“The hostage taker claimed, during her call to the radio station, that she was holding six people. I’ve since heard from sources that the number is probably correct. Three hospital employees, a doctor, and two patients. We’re trying to get their names now…”
Gabriel went rigid in his chair, staring in rage at the TV. At the woman who was so eager to reveal Jane’s identity. Who could unwittingly condemn her to death.
“… as you can see, over my shoulder, there’s a lot of yelling going on. A lot of rising tempers in this heat. Another station’s cameraman just got shoved to the ground when he tried to get too close to the perimeter. One unauthorized person has already slipped through, and the police aren’t about to let it happen again. But it’s like shutting the barn door after the horse gets out. Or, in this case, gets in.”
“Any idea who this Rambo is?”
“As I said, no one’s talking. But we’ve heard reports that the police are checking out an illegally parked car about two blocks away from here.”
“They think it’s Rambo’s car?”
“Apparently. A witness saw this man leaving the car. I guess even Rambo needs transportation.”
“But what’s his motive?”
“You have to consider two possibilities. One, that the man’s trying to be a hero. Maybe he knows one of the hostages, and he’s launching his own rescue operation.”
“And the second possibility?”
“The second possibility is scary. That this man is a reinforcement. He’s come to join the hostage taker.”
Gabriel rocked back in his chair, stunned by what had suddenly become obvious to him. “That’s what it meant,” he said softly. “The die is cast.”
Abe swiveled around to face him. “It meant something?”
Gabriel shot to his feet. “I need to see Captain Hayder.”
“It’s an activation code,” said Gabriel. “Jane Doe called that radio station to broadcast the phrase. To get it out to the public.”
“An activation code for what?” asked Hayder.
“A call to arms. Reinforcements.”
Hayder snorted. “Why didn’t she just say, Help me out here, guys? Why use a code?”
“You weren’t prepared, were you? None of you were.” Gabriel looked at Stillman, whose face was gleaming with sweat in that oven of a trailer. “That man walked right through your perimeter, carrying in a knapsack with god-knows-what weapons. You weren’t ready for him because you never expected a gunman to walk into the building.”
“We know it’s always a possibility,” said Stillman. “That’s the reason we set up perimeters.”
“Then how did this man get through?”
“Because he knew exactly how to do it. His clothing, his gear. This was well thought out, Agent Dean. That man was ready.”
“And Boston PD wasn’t. That’s why they used a code. To take you by surprise.”
Hayder stared in frustration out the open doorway of the command trailer. Though they’d brought in two oscillating fans, and the street had now fallen into the shadow of late afternoon, it was still unbearably hot in the vehicle. Outside, on Albany Street, cops stood red-faced and sweating, and reporters were retreating back into their air-conditioned news vans. Everyone was waiting for something to happen. The calm before the next storm.
“It does start to make sense,” said Stillman. The negotiator had been listening to Gabriel’s points with a deepening frown. “Consider the sequence of events. Jane Doe refuses to negotiate with me. She won’t even talk to me. That’s because she’s not ready-she needs her back covered, first. She needs to strengthen her position. She calls the radio station and they broadcast the activation code. Five hours later, that man with the knapsack arrives. He shows up because he was summoned.”
“And he blithely walks into a suicide mission?” said Hayder. “Does anyone have friends who are that loyal?”
“A marine will lay down his life for his company,” said Gabriel.
“Band of brothers? Yeah, sure.”
“I take it you’ve never served.”
Hayder flushed an even deeper red in the heat. “Are you saying this is some sort of military operation? Then what’s the next step? If this is so logical, tell us what’s next on their agenda.”
“Negotiations,” said Gabriel. “The takers have now cemented their position. I think you’re going to be hearing from them soon.”
A new voice cut in, “Reasonable prediction, Agent Dean. You’re probably right.”
They all turned to look at the stocky man who had just stepped into the trailer. As usual, Agent John Barsanti wore a silk tie and a button-down shirt; as usual, his clothes did not fit well. He responded to Gabriel’s look of surprised recognition with a sober nod of greeting. “I’m sorry about Jane,” he said. “They told me you were involved in this mess.”
“No one told me you were, John.”
“We’re just monitoring developments. Ready to assist if we need to.”
“Why send someone all the way from Washington? Why not use the Boston field office?”
“Because this will likely go into negotiations. It made sense to send someone with experience.”
The two men regarded each other for a moment in silence. Experience, thought Gabriel, couldn’t be the only reason John Barsanti had turned up. The FBI would not normally send a man straight from the deputy director’s office to supervise a local hostage negotiation.
“Then who’s in charge of the deal making?” Gabriel asked. “The FBI? Or Boston PD?”
“Captain Hayder!” called Emerton. “We’ve got a call coming in from the hospital! It’s on one of their lines!”
“They’re ready to negotiate,” said Gabriel. Just as he’d predicted.
Stillman and Barsanti looked at each other. “You take it, Lieutenant,” said Barsanti. Stillman nodded, and crossed to the phone.
“I’ve got you on speaker,” said Emerton.
Stillman took a deep breath, then pressed the connect button. “Hello,” he said calmly. “This is Leroy Stillman.”
A man answered, just as calm. A reedy voice, with a hint of a southern drawl. “You’re a policeman?”
“Yes. I’m Lieutenant Stillman, Boston PD. Who am I speaking to?”
“You already know my name.”
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Why don’t you ask the FBI guy. There is an FBI guy, isn’t there? Standing in that trailer with you?”
Stillman glanced over at Barsanti with a look of how the hell does he know? “I’m sorry, sir,” said Stillman. “I really don’t know your name, and I’d like to know who I’m speaking to.”
“Joe.”
“Right. Joe.” Stillman released a breath. So far, so good. At least they had a name.
“How many people are in that trailer with you, Leroy?”
“Let’s talk about you, Joe-”
“The FBI is there, though. Am I right?”
Stillman said nothing.
Joe laughed. “I knew they’d show up. FBI, CIA, Defense Intelligence, Pentagon. Yeah, they all know who I am.”
Gabriel could read the expression on Stillman’s face. We’re dealing with a man who clearly has delusions of persecution.
“Joe,” said Stillman, “there’s no reason to draw this out any longer. Why don’t we talk about ending it quietly?”
“We want a TV camera in here. A live feed to the media. We have a statement to make, and a videotape to show you.”
“Slow down. Let’s get to know each other first.”
“I don’t want to know you. Send in a TV camera.”
“That’s going to present a problem. I need to clear this through a higher level.”
“They’re standing right there, aren’t they? Why don’t you turn around and ask them, Leroy? Ask that higher level to get the ball rolling.”
Stillman paused. Joe understood exactly what was going on. He finally said, “We can’t authorize a live media feed.”
“No matter what I offer you in exchange?”