ll get back to you.”
“Thanks, Jack.” She turned the radio volume back up for the Australian news.

***

As Jack Tobona's car swung into the radio station driveway, the headlights picked out a prone figure lying just outside the open door. He braked to a quick stop and radioed Samana’s other two night-duty officers: "This is Jack; I need backup at the radio station. Station's off the air, and a body is on the ground outside."
"Got it. Wahlon on the way."
Jack quickly scanned the yard—no one else in sight—and got out of the car with gun drawn. He half-crouched by the car door and glanced in all directions once more, moved cautiously to the office waiting room, found it empty. He then bent quickly over the fallen figure of Steve Talman. Steve was breathing but out cold, with a purplish swelling above his right ear.
Another car rolled up. Security officer Wahlon surveyed the scene at a sweeping glance and radioed the third car. “Sam, make a swing around the neighborhood for any strangers. Approach with great caution and call me for back up; they may be armed. Steve Talman’s been attacked.”
“I’m on it.”
Wahlon checked for a pulse and then helped Tobona carefully turn Steve on his side with his head supported on a rolled up blanket. “This the way your found him?” He stood up to survey the surrounding area for footprints.
“He was out. I didn’t see anybody moving on the way up here.” Tobona called the town switchboard on his car radio. “Jeanette, we have an injury up here. We’ll need the clinic opened up; notify the doc we’ll meet her down there in about ten minutes. Somebody clipped Steve on the head.”
“Is he all right?”
“Probably. We’ll keep a lookout for strangers. You’d best lock your office door, too.” He switched off. Wahlon examined the cable that ran from the office to the antenna tower thirty feet away. “Here’s where they did it. Machete, probably, trying to cut communication. Anyone local would have known some of us own cell phones now. We need to check the store and offices, see if this is a diversion to cover a break-in. Tell Sam to check the perimeter fence, too. Find out where the they got in, and how many there are.”

***

As she turned the double-bolt lock on the office door and checked the window latch, Jeanette remembered a night years ago, before the telephone system. Intruders had broken into her neighbor's house next-door while the husband was away. Jeanette had never forgotten hearing the terrified screams of the wife while they beat and raped her. The woman had never fully recovered even yet.
She checked her watch again—still nearly two hours till her relief came. With images multiplying inside her head, and every nerve tense, she sat on the edge of her chair, restless, her unfinished letter forgotten.
Someone tried the door handle, then knocked.
Jeanette froze. “Who is it?”
An unfamiliar male voice. “Open the door. I have a message for you.”
“Who are you?”
“Open the door!”
“Just slide it under the door. I’m busy and can’t unlock it now.” She dialed security and spoke softly and rapidly into her cell phone. “Tell all units, possible intruder at the switchboard office.”
Something heavy thumped against the locked door. “If you don’t open up, I’ll break it down. Open the door! Now!”
“Go away! I’ve called Security.” She tried to keep her voice steady, desperate fear welling up in her chest, trying to guess how many minutes until a patrol car would arrive.
“Don’t try to fool me, miss! Your phone line’s dead. Don’t make me shoot out the lock.”
“I used my cell phone. Now don’t try anything stupid!” The door shuddered as the man on the other side threw his full weight against it. Where were the security men? Hadn’t they gotten her call? Another thump on the door. More forceful this time, and the wood splintered just a little.
Finally, the sound of a car approaching, red flasher reflecting off the slats of the window blind. There was a muttered curse from outside the door and a more distant shout of “Drop it!” answered by a shot from the intruder, then two shots from the security man. Jeanette crouched down behind her desk, immobilized by sheer terror. She heard the sound of running feet, and a few moments later a volley of more distant gunfire.
In panic, she crawled as far from the locked door as she could get. Her breath came faster and dizziness overcame her; she slid to the floor just before passing out.

***
“Jeanette? Jeanette!”
She tried to focus on the face peering down at her. Her hands rose defensively before she recognized the portly figure of her boss Hans Vanderhof, with Jack Tobona standing behind him. Someone had put a cool wet cloth on her forehead. Her vision began to clear.
“What's going on?” her voice gathered strength. She remembered hearing shots fired. “Is everybody all right? There was a man with a gun . . . Did I do anything wrong? Was anyone killed?"
"You did just fine, Jeanette. You did your job and kept the whole town safe.
She suddenly realized she was lying on the floor of the switchboard office. I can't let everyone see me like this—what will people think! She sat up and tried to straighten her clothes, but her face dropped down into her hands in terror as the scene came flooding into her mind again. Then a sudden rage took over. After all, the town's safety had been entrusted to her. Who does that man think he is, barging in here with a gun and trying to tell me what to do! She struggled to her feet, disdaining assistance, leaning on her desk a moment while her dizziness passed, and reached for her cell phone. "It's time we fought back! I'm not off duty till seven, Hans." She turned to Jack Tobona. "No offense to you, Jack, but I'm going to report this to the Provincial Police. We'll need all the help we can get."