Читать книгу The Negotiator - Kay David - Страница 10

BECK’S GUT TIGHTENED. “Damn! Is he dead?”

“He’s hanging on but barely.”

“Has anyone talked to him?”

“No. He was completely out of it and fading fast. The medics were struggling just to get him to Central before it was too late.”

His gaze went to the school, his mind going with it to the woman and children inside. Did Jennifer Barclay know? He answered his own question. Obviously not. She wouldn’t be defending Howard French if she knew he’d shot his boss. Would she?

“Get him to the window.” Randy spoke bluntly. “It’s at the front, away from the kids. If he’s looking for the truck, I can get a clean shot.”

“And that’s it? The decision’s made?”

Lena answered. “We’re setting the shot, Beck, that’s all. I haven’t given Randy the green light.”

“All right.” Beck’s words were clipped. “But I think this is premature. I think you’re making a mistake, both of you.”

“I have to think of the team, Beck. The guys are getting tired and that means they’re going to get sloppy and let their guard down. I can’t risk a breakout, either. If he starts shooting…”

“I know the drill, Lena, but those kids in there are nine and ten years old. Do you want them living with the sight of a man’s brains getting blown out for the rest of their lives?”

“I want them to live, Beck. That’s my only concern and it ought to be yours, too.”

“But—”

“If you have a problem with this, we’ll discuss it later.” She interrupted him, ending the argument sharply. “Right now, act like a team member and do your job. Get the man to the window. When the time comes, I’ll decide if we shoot or not.”

THE CHILDREN were getting restless.

Jennifer had done her best to keep them corralled—without much help from Betty—but they couldn’t be expected to huddle in one corner forever. Howard had let them use the bathroom attached to the classroom, but other than that, they hadn’t really moved. She glanced down at her watch and was shocked to see the time. It was past eight!

The drinks had helped. A dozen cans had been left outside the classroom. Howard had made Juan retrieve them, then report back to him. Were there police in the hallway? No? Was he sure?

It was hot, too, and that didn’t help. The air-conditioning had shut down hours ago. It was on an automatic timer, but Jennifer suspected it’d been purposely shut down early. She pushed a sticky strand of hair off her forehead and glanced toward Howard. He was standing by the door. Obviously growing weary, his expression was one of pure dejection, his shoulders slumped, his face shadowed. The gun had never left his side, and she’d given up the idea of grabbing it. It was just too risky.

They’d talked on and off, but he’d refused to say much more than “It’s too late.” When she’d pressed him, he’d simply shaken his head, and she’d finally moved to the rear of the room to be near the children. Trying to reassure them, she’d sat down and waited for the phone to ring again.

When it did, though, what would happen? They weren’t really going to give Howard his truck…or get his job back for him. He wasn’t going to just drive away from the school and off into the sunset. Surely, he understood that.

The phone sounded shrilly, startling her even though she’d expected it. Jennifer looked at Howard and he gave her an almost perceptible nod. She jumped up and ran to the front of the room to grab the receiver. “Hello?”

He answered as he did each time he’d called. “Everyone okay in there?”

Jennifer closed her eyes briefly and leaned against the wall. “We’re all right,” she said. “But getting tired.”

“I understand. It’s a tough situation, but you’re doing a terrific job keeping everyone together.” His voice turned lighter. “How ’bout coming to work for us when this is over? I could get you a negotiator’s job. Sound good?”

Jennifer shuddered. “No, thank you. That’s way more excitement than I want. Ever.”

“It’s not all that thrilling. Mainly I sit here, then I talk but no one really listens, and when it’s finally settled, I do paperwork. The next day, we do it all over again.”

“Sounds like my job.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it does at that. You like being a teacher?”

“I love it,” she answered, surprised by his question. It seemed like a strange time to be talking like this, but it made sense in a weird kind of way. He was trying to keep her relaxed. “The kids are fantastic and I feel as if I’m doing something worthwhile. Most days, that is.”

“You are doing something worthwhile—all the time—but especially right now. You’re holding this thing together, Jennifer, and you really are doing a great job.”

For just a second, she almost felt she was somewhere else, in a different time and place. The warmth of his praise eased her fear. “Thanks.”

His raspy voice went serious. “So now…you have to help me some more. The truck’s finally on the way. Put Howard on the phone so I can tell him.”

“I’ll try.”

Jennifer turned and looked in Howard’s direction. He was staring into the distance, his mind obviously not in the present. “Howard?” she asked gently. “Howard? Please come talk to the officer.”

He didn’t respond at all. She rested the phone’s receiver on a shelf and walked to where he stood. Her stomach in knots, she ignored her fright and spoke firmly, as if talking to one of the children. “Howard, you need to come talk to Officer Winters. He’s on the phone and he has something to tell you.”

