Читать книгу Law And Disorder - Heather Graham, Heather Graham - Страница 9
ОглавлениеNick Connolly—known as Barrow to the Coconut Grove crew of murderers, thieves and drug runners who were careful not to share their real names, even with one another—was doing his best. His damned best.
Which wasn’t easy.
Nick didn’t mind undercover work. He could even look away from the drugs and the prostitution, knowing that what he was doing would stop the flow of some really bad stuff onto the city streets—and put away some really bad men.
From the moment he’d infiltrated this gang three weeks ago, the situation had been crazy, but he’d also thought it would work. This would be the time when he could either get them all together in an escape boat that the Coast Guard would be ready to swoop up, or, if that kind of maneuver failed, pick them off one by one. Each of these guys—Dillinger, Capone, Floyd, Nelson, Kelly and Schultz—had killed or committed some kind of an armed robbery. They were all ex-cons. Capone had been the one to believe in Nick’s off-color stories in an old dive bar in Coconut Grove, and as far as Capone knew, Nick had been locked up in Leavenworth, convicted of a number of crimes. Of course, Capone had met Nick as Ted—Ted Johnson had been the pseudonym Nick had been using in South Florida. There really had been a Ted Johnson; he’d died in the prison hospital ward of a knife wound. But no one knew that. No one except certain members of the FBI and the hospital staff and warden and other higher ups at the prison.
None of these men—especially “Dillinger”—had any idea that Nick had full dossiers on them. As far as they all knew, they were anonymous, even with each other.
Undercover was always tricky.
It should have been over today; he should have been able to give up the undercover work and head back to New York City. Not that he minded winter in Miami.
He just hated the men with whom he had now aligned himself—even if it was to bring them down, and even if it was important work.
Today should have been it.
But all the plans he’d discussed with his local liaisons and with Craig Frasier—part of the task force from New York that had been chasing the drug-and-murder-trail of the man called Dillinger from New York City down through the South—had gone to hell.
And the stakes had risen like a rocket—because of a situation he’d just found out about that morning.
Without the aid, knowledge or consent of the others, for added protection, Dillinger had kidnapped a boy right before they had all met to begin their takeover of the Crystal Estate.
It wouldn’t have mattered who the kid was to Nick—he’d have done everything humanly possible to save him—but the kidnapped boy was the child of Holden Burke, mayor of South Beach. Dillinger had assured them all that he had the kid safely hidden somewhere—where, exactly, he wasn’t telling any of them. They all knew that people could talk, so it was safer that only he knew the whereabouts of little Adrian Burke. And not to worry—the kid was alive. He was their pass-go ace in the hole.
That was one thing.
Then, there was Dakota Cameron.
To be fair, Nick didn’t exactly know Kody Cameron but he had seen her—and she had seen him—in New York City.
And the one time that he’d seen her, he’d known immediately that he’d wanted to see her again.
And now, here they were. In a thousand years he’d never imagined their second meeting would be like this.
No one had known that Dillinger’s game plan ended with speculation—the vague concept that he could kidnap Dakota, take her prisoner—and hope she could find the stash!
Dillinger planned the heists and the drug runs; he worked with a field of prostitution that included the pimps and the girls. He had South American contacts. No one had figured he’d plan on taking over the old Crystal Estate, certain that he could find a Cameron family member who knew where to find the old mob treasure.
So, now, here he was—surprised and somewhat anxious to realize that the lovely young brunette with the fascinating eyes he’d brushed by at Finnegan’s on Broadway in New York City would show up at the ticket booth at a Florida estate and tourist attraction.
Craig Frasier, one of the main men on the task force Director Egan had formed to trace and track “Dillinger,” aka Nathan Appleby, along the Eastern seaboard, spent a lot of time at Finnegan’s. The new love of his life was co-owner, along with her brothers, of the hundred-and-fifty-year-old pub in downtown Manhattan.
Nick and Kody Cameron had passed briefly, like proverbial ships in the night, but he hadn’t had the least problem recognizing her today. He knew her, because they had both paused to stare at one another at the pub.
Instant attraction? Definitely on his part and he could have sworn on hers, too.
Then she’d muttered some kind of swift apology and Craig’s new girlfriend, who’d come over to greet them, explained, “That’s Kody Cameron. She’s working a living theater piece with my brother. Sounds kind of cool, right? And she’s working here part-time now, making the transition to New York.”
