"Corn's set-negotiation control's in that ladies' boutique up there." Sykes gestured.
"Okay, I need everything, every scrap we have on him, everything we know or think we know. I need Mike Vince sent up as soon as possible. I need you with me, Sykes. I talk. Nobody talks to him but me." she continued as they hurried toward the boutique. "I need you to feed me information, to let me know if I go off on the wrong angle. He wants to play this out, too, so he won't rush it if we don't rush him. You help me interpret, help me listen, help me with every goddamn thing. Because he knows how this works, and he's waiting for me to make a mistake. He's salivating for just that."
"He's got nothing to lose, Lieutenant."
"No, he's already lost. What he wants is for me to sweat, then blow the whole thing-including himself-to pieces. This isn't a negotiation. But the longer he believes I think it is, the longer we have to get everyone out alive."
"You think he knew Arnie was security there?"
"Yes." She stepped into the boutique where her base had been set up amid thin summer dresses, pretty accessories, high-end handbags and fashionable sandals.
"I think it must have thrilled him to find out Arnie was on the door there. I think he saw it as a sign that he'd chosen his last stand perfectly." She stripped off her blazer, tossed it aside. "We already know why he's in there, what he wants. But we play it out. Start the checklist."
She sat at a table cleared of stock, pressed her fingers to her eyes. "He's cold, rational, committed. He's suicidal. He wants to die. This is another kind of suicide by cop-but a specific cop. Me. I fail, everyone dies. My failure's his motive, but that doesn't go for him unless we establish negotiations, unless we talk, play the game."
She checked her watch. Ten minutes exactly, she told herself. If she called a minute before, a minute after, he could use it as an excuse. She ordered herself to clear her head, to find the calm. When Liz came through the door, Phoebe was counting down the last two minutes. "Your guy Duncan's just outside the perimeter, with his lawyer, Phineas Hector. He says he has to talk to you, right now. It's urgent."
"I can't-"
"Phoebe, he says he's got two people inside. He says he knows two of the hostages."
"Pull him in, fast."
One minute, fifteen seconds, she noted when Duncan and Phin came in.
"He's got my mother in there," Phin blurted out. "He's got my wife and mother in there."
It was like a bare-fisted blow to the throat. "Are you sure?"
"They were going to meet me there." The fight for control was obvious on his face as Duncan stood shoulder to shoulder with Phin. "I talked to Loo on her cell a few minutes before twelve because I was running late. They were inside. They were waiting for me. Jesus, Phoebe-"
"They're not hurt. He hasn't hurt anyone but the security guard."
But her hands had gone clammy. "They're smart, sensible women, and they won't do anything to get themselves hurt."
"If he knows who they are…" Duncan began.
"He doesn't. He couldn't know they'd be in there. He isn't looking at them. It isn't about them. I need you both to go stand back there. Don't say anything, don't do anything. He doesn't know who they are, my connection to them, and that's vital to keeping them safe. I have to call him back. He can't hear anything but me now."
She signaled as Mike Vince came in. "I'm not asking you to go outside. I'm trusting you to let me do my job. You trust me to do it. Sykes,
ADA Louise Hector and her mother-in-law, Beatrice Hector, are inside. I'm calling him back," she said to Vince. "I want you to listen. You have anything, anything at all to add, to help, any question, you write it down. Don't speak. I don't want him to hear your voice."
"Christ, Lieutenant, Christ, I can't believe Jerry would do something like this."
"Believe it." She shoved a pad and pencil at him, then made the call. "Right on time."
"What can I do for you now, Jerry?"
"How about a car, and a plane waiting for me at the airport."
"Is that what you want, Jerry?" She read the note Sykes put in front of her. "A car, a plane?"
Fifteen hostages, cuffed together in a circle. Explosive device in the center of the circle.
"And if I did?"
"You know I'd try to get it for you. Might be able to swing the car. What kind of car would you like, Jerry?"
"I've been looking at those Chrysler Crossfires. Gotta love the name, and I buy American."
"You'd like a Chrysler Crossfire."
"Might. Loaded."
"I'll try to get that for you, Jerry. But you know that you'd have to give me something for it. We both know the way this works."
"Fuck the way it works. What do you want for the car?"
"I'd have to ask if you'd release some hostages. Anyone with a medical condition to start, or children. Jerry, will you tell me if there are any children in there?"
"I don't do kids. If I were going to do a kid, I'd've done yours. Had plenty of opportunities the last couple years."
"Thank you for not hurting my daughter," she said as her blood ran cold. "Jerry, are you willing to release some hostages if I can get you the car you want?"
"Hell no." He laughed himself breathless.
"What are you willing to give if I can get you the car you want?"
"Not a fucking thing. I don't want any goddamn car."
She curled her hand around a bottle of water someone had set in front of her, but didn't drink. "You're saying you don't want a car, at this time?"
"Could've put a pipe bomb in yours. Thought about it."
"Why didn't you?"
"Then we wouldn't be talking right now, would we, you stupid bitch."
Mood swings. Conversational tone, then adversarial. Drug use?
"I understand you want to talk to me. So tell me, Jerry, what can I do to help resolve this situation?"
"You can pull out your piece, stick the barrel in your mouth and pull the trigger. How about doing that? I'll let all the female hostages go if you blow the back of your head off while I'm on the line. I want to hear it."
"If I did that, we couldn't talk anymore. You told me you wouldn't talk to anyone but me. If anyone else tried to talk to you, you'd kill someone. Do you want to talk to someone else, Jerry, or to me?"
"You think you're going to build a rapport with me?"
"I think you have things to say to me. I'm here to listen to you."
"You don't give a fuck about me. You didn't give a fuck about her."
"I understand that you blame me for what happened to Angela."
"You let her die, same thing as killing her. She bled to death while you fucked around with the men who put the bullet in her. I had the shot. In the first hour I had the kill shot, but didn't get the green."
Lies. Probably believes he had the shot now. Needs to believe he could've saved her.
"None of us knew she'd been so seriously hurt, Jerry. They lied to us, to all of us. None of us knew Angela was hurt at all in that first hour."
"You should've known!"
Fury. Grief. "You're right, Jerry, I should've known. I should've known they were lying." She read the next communique that came in with a runner. "I understand you loved her, and she loved you."
"You understand nothing. "
Agree with him, Mike Vince scribbled on his pad. Don't say you understand or you know. Only make him madder.
"How could I, really? You're right. How could I understand that sort of bond? Most people only dream of having that. But I do understand that you were going to be together. You should've been together,