“You tell me.”

“No. You need to hear this yourself.”

To her total surprise, he nodded once, then lumbered across the room and picked up the phone. She hurried behind him. He held the receiver to his ear but didn’t say anything.

A moment later, he turned and handed her the phone.

Jennifer spoke. “Yes?”

“I told him the truck’s on the way. In the meantime, you’re going to have to do something else, too.”

“What?”

Instead of answering, he waited a moment, the seconds ticking by almost audibly. Once again, Jennifer found herself imaging the man behind the voice. His words carried the same timbre of authority her father’s always had—academies taught you how to do that, she suspected, military or police, it made no difference—but absent from Beck Winters’s tones was the overlay of cruelty her father’s voice had always possessed. Winters had children of his own, she decided, and was a good father. Patient. Kind. Loving. Emotions and actions that had been empty words to her father. With a start, she realized she was connecting with Beck Winters, this stranger, on a level she seldom did with men.

“You have to get him to stand by the window. I won’t bring the truck down the street until that point.”

She felt a flicker of unease. “Why?”

“Because that’s how we do things. These are negotiations, and he gets nothing for free. When he sees the truck, then he has to talk to me and release another child. You’ve got to get him to do this.”

Her mouth went dry. “I understand but…”

Beck’s voice dropped, and she felt as if he were standing right beside her, his warm eyes on hers. “Jennifer…how else can he see the truck? This is the only way.”

Her chest eased a tad and she took a deep breath. He was right, of course.

“It’s going to be fine, Jennifer. He trusts you, and I know you can get him to that window. Once he’s there, then…then we’ll start to talk and I can influence him.” He fell silent. “I have to be able to talk directly to this guy, Jennifer. The most dangerous hostage takers are the ones who won’t talk to me. If I can’t get some kind of conversation going with him, this is going to end badly. I can almost guarantee that, especially with Howard’s history.”

“His history? What do you mean? He’s never done anything like this before.”

The officer answered quickly. “He’s male, he’s urban, he has below average intelligence. These are people who turn to violence as an answer. It’s not the boss at the steel plant, it’s not the manager at the oil company. It’s the worker, Jennifer. The poor slob at the bottom who has no control over his life.” He paused. “He has nothing to lose. He thinks it’s hopeless anyway.”

“I understand how you could read it that way, but you don’t know him the way I do—”

“And you don’t know everything I know.” He bit off the words, as if he’d said more than he’d planned. “Just help me out, okay? Are the kids still at the back of the room?”

“Yes.”

“It’s imperative you keep them back there. I’ll bring the truck down the street as soon as I see Howard at the window. You just get him over there.”

“Okay.”

She started to hang up, but before she could put the receiver down, she heard his voice say her name. She brought the phone back to her ear. “Yes?”

Static rippled over the line, faint and barely discernable. The noise made her wonder if they were being recorded. “Be careful, Jennifer. Just…be careful.”

She started to answer, then realized he was gone. Hanging up the phone, she looked over at Howard and said a silent prayer.

BECK WIPED HIS FACE and looked over at Lena. “Is the truck here yet?”

“There’s a traffic tie-up on Highway 98. One Q-Tip rammed another. Surprise, surprise. The road’s blocked in both directions, but Dispatch said they’d have it moving in just a few minutes. It should get here anytime.”

Beck shook his head. Everyone on the force called the older local residents “Q-Tips” because they all had white hair and wore tennis shoes to match. Florida had its share of elderly drivers, but Beck wasn’t sure they were any worse than the tourists who drank too much then got on the road. At least the older people drove slowly.

Lena ducked her head toward the building. “How are they doing? The teacher holding up?”

“She’s the only reason there hasn’t been gunfire yet. She’s keeping French appeased and the kids quiet.”

He stared out the window of the motor home into the dusk. They’d cut the electricity to the school and the building had fallen into darkness as soon as the summer sun had dipped behind them, rimming the school in gold. Occasionally he saw the beam of a flashlight near the rear of the room. Beck wasn’t surprised to see the teacher was prepared. Classrooms were supposed to have emergency supplies in case of hurricanes, but people forgot, and batteries went bad. Not in Miss Barclay’s class, though. He’d bet money she had the correct number of bandages and aspirin as well.

Lena sank into a chair by his side, her fingers going to the shuffle of papers beside the phone. She picked out Jennifer’s photo, studying it intently. Without looking at him, she spoke. “She’s pretty.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

Lena’s head came up. “Right.”

He flicked his eyes toward the picture, but immediately returned his gaze to the school. He didn’t need the fuzzy image anymore—Jennifer’s face was planted firmly in his brain. Too firmly, in fact. It’d be a while before he was able to get those brown eyes out of his mind, no matter how this all ended. They sat without talking for a few minutes, then Lena spoke once more. “Did you tell her to get him to the window?”