“What’s living theater?” Nick had asked Kieran Finnegan.
“Kevin could tell you better than me,” she had explained, “but it’s taking a show more as a concept than as a structured piece and working with the lines loosely while interacting with the audience as your character.”
Whatever she did, he’d hoped that he’d see her again; he’d even figured that he could. While Kieran Finnegan actually worked as a psychologist and therapist for a pair of psychiatrists who often came in as consultants for the New York office of the Bureau, she was also often at Finnegan’s. And since he was working tightly with Craig and his partner, Mike, and a cyber-force on this case, he’d figured he’d be back in Finnegan’s, too. But then, of course, Dillinger had come south, met up with old prison mates Capone, Nelson, Kelly, Floyd and Schultz, and Nick—who had gone through high school in South Florida and still had family in the area—had been sent down to infiltrate the gang.
The rest, as the saying went, was history.
Now, if Dakota Cameron saw his face, if she gave any indication that she knew him, and knew that he was an FBI man...
They’d both be dead.
And it didn’t help the situation that she was battle ready—ready to lay down her life for her friends.
Then again, there should have been a way for him to stop this. If it hadn’t been for the little boy who had been taken...
He had to find out where the kid was. Had Dillinger stashed him with friends or associates? Had he hidden him somewhere? It wasn’t as hard to hide somewhere here as one would think, with the land being just about at sea level and flat as a pancake. There were enough crack houses and abandoned tenements. Of course, Nick was pretty sure Dillinger couldn’t have snatched the kid at a bus station, hidden him wherever, and made it to the estate at their appointed time, if he had gone far.
But that knowledge didn’t help much.
Nick’s first case when he’d started with the Bureau in the Miami offices had been finding the truth behind the bodies stuffed in barrels, covered with acid and tossed in the Everglades.
He refused to think of that image along with his fear for the child; the boy was alive. Adrian Burke wouldn’t be worth anything in an escape situation if he was dead.
Nick wiped away that thought and leaned against the door frame as he stood guard over Kody. Capone was now just on the other side of the door.
Like the entire estate, the library was kept in pristine shape, but it also held an air of fading and decaying elegance, making one feel a sense of nostalgia. The floors were marble, covered here and there by Persian throw rugs, and built-in bookshelves were filled with volumes that appeared older than the estate itself, along with sea charts and more.
Kody Cameron had a ledger opened before her, but she was looking at him. Quizzically.
It seemed as if she suspected she knew him but couldn’t figure out from where.
“You’re not as crazy as the others,” she said softly. “I can sense that about you. But you need to do something to stop this. That treasure he’s talking about has been missing for years and years. God knows, maybe it’s in the Everglades, swallowed up in a sinkhole. You don’t want to be a part of this—I know you don’t. And those guys are lethal. They’ll hurt someone...kill someone. This is still a death penalty state, you know. Please, if you would just—”
He found himself walking over to her at the desk and replying in a heated whisper, “Just do what he says and find the damned treasure. Lie if you have to! Find something that will make Dillinger believe that you know where the treasure is. Give him a damned map to find it. He won’t think twice about killing people, but he won’t kill just for the hell of it. Don’t give him a reason.”
“You’re not one of them. You have to stop this. Get away from them,” she said.
She was beautiful, earnest, passionate. He wanted to reassure her. To rip off his mask and tell her that law enforcement was on it all.
But that was impossible, lest they all die quickly.
He had to keep his distance and keep her, the kidnapped child and the others in the house alive.
Capone was growing curious. He left his post at the archway and walked in. “Hey. What’s going on here? Don’t interrupt the woman, Barrow. I want to get the hell out of here! I’ve done some wild things with Dillinger, but this is taking the cake. Makes me more nervous than twenty cartel members in a gunboat. Leave her be.”
“Yeah. I’m going to leave her be. And she’s going to come up with something,” Barrow said.
He’d barely spoken when Schultz came rushing in. While Capone knew how to rig a central box and stop cameras and security systems, Schultz was an expert sharpshooter. He was tall and thin, not much in the muscles department, but Nick had seen him take long shots that were just about impossible.
“News is out that we’re here,” he said. “Cops are surrounding the gates. I fired a few warning shots and Dillinger answered the phone—told them we have a pack of hostages. You should see them all out there at the gates,” he added, his grin evident in his voice. “They look like a pack of chickens. Guess they’re calling for a hostage negotiator. Dillinger is deciding whether to give them a live one or a body.”
