"Ah, screw ten million. Let's make it twenty."
"You're yanking my chain, Jerry."
He let out a laugh. "I thought about killing you, Phoebe. A thousand times."
"If you thought about it, why didn't you do it?"
"A thousand ways. A bullet in the brain. Much too clean. Grabbing you like I did Roy, doing you like I did him. But I don't like repeating myself. Beating you to death, or keeping you alive for days, just putting holes in you. But then it'd be over for you, like it is for Angie. You don't deserve what she got. How about this, you come on in here. Just you, and I let them all go. Every one of them."
"You know they won't let me do that."
"You come in, seventeen people live."
"You'd trade all the hostages for me. Is that a real offer, Jerry, or are you yanking me again?"
"You won't do it. You're nothing but talk."
"But if I would?"
"They wouldn't let you. You think I'm stupid? You think I've forgotten how it works?"
"I don't, but have you forgotten that you've got Sergeant Meeks's son in there, injured. He's got pull. Is it a real offer, Jerry? Me for all seventeen?"
"I'll think about it. But you're going to do something else first."
"What else would you like me to do?"
"You're going to go out there, in front of all the cameras. You're going to give a statement on how you killed Angela Brentine. How you're responsible for her death. How you cared more about running your mouth and playing big shot than saving her life."
"You want me to speak to the press, Jerry, give a statement about the death of Angela Brentine?"
"You're going to say exactly what I tell you to say, exactly when I tell you to say it. Then we'll see about the money and the hostages." He hung up.
Before she could rise, Duncan pulled her right out of her chair. "If you even think about trading yourself, I'll knock you out, lock you up until you get your senses back."
"You thought about it when it was you."
"It's my mother in there, the only one I've ever really had. And screw this, I'm not debating or arguing, or anything else. You're not going near that building."
"Chill out," Sykes ordered. "She's not trading herself. We don't work that way." He looked hard at Phoebe. "Not ever. This isn't Hollywood."
"You bought it." She jabbed a finger at Duncan, then at Sykes. "You know better, but you bought it. I promise you he did. He wasn't expecting me to consider it. He was screwing with me again, and I threw him off by giving the demand any credence. He bought it, he's thinking about it. What he wanted, expected, was to get me to agree to make the statement. Or to refuse. I do either, it's over. That's what he's waiting for, my public confession. But now he's thinking what it would be like if I came inside. If he had me in there. So how do we use it?"
"Show of faith," Sykes said.
"That's first. Get him to release some of the hostages-and before there's any agreement or refusal on the statement. Because that was his green light. We stall. Put us on the same side on this issue. I want to go make the statement, but they're dicking around on it. I want to go in, but they're stonewalling. I'm trying to work it so he gets what he wants. I'm frustrated because it's taking so long to get the go on it. He's used to following a plan, an outline." She looked at Vince.
"I guess, yeah. Ah, it's training. You have to adjust, sure, to think on your feet, but it's all within the outline. You train for variables. But he likes… order? I guess that's the word I want. He's not real impulsive. He'd rather figure it through."
"He's doing that now. Does he want to go through with his original plan-blow it all up, himself included, while I live, disgraced but breathing? Or, if he gets the opportunity, wouldn't he rather take it down to the two of us? The hostages aren't anything to him, but they're everything to me. That was the idea. But to be able to look me in the eyes when he sets off that bomb, that's going to be tempting."
"He's tired," Duncan added. "You can hear it in his voice. So are you. He probably hears it in yours. He's getting closer to ending it."
"Yes, he's closer, bringing up the press statement, that's his lead into the final stage. Now this has given him something else to chew on."
"Activity inside." Sykes held up his hand for silence as he listened to his radio. "No visual on the subject, but the hostage identified as the owner is untying two of the women. Got a clear view. One hostage, female, black, middle age, walking toward the rear."
"It's Ma Bee," Duncan murmured while fear closed a vise on his heart. "It's got to be."
Ma walked back to the bathroom as directed. She moved slower than she needed to, even hobbled a bit though it hurt her pride.
He made her leave the door open, which seriously offended her sense of propriety. Still, she peed like a racehorse and looked around for a weapon of any kind while her grateful bladder emptied.
She wasn't a fool. He was going to kill them all. If she could hurt him, even a little, she'd have some satisfaction on the way to Jesus. But there was nothing to grab. A bottle of liquid soap, a little dish of potpourri that wasn't worth the throwing at the man's head. In any case, he had that damn gun in that security guard's ear.
She shuffled out again, kept her eyes downcast as if cowed. "I'm Beatrice. They call me Ma Bee."
"Shut up, get back in the circle."
"I just wanted to thank you for letting me go first, before I embarrassed myself."
"You don't shut up and go sit back down like I tell you, you're the last one who goes."
She did as she was told, but she'd seen he had another gun, and more ammunition, in one of the boxes he'd wheeled in. More important, she'd seen what she thought had to be the detonator.
"Has to be the bathroom break," Sykes told her. "The way they're moving from the circle to the rear, one at a time. First hostage is back. She's… Tactical says she's signaling. Signing. Three handguns, one rifle, ammo, detonator, rear right corner with bad guy, injured guard."
"Count on Ma," Duncan whispered.
"Get us the hell out of here," Sykes finished and pulled out a smile. "I'm calling him back while he's moving them back and forth, while he's got to divide his attention. Let's push him on the deal."
The phone rang, three times, four. Just as she was worried he wouldn't pick up, his voice snapped on. "I don't want to talk to you now."
"But, Jerry, I wanted to tell you about the deal. I can't promise yet, but… If you can't talk to me now, I'll wait and tell you later."
"What? You're not going to snow me, tell me you're going to make the statement, make the trade, just like that."
"I'm not trying to snow you, just keep you in the loop. I don't want anybody to get hurt. The chief doesn't like the statement-politics, you know how it is. But I'm working on it."
"Politicians like their scapegoats. You tell the chief if he doesn't give the go on it, if you're not in front of those cameras inside the hour, we're down to sixteen hostages."
"I'm going to tell him, Jerry. I'm going to tell him that all you want is for me to make a statement about my responsibility for Angela's death, and you'll let everyone go. Is that right, Jerry?"
"I got a change of plans. You come in. We'll use one of these camera phones for the statement, transmit it. That's how we're going to do it."
"You'll trade me for the hostages, is that what you're telling me?"
"You come in."
Still not going to let them go. " Arnie's daddy's pushing for it, like I expected he would. I haven't even had a chance to think it through myself and he's banging his fist. Jesus, he's a hard case."