“Yeah.”

“What’d she say?”

He turned and looked at her. “I didn’t explain why—”

“Of course not.”

He turned back. “She’ll do it.”

Lena leaned forward and put her hand on his arm. “Beck, listen. I know you don’t agree, but we can’t let this go on forever—”

Lena had taken off her headset and had been using a radio. It came to life with garbled speech. She pushed the button on the side and barked, “What is it?”

“The truck’s here.” Lincoln Hood, one of the entry men, spoke, the noise of the crowd behind him filtering into the radio’s microphone along with his voice. “I’m switching places with the driver right now, then I’ll bring it down the street when you’re ready.”

“Go slow, Linc,” Tamirisa said immediately. “Less than five miles an hour, okay?”

“No problem.”

Beck resisted looking at Lena. She stood and paced the tiny aisle. “Listen, Randy—French is going to be facing the window, looking down the street. Are you sure it’s going to be a cold shot? If it isn’t, I don’t want you taking it. Not with those kids in there.”

When he’d been younger and gung ho, the euphemisms had meant something to Beck. They’d made him feel as if he were part of a secret club that ordinary cops didn’t belong to; now the words made him feel tired and old. Why didn’t she just say what she meant?

Can you kill the guy with one shot?

“It’ll be so cold, you’ll freeze.” Randy’s cocky answer spilled into the room with arrogance. “Hear that, Officer Winters?”

“That’s enough. I’m not giving you the green light yet,” she snapped. “The man’s promised Beck he’ll talk so let’s see how it goes down first.” She turned and motioned for Beck to pick up the phone. “Beck’s calling now to get him in place. On my word, Linc, you go. If necessary, if necessary, I’ll give you the code, Randy, otherwise, standard ops are in effect. Heads up, everyone. This is it.”

JENNIFER JUMPED when the phone rang. She grabbed the receiver. “Yes?”

“Everyone okay?”

“We’re fine.”

“Then it’s time. We’ve got the truck and we’re bringing it down the street. You need to get Howard to the window.”

Although it was just as calm and reassuring as always, his voice sounded different. The tension was getting to him, too, Jennifer thought. How could he do this day after day? What kind of man would want this crazy life?

“All right,” she said. “We’re going right now—”

“Not you!” Beck’s voice went up, then he spoke again, in a more reasonable tone. “That’s not necessary. Use this time to calm the children. Go back to where they are and wait there.”

The suggestion seemed perfectly reasonable.

“Okay,” she answered.

“Let me talk to him first.”

Holding the receiver at her side, she turned to Howard. He was standing right beside her, the rifle cradled in his arms, crossed before his chest. “They want you at the window, Howard. Your truck is here. But Officer Winters needs to talk to you first.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not going,” he mumbled. “Won’t talk.”

“Howard…” She put a warning in her voice, and the students at the back of the room lifted their heads as one. They knew that tone. “You asked for your truck,” she said. “And it’s here now. You have to be reasonable about this, or Officer Winters isn’t going to help you.” She held the receiver out to him. “Talk to him. He wants to help you.”

“No.”

She found patience from somewhere deep inside her. “Why not?”

“Don’t want to.”

“All right, then. Forget talking to him. Just go to the window and look out. Right now. No more messing around.”

He glanced at her, but there was no other warning.

He simply grabbed her and she screamed without thinking. From the back of the room, one of the children cried out. Jennifer dropped the phone. Then Howard dragged her roughly toward the window.

“OH, SHIT!”

“Jennifer!”

“What’s going on?” Beck spoke again, overriding Randy’s curse. “Randy? Can you see them?”

“He’s heading to the window, but…I’m not sure…wait, wait a minute…he’s coming to the window. Goddammit—”

Beck leapt from his desk and peered out into the night. It was completely dark now and the outline of the window was nothing more than a square of blackness. He fumbled for the night vision binoculars that had been sitting on the desk but Lena had already grabbed them and brought them to her eyes. “Tamirisa? What’s going on? Can you see?”

“He’s coming to the window and he’s got the teacher with him. Oh, man…I don’t frigging believe this!”

“What? What is it?”

“A kid…a little boy…he’s just run up to both of them—” His voice turned deep. “Don’t do it, you son of a bitch, don’t do it—” Randy’s voice broke off abruptly.

Beck yanked the binoculars out of Lena’s hands but before he could even focus, the horrible sound of glass shattering split the humid night air. A second later, a scream followed, the kind of scream he knew would be replayed in his dreams for months to come. When it stopped, Beck heard nothing beyond the beating of his heart.

Another second passed, then that stopped, too.