Kody Cameron stood. “They give him a body and I’m done. If he gives them one body, it won’t make any difference to him if he kills the rest of us.”
“And just how far are you getting, sweet thing?” Schultz asked, coming close to her. He reached out to lift the young woman’s chin.
Nick struggled to control himself. Hell, she wasn’t just a captive. Not just someone he had to keep alive.
She worked for Finnegan’s. She was connected to Kevin Finnegan and Kieran Finnegan—and therefore, to Craig Frasier.
And he noticed her the first time he’d ever seen her. Known that he’d wanted to see her again.
He’d never imagined it could be in this way.
For a moment he managed to keep his peace. But, damn her, she just had to react. Schultz cradled her face and she stepped back and pushed his hand away.
“Hey, hey, hey, little girl. You don’t want to get hurt, do you? Be nice.”
Nick stepped up, swinging Schultz around.
“Leave her alone, dammit. We’re here for a reason.”
“What? Are you sweet on her yourself?” Schultz asked him, his tone edgy. “You think this is merchandise you keep all for yourself?”
“I’m not merchandise!” Kody snapped.
“I want her to find what Dillinger wants, and I want to get the hell out of here!” Nick said. He was as tall as Schultz; he had a lot more muscle and he was well trained. In a fair fight, Schultz wouldn’t stand a chance against him.
There were no fair fights here, he reminded himself. He had to keep an even keel.
“Leave her alone and let her get back to work,” he said. “Get your mind on the job to be done here.”
“Shouldn’t you be up in one of the front towers?” Capone asked Schultz. “Isn’t that your job in all this?”
Schultz gave them all a sweeping and withering glare. Then he turned and left.
Capone was staring at Nick. “Maybe you should get your mind on the job, too, Barrow,” he suggested.
“And you,” Nick added softly.
Capone continued to stare at him.
It went no further as Dillinger came striding into the room. He ignored Capone and Nick and walked straight to the desk and Kody.
“How long?” he asked her.
“How long? You’re asking me to do something no one has managed in decades,” Kody said.
“You’re got two hours,” Dillinger said. “Two hours. They’re bringing in a hostage negotiator. Don’t make me prove that I will kill.”
“I’m doing my best,” Kody said.
“Where’s the phone in this room?” Dillinger asked.
“On the table by the door, next to the Tiffany lamp,” Kody said.
“What the hell is a Tiffany lamp?” Dillinger demanded, leaning in on Kody.
“There. Right there, boss,” Nick said, pointing out the elegant little side table with the lamp and the white trim-line phone. He walked over to it and saw that the volume was off.
“Ready for calls,” he told Dillinger.
“Good. We’ll manage it from here. Capone, get on down and help Nelson with the hostages. Schultz is in the eagle’s seat in the right tower. Floyd’s in the left. And we’ve got our good old boy, our very own private Machine Gun Kelly, in the back. Don’t trust those hostages, though. I’m thinking if we have to get rid of a few, we’ll be in better shape.”
“No, we won’t be,” Nick said flatly. “You hurt a hostage, it tells the cops that they’re not doing any good with negotiation. We have to keep them believing they’re getting everyone back okay. That’s the reason they’ll hold off. If they think we’re just going to kill people, they’ll storm us, figuring to kill us before we kill the hostages. That’s the logic they teach, trust me,” Nick told Dillinger.
Dillinger shrugged, looking at the phone. “Well, we’ll give them a little time, if nothing else. So, Miss Cameron, just how are you doing?”
Dakota Cameron looked up and stared at Dillinger, then cocked her head at an angle. “Looking for a needle in a haystack?” she asked. “I’m moving some hay out of the way, but there’s still a great deal to go. You do realize—”
“Yes, yes,” Dillinger said impatiently. “Yes, everyone has looked for years. But not because their lives were at stake. You’re holding so many precious souls in your hands, Miss Cameron. I’m just so sure that will help you follow every tiny lead to just where the treasure can be found.”
“Well, I’ll try to keep a clear head here,” she said. “At the moment, my mind is not hampered with grief over losing anyone, and you really should keep it that way. I mean, if you want me to find out anything for you.”
Nick wished he could have shut her up somehow; he couldn’t believe she was taunting a man who was half-crazy and holding the lives of so many people in his hands.
He had to admire her bravado—even as he wished she didn’t have it.
