Carrothers hesitated. “We don’t, Mrs. Warren. We were hoping you could tell us something about the house, some vulnerability we might exploit.
Or maybe I could go in with the girl. I don’t know. But we have to do something.”.
She sighed. “He said he would hurt the kids?” “Yes, ma’am,” Carrothers said, thinking about what he had just offered to do, and wondering where the hell that idea had come from. Kiesling horned in again. “We can also just wait,” he said. “We can cut the power to the house, isolate him, make him understand he has zero options here.
Wear him down. Talk him down.”, “But you can’t storm the house, can you?” she said. “Not while he has that thing in there.”
“There are other measures that could be taken,” Carrothers said, looking over her head at Kiesling, and then back at Gwen. “Measures that will be taken, if we don’t resolve this thing very soon.”
“What does that mean?” she said.
Carrothers again did not know how to tell her. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. “The National Command Authority has authorized the destruction of the house,” he said. “My guess is an air strike of some kind at first light. I’m sorry, Mrs. Warren. In its own way, that cylinder is a weapon of mass destruction, not so very different from an atomic weapon. I guess what I’m saying is that the real choice is that the girl goes in, or no one comes out. Again, I volunteer to take her in. Maybe together we—”
“That’s no choice at all, General, is it?” she said, standing up, brushing off her clothes. “This is truly wonderful. You people let this monstrosity get loose, John Lee Warren is dead, and now you’re willing to snuff out five innocent children and two adults, just like that, to cover your tracks? What’s that Army slogan, General? ‘Be all you can be’? Is this all you can bet’
“Yes, ma’am,” Carrothers replied, unable to meet her gaze. Even Kiesling looked embarrassed.
“Well, there is a way to do this. I’ll take Jessamine in.” “You?” Kiesling said. “But—”
“No, I don’t expect you to understand, and according to the general here, we don’t have time to discuss it. I will go in with her. You go tell him that. The kids, Mrs. Benning, the cylinder, in exchange for the two of us.”
Kiesling looked at Carrothers, shrugged, and headed back toward die command center, calling for his agents to get Carson on the phone again.
Carrothers watched him go, then turned back to find both women watching him. Their expressions were disturbingly similar, although the girl looked scared to death, while the woman looked mostly determined. Then he realized what she might have in mind: Take that girl in there, and then the girl was going to do something to Carson. With her mind. He felt a sudden chill of fear, and then a desperate need to know.
“Can she do this?” he asked softly. “It’s real?”
There was a flicker of understanding in her eyes, but then she was all business again. “Make your arrangements, General,” Gwen said. “Then call us when you’re ready. She and I need to talk now. Privately, please.”
Carrothers backed away, his throat dry. He tried not to walk any faster than he absolutely had to. He looked at his watch. Not much time. He’d better call the Pentagon, let them know they might again have a deal to get the weapon back. He wondered how he would ever explain all this to Sue. Be all you can be. Jesus H. Christ!
Carson hung up the phone and pushed it away. Stafford could hear him do it, but he still could not see much in the darkened room.
“Well, well, well,” Carson said. “They’re going to do it. They’re sending in the girl. With the woman who runs this place, it seems, in place of the general. Suits me. You go get the old woman and those brats into the front hall. Remember: No lights, and don’t you try any bullshit. I’ll be right behind you and I’ll put one through your spine.
Then I’ll shoot as many kids as I have bullets.”
Stafford couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was against all procedures for a hostage situation, which meant they had to be trying something. But why at mis hour? Why not wait until daylight?
And why Gwen?
“Move it, I said,” Carson rasped. He was obviously trying to put some force in his voice, but the weakness was clearly evident. Stafford got up, wondering again why the forces outside didn’t simply wait Carson out. Because they don’t know something’s wrong with him, he realized as he went to the parlor door and called Mrs. Benning. If there was only some way he could communicate with them, but every window in the house was shut up tight. Then he was conscious of Carson standing behind him in the hallway as he waited for Mrs. Benning to get the kids up. Carson told him to unlock the door.
He’s got three rounds left, he thought; maybe only two. If I rush him, I might achieve surprise, take him down. He’s feverish, and probably weak.
I know he is: I can hear it in his voice, see it in the way he’s doing everything very slowly. He was standing right next to a chair in the hallway. Maybe wait for the kids to start out, grab the chair and hurl it in Carson’s direction, and then charge him. Even if he got shot, Carson might be out of ammo, and the kids could run for it. But would they know to do that? He sighed. And how well could he throw a chair with one arm? Carson was a desperate man, talking about opening that cylinder, shooting the kids. You’re the one who ought to be desperate, he thought. Why do you suppose Carson wants you and the girl in here?
He kept trying to think of a plan, any plan. Gwen and the girl were coming in. The kids and Mrs. Benning were being released. That would put three of them in the house with Carson. Three rounds left. But maybe only two. Was there some way to get him to shoot? Get the number of bullets left down to fewer than the people facing him and they could take him. But not without coordinating their action.
Hell, I’m going in circles here, he thought. Just play it as it lies.
“Figured out a move?” Carson asked him in a mocking voice from the end of the dark hallway. “Because I don’t think you have one.”
The kids came out into hallway, holding hands, their eyes wide. Mrs. Benning came out behind them, encouraging them to move toward the door but to stay together.
“Hold them right there,” Carson ordered. They all froze when he spoke.
Stafford was standing near the bottom of the steps; he thought he could just make out the kids’ faces. Then he heard Carson pick up the hall telephone.
“Okay,” he said. “Have the woman and the girl come up the walk to the front door. I want them standing on the porch outside the front door, where I can see them. I want them to ring the doorbell when they’re in position.” He hung up the phone before the hostage negotiator at the other end could complicate it. “You people stand in front of the door.
Stafford, you get down on the floor, facedown. Spread out your arms and legs.”
Stafford did as he was ordered, and he thought he felt Carson getting closer, but from his spread-eagled position on the floor, he could not even begin to move without giving Carson plenty of warning. Mrs. Benning herded the kids over in front of the door. Stafford could just see them silhouetted against the glass. Then they waited.
Three minutes later, everyone jumped when the doorbell rang. There was a flare of light out in front of the house, probably from someone pointing a car’s headlights up the drive.
“Stafford,” Carson said, and Stafford tuned his head to look down the hallway. “Catch this.” v
Something came sliding across the floor and collided with Stafford’s left arm. He reached for it with his left hand. It was Carson’s bag.
“Slide it up to the front door. Don’t you move; just slide it over there.”
Stafford did as he was ordered, sliding the bag like a shuffleboard disk into the small knot of children plastered against the front door. As he did, he realized the bag was too light.