“So,” he concluded, when Rani Desai didn’t answer, “easily affordable, easily doable, and some good causes benefit. Complying seems better than a firefight, and a live congregation seems better than a dead one. Doesn’t it?”
“If we comply, you won’t harm anyone?”
“If you comply, of course we won’t. Who do you think we are, Black Dawn?”
She didn’t answer.
“Come on, I need to know.”
“No, I don’t think you’re Black Dawn.”
“I mean, I need to know if you’ll comply.”
“Yes, we will.”
“Good. Now, before we get to the details of our demands, there are some administrative matters I need to take you through.
“First, we all have a military background. The explosive devices rigged at each door and window aren’t homemade, they’re of military origin. We have other devices, also of military origin, to detect attempts to enter through the walls, floor, or ceiling. They’ll trigger the explosives, as will any attempt to enter or exit through the doors or windows. The explosives will probably kill everyone here and damage the Cathedral irreparably.
“Second, we know you’ll be deploying people around the Cathedral. I would; it’s only reasonable. But when you deploy them, and when you give them their orders, remember what I’ve said. Only eleven million euros, and it’ll be over by tomorrow morning, and then we’ll surrender.”
“You’ll surrender?” she sounded genuinely surprised.
“Yes, surrender...Why, what’s wrong?”
“Why not give us your whole list now, all eleven? Why do it one at a time? I’ve already said we’ll pay.”
“No. This is how we want it.”
Taber, who’d been listening carefully, knew then that they wouldn’t surrender. He suspected also that there was something different about number eleven.
“Eleven. One at a time,” Jones went on, “an hour for each, and we should be through by early tomorrow morning, and fifty-seven people—Dean Taber, the choir and congregation— will be free to go.”
“What if one takes more than an hour?”
“Then fifty-six people will be free to go. An hour’s a reasonable time. It’s not exactly complicated.” Jones paused, as if he felt the need to soften what he’d said. He did seem out of his depth. “If there’s some genuine reason why you can’t do it, we have a reserve list. So, Number One: Cancer Research UK. Time now is 10:17 p.m. You have one hour.”
“I’ll call you back,” said Rani Desai.
The charities will probably reflect what they’re suffering from, Taber thought. Cancer. And maybe heart conditions. Or neurological diseases. He’d know them one at a time, through the night. It was a line of investigation Rani Desai would be pursuing, and hardly a difficult one.
Within thirty minutes, VSTOLs were hovering outside the Cathedral (though not as silently as the UN’s would have hovered). College Yard and Boley Hill were lit up. There was the sound of boots on cobblestones. Muffled shouts from the lawns, under the spreading trees. Jones, true to his word, did not appear surprised or angry.
Cancer Research UK took a little longer than expected— the CEO was not at the address, or with the partner, that Rani Desai’s staff had been told—but it was still completed inside the hour. Rani Desai obtained his acceptance, made the electronic transfer, and sent Jones’ wristcom the bank screen showing the transaction.
“Good,” said Jones. “One down, ten to go. Number Two is the British Heart Foundation. It’s now...11:05 p.m. You have one hour.”
The explosives and sensors were set. The congregation, perhaps because of Jones’ manner and how smoothly the operation promised to go, were a little more relaxed. Even the sound of boots and muffled shouts from outside had dwindled slightly.
A few minutes later, Jones started stealing glances at Taber. Taber was initially too polite to mention it—especially as he wasn’t the one with the gun—but after a while he turned to Jones and asked, “Can I help you with anything?”
“No, but you can tell me something.”
Unconsciously—he never used his famous charm cynically—Taber put on his I’m Listening face. “If I can. What is it?”
“Your faith.” Jones hefted his rifle angrily. “I’ve never had a faith, either before or after I was diagnosed. Why do you?”
“The answer’s in the question. It’s my faith. It’s what I believe.”
Jones snorted derisively and was about to turn away without replying, but something in the way Taber returned his gaze—maybe the charm was starting to work—made him respond. “Alright, so it’s what you believe. So does God give you certainty?”
Surprisingly, Taber laughed out loud. “That’s the last thing God gives me. God shows me some wonderful unexpectedness.” Despite the tension, some members of the congregation rolled their eyes. They’d heard this one before.
But Jones hadn’t. “Unexpectedness?”
“Yes, unexpectedness. Let me tell you a story...”
“A true story?”
“Not yet. This is set in the distant future. Humanity has at last found the actual, physical location of God. It is at the edge of the known universe, billions of light-years away. No human could survive the journey, so they send a robotic probe. Even with faster-than-light travel, the journey takes years, and tension mounts over the centuries: What will the probe find? Eventually it completes the journey, and its robot voice calls back, from the edge of the universe, telling them that it has found God. That it now knows God’s nature and identity.
“And do you know what it said, in answer to all their questions? She’s black. And an atheist.”
Some of the congregation, the minority who hadn’t heard it before, laughed. So did Jones and a couple of his colleagues.
Taber decided to leave it there for now. A small bit of rapport gained, but better not to overdo it.
The British Heart Foundation was more difficult. The CEO refused to take individual responsibility for the money, and insisted on contacting Board members, despite Rani Desai muttering darkly about having a heart attack herself. Eventually the necessary acceptances were obtained, and still within an hour, though the process had threatened to overrun. Rani Desai made the electronic transfer, and sent Jones’ wristcom the screen showing the transaction.
“Good,” said Jones. “You see, that’s why we need a generous time allowance. Things like this are bound to happen...
And we didn’t look like we were going to start shooting hostages, did we?”
“No.” She wanted to point out that there was no question of shooting anyway, as the hour hadn’t been exceeded, but felt it was best to let him have that one. She didn’t think he’d react irrationally if provoked, but she wasn’t sure.
“And you’ll remember what I said about those people outside, won’t you?”
“Yes. As long as the hostages are unharmed.”
“Then I think we have a reasonable working arrangement. Now...two down, nine to go. Number Three is the Multiple Sclerosis Research Trust. It’s now...ah, nearly midnight: 11:57 p.m. You have one hour.”
“Turn yourself in,” Taber said suddenly to Jones, a couple of minutes later.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“If you won’t turn yourself in, turn yourself into someone else. Do this some other way. Don’t threaten innocent people.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Why not tell them all the eleven on your list now?”
“Because we’re the ones with the guns, and this is how we want to do it.”