But Dillinger laughed softly beneath his mask.
“My dear Miss Cameron, you do have more balls than half the men I find myself working with!” Dillinger told her. “Excellent—if you have results. If you don’t, well, it will just make it all the easier to shut you up!”
She wasn’t even looking at Dillinger anymore. She’d turned her attention back to the journal spread open before her.
“Let me work,” she said softly.
Dillinger grunted. He took a seat in one of the chairs by the wall of the library, near the phone.
Nick walked to the windows, looking out at the gardens in the front of the house, the driveway and—at a distance—the wall and the great iron gates that led up to the house.
More and more cars were beginning to arrive—marked police cars, unmarked cars belonging to the FBI and other law-enforcement agencies.
He wondered how Dillinger could believe he might get out of this alive.
And then he wondered just how the hell any of them were going to get out alive.
The phone began to ring. Dakota Cameron jumped in her chair, nearly leaping from it.
Nick nearly jumped himself.
Dillinger rose and picked up the phone. “Hello? Dillinger here. How can I help you? Other than keeping the hostages alive... Let’s see, how can you help me? Well, I’ll begin to explain. Right now, everyone in the house is breathing. We have some employees, we have some guests... What we want is more time, really good speed boats—cigarettes or Donzis will do. Now, of course, we need a couple because a few of these good people will be going with us for just a bit when we leave. We’ll see to it that you get them all back alive and well as long as we get what we want.”
Nick wished he was on an extension. He wanted to hear what was being said.
He saw Dillinger nod. “How bright of you to ask so quickly! Yes, there is a missing child, too, isn’t there? An important little boy—son of a mayor! Ah, well, all children are important, aren’t they...? Mr. Frasier? Ah! Sorry, Special Agent Frasier. FBI. They’ve brought in the big guns. Let’s go with this—right now, I want time. You give me some time and you arrange for those boats. To be honest, I’m working on a way to give you back that kid I scooped up. Not a bad kid, in the least. I liked him. I’d hate for him to die of neglect, caged and chained and forgotten. So, you work on those boats.”
Nick saw Dakota Cameron frown as she’d heard the name Frasier. Not that Frasier was a rare name, but Kody was good friends with Kevin Finnegan and therefore friends with his sister Kieran—and so she knew Craig. She had to be puzzled, wondering first if he was indeed the same man a friend was dating and, if so, what he was doing in South Florida.
She looked up from her ledger. She was staring at Dillinger hard, brows knit in a frown.
A moment later Dillinger set the receiver back in the cradle. He seemed to be pleased with himself.
“You kidnapped a child?” she asked.
“I like to have a backup plan,” Dillinger said.
“You have all of us.”
“Yes. But, hey, maybe nobody cares about any of you. They will care about a kid.”
“Yep, they will,” Nick interrupted. “But I think they need to believe in us, too. Hey, man, you want time for Miss Cameron to find the treasure, the stash, or whatever might be hidden? If we’re going to buy that time, we need to play to them. I say we give them the security guard. He needs medical attention. Best we get him out of here. An injured hostage is just a liability. Let’s give him up as a measure of good faith.”
“Maybe,” Dillinger said. He looked at Kody. “How are you doing?”
“I’d do a lot better if you didn’t ask me every other minute,” she said. “And,” she added softly, “if I wasn’t so worried about Jose.”
“Who the hell is Jose?” Dillinger asked.
“Our security guard. The injured man,” Kody said.
Dillinger glanced restlessly at his watch and then at the phone. “Give them a few minutes to get back to me.”
He walked out of the room, leaving Nick alone with Kody.
“How are you doing?” he asked her.
She shrugged and then looked up at him. “So far, I have all the same information everyone has had for years. Anthony Green robbed the bank, but the police couldn’t pin it on him, couldn’t make an arrest. He wrote in his own journal that it was great watching them all run around like chickens with no heads. Of course, it wouldn’t be easy for anyone to find the stash. What it seems to me—from what I’ve read—is that he did plan on disappearing. Leaving the country. And he was talking about boats, as well—”
She broke off, staring at the old journal she was reading and then flipping pages over.
“What is it?” Nick asked.
She looked up at him, her expression suddenly guarded. He realized that—to her—he was a death-dealing criminal.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I need time.”
“You’ve got time right now. Use it,” he said.
“We need to see some of the hostages out of here—returned to safety,” she said firmly. “In good faith!”
They were both startled by the sound of a gunshot. Then a barrage of bullets seemed to come hailing down on the house.
A priceless vase on a table exploded.
Nick practically flew across the room, leaping over the desk to land on top of Kody—and bring her down to the floor.
The barrage of bullets continued for a moment—and then went silent.
He felt her move beneath him.
He looked down at her. Her eyes were wide on his as she studied him gravely. He hadn’t just been intrigued, he realized. He hadn’t just wanted to see her again.
He’d been attracted to her. Really attracted.
And now...
She was trembling slightly.
He leaped to his feet, drawing her up, pulling her along with him as he raced down the hall to the stairs that led to the right tower where Schultz had been keeping guard.
Nick was pretty damned certain Schultz—a man who was crazy and more than a little trigger happy—had fired the first shots.
“What the hell are you doing?” he shouted.
As he did so, Dillinger came rushing along, as well. “What the hell?” he demanded furiously.
“I saw ’em moving, boss. I saw ’em moving!” Schultz shouted down.
The phone started ringing. Nick looked at Dillinger. “Let me take it. Let me see what I can do,” he said.
Dillinger was already moving back toward the library. Nick followed, still clasping Kody’s hand.
When they reached the library, Dillinger stepped back and let Nick answer the phone.
“Hello?” Nick said. “This is Barrow speaking now. We don’t know what happened. We do know that you responded with the kind of violence that’s going to get someone killed. Seriously, do you want everyone in here dead? What the hell was that?”
“Shots were fired at us,” a voice said. “Who is this?”
“I told you. Barrow.”
“Are you the head man?”
Nick glanced over at Dillinger.
“No. I’m spokesman for the head man. He’s all into negotiation. What we want doesn’t have anything to do with a bunch of dead men and women, but that’s what we could wind up with if we don’t get this going right,” Nick said.
“We don’t want dead people,” the voice on the other end assured him.
“We don’t, either,” Nick said.
“Barrow. All right, let’s talk. I think everyone got a little panicky. No one wants anyone to die here today. We’re all working in the same direction, that being to see that everyone gets out alive. Okay?”
Nick knew who was doing the negotiating for the array of cops and FBI and law enforcement just on the other side of the gates.
He was speaking with Craig Frasier. Nick was glad the FBI and the local authorities had gotten it together to make the situation go smoothly. He knew Craig; Craig knew him. There was so much more he was going to be able to do with Craig at the other end.
“How are they doing on my boats?” Dillinger asked, staring at Nick.
“We’re going to need those boats,” Nick said. He needed to give Craig all the information he could about the situation, without making Dillinger suspicious, and he wanted, also, to maintain his position as spokesman for Dillinger.
“Yes, two boats, right?” Craig asked.
“Good ones. The best speedboats you can get your hands on. Now, we’re not fools. You won’t get all the information you need to save everyone until we’re long gone and safe. But, right now, we’re going to give you a man. Security guard. He’s got a bit of a gash on his head. We’re going to bring him out to the front and we’ll see that the gate is opened long enough for one of you to get him out. Do you understand? The fate of everyone here may depend on this nice gesture on our part going well.”
He knew that Craig understood; Nick had really just told him the guard had been the only one injured and that he did need help.
“No one else is hurt? Everyone is fine?”
Craig had to ask to keep their cover. But Nick knew the agent was also concerned for Dakota Cameron. That the Cameron family owned this place—and that Kody was down here—was something Craig must have realized from the moment Dillinger made his move.
“No one is hurt. I’m trying to keep it that way,” Nick assured him, glancing over at Dillinger.
Dillinger nodded. He seemed to approve of how Nick handled the negotiations. There was enough of a low-lying threat in Nick’s tone to make it all sound very menacing, no matter what the words.
“That’s good. Open the gate and we’ll get the man. There will be no attempts to break in on you, no more bullets fired,” Craig said.
Nick looked at Dillinger. Yes? he mouthed.
Dillinger nodded. “Keep an eye on her!”
As he hurried out, Kody stood and started after him, then paused herself, as if certain Nick would have stopped her if she hadn’t. He held the phone and stared at her, wishing he dared tell her who he was and what his part was in all this.
But he couldn’t.
He couldn’t risk her betraying him.
He covered the mouthpiece on the house phone. “Don’t leave the room.”
“Jose Marquez...” she murmured.
“He’s really letting him go,” Nick said.
She walked over to him suddenly. He was afraid she was going to reach for the mask that covered his face.
She didn’t touch him. Instead she spoke quickly. “You’re not like that. You could stop this. You have a gun. You could—”
“Shoot them all down?” he asked her.
“Wound them, stop this—stop them from killing innocent people. I’d speak for you. I’d see that everyone in court knew that people survived because of you.”
She was moving closer as she spoke—not to touch him, he realized, but to take his gun.
He set the phone down and grabbed her roughly by the wrists.
“Don’t pull this on anyone else. Haven’t you really grasped this yet? They’re trigger happy and crazy. Just do as they say. Just find that damned stash!”
Something in her jaw seemed to be working. She looked away from him.
“You found it already?” he said incredulously. “You have, haven’t you? But that’s impossible so fast!”
She didn’t confirm or deny; she gave no answer. He heard a crackle on the phone line and put it back to his ear. As he did so, he looked out the windows.
Dillinger, wielding a semiautomatic, was leading out two hostages carrying Jose Marquez. They brought him close to the gate, Dillinger keeping his weapon trained on them the entire time.
They left Jose and walked back into the house.
Dillinger followed them.
A second later the gate opened. Police rushed in and scooped up the security guard. They hurried out with him.
The gates closed and locked.
“Barrow! Barrow? Hey, you there?”
“Yes,” Nick replied into the phone.
“We have the security guard. We’ll get him to the hospital. What about the others? Do they need food, water?”
Kody was staring at him. He heard footsteps pounding up the stairs, as well.
Dillinger was back.
“Sit!” he told Kody. “Figure out what we need to do in order to get our hands on that stash.”
To his surprise, she sat. She sat—and had the journal up in her hands before Dillinger returned to the room.
“Well?” Dillinger said to Nick.
Nick spoke into the phone. “We’ve given you the hostage in good faith. We really would like to see that all these good folks live, but, hey, they call bad guys bad guys because...they’re bad. So back away from the gates and start making things happen. What about our boats?”
“I swear, we’re getting you the best boats,” Craig said.
“I want them now,” Dillinger said.
“We need you to supply those boats now,” Nick said, nodding to Dillinger and repeating his demand over the phone. “We need them out back, by the docks, and then we need you and your people to be far, far away.”
“The boats will be there soon,” Craig told Nick.
“Soon? Make that six or seven minutes at most!” he said.
He hoped Craig picked up on the clue. Stressing the word told him there were seven in this merry band of thieves.
“Don’t push it too far!” Nick added. “Maybe we’ll give you to ten or eleven minutes to get it together, but...well, you don’t want hostages to start dying, do you?”
Easy enough. That told him there were eleven hostages, including Dakota Cameron, being held.
Dillinger looked at Nick and nodded, satisfied.
“We’ve got one of the boats,” Craig said. “How do I get my man to bring it around and not get killed or become a hostage himself?” he asked.
“One boat?”
“So far. Getting our hands on what you want isn’t easy,” Craig said. “If we give you that one boat, what do we get?”
“You just got a man.”
“We could find a second boat more quickly if we had a second man—or woman,” Craig said.
They had to be careful; the negotiator’s voice carried on the land line.
Of course, Craig Frasier knew that. He would be careful, but Nick knew that he had to be more so. Dakota could hear Craig, as well.
“Please,” she said softly, “give them Stacey Carlson and Nan Masters. They’re older. They’ll just be like bricks around your neck when you need hostages for cover. Please, let them leave.”
“Please,” Dillinger said, mimicking her plea, “find what I want to know!”
“I might have,” Kody said very softly.
“You might have?”
“Give the cops two more hostages. Give them Stacey and Nan,” she said. “I’ll show you what I think I’ve figured out once you’ve done that. Please.”
Dillinger looked at Nick. “Hey, the lady said please. Let’s accommodate her. Get on the phone and tell them to get the hell away from the gate. We’ll give them two more solid, stand-up citizens.” His eyes narrowed. “But I want my boats. Two boats. And I want them now. No ten minutes. No eleven minutes. I want them now!”
He looked at Kody. She was staring gravely at him.
“We have a present for you,” he told Craig over the phone. “Two more hostages. Only we want two boats. Now. We want them right now.”
“And if we don’t get those boats soon...” Dillinger murmured.
He looked over at Kody.
And his eyes seemed to smile.
