Joseph Finder - Power Play

"You know what the definition of a coward is?" he said. "A coward is a hero with a wife, kids, and a mortgage."

"So maybe that's it," I said. "No wife, no kids. And I don't have a mortgage. I rent."

There was a noise at the far side of the room. Wayne, the crewcut one, entered with Peter the handyman, a small, pudgy man with a bushy gray mustache, receding gray hair, and thick aviator-frame glasses. He was sweating profusely.

Wayne whispered to the other guards for a few minutes, then led the handyman to the back right corner of the room.

A minute or so later, Russell and his brother entered, John Danziger in front of them.

Danziger looked terrified.

Russell cleared his throat. "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen," he announced. "We have a little business to transact." He unholstered his Glock.

"Some of you guys apparently think you're gonna be clever," Russell said. "Try to throw a little sand in the gears. Try to screw things up for everyone else. Like I'm not going to find out." As he was talking, he popped out the Glock's magazine and held it up, scanned it to see if it was full. It seemed a strange thing to do. He must have known the gun was loaded. "Didn't some guy say that we all gotta hang together or we'll hang separately? Like, George Washington or one of those guys?"

"I believe that was actually Benjamin Franklin," Hugo Lummis said.

Russell looked at Lummis blankly for a moment. "Why, thank you, Hugo." He nodded. "Not many of you got the balls to correct a man with a loaded gun."

"I'm not correcting you," Lummis said hastily. "I'm just-"

"Quite all right, Hugo," Russell said. "I like learning stuff. Not everyone does, though. People get ideas stuck in their heads. That's why you're all gonna have a little lesson right now. A seminar. Shouldn't take too long, though." He seated the magazine back in the butt of the pistol with a quiet click.

"John," he said gently, "could you please kneel right here? Yes, that's right. Right there. Not on the rug-on the wood. That's good."

"Please, don't," Danziger said. He knelt, his eyes darting around the room, his face frozen.

"Now, John," Russell said, "you and I are going to give all your colleagues here a lesson they're never going to forget. See, the best lessons, I figure, the teacher learns right along with the students. So even though I'm teaching this lesson, we're all gonna learn something. Everyone but you, John. I'm thinking it's probably too late for you. You're just gonna have to be the demonstration."

"Please," said Danziger. He knelt on the wooden floor, facing us, his torso perfectly erect, his hands bound in front of his flat belly. He could have been in church. His light blue alligator shirt had big dark sweat stains under the arms.

Russell strode up to Danziger at an angle, like a veteran teacher approaching a blackboard. His Glock was in his right hand.

On Danziger's other side stood Travis, also holding his gun.

Danziger's eyes moved frantically. For a brief instant he looked into my eyes.

Russell's voice was calm and quiet. "So, John," he said, "what's a duress code?"

We watched in terror.

"A 'duress code'?" Danziger said. "You mean, like a burglar alarm, when-"

"I don't think we're talking about a burglar alarm, are we, John?"

"I told you, I don't know what you're talking about," Danziger said.

"You did, didn't you? So I guess you really can't help me." Russell lifted his pistol and placed it snugly behind Danziger's right ear. He snapped back the slide.

I shouted, "Russell, don't do it!"

Someone-Lummis, maybe?-screamed, "No!"

There was a sudden commotion: Alan Grogan struggling to his feet. "Please!" he called. "I'll talk to you. I'll tell you anything you want."

"Is that Alan?" Russell said without even turning to look.

I watched, riveted and angry, my mind spinning. Russell wouldn't actually pull the trigger. Especially not after the talk we'd had.

But if he really intended to, there was no way to stop him. Not with my hands bound, not sitting this far away. And not with four other armed men nearby.

Grogan zigzagged across the carpet, around the other hostages. He tripped over something but got right back up, with a jock's agility. His face had gone crimson.

"You don't need to do this," Grogan said.

Travis raised his gun and aimed it at Grogan, then the other two did the same.

"Alan," Danziger said, "sit down! You've got nothing to do with this."

Russell turned to Grogan, a cryptic half grin on his face. "You wanted to tell me something? Try and save your friend?"

"Anything you want to know," Grogan said. "Just put the gun down."

"Alan, sit down," Danziger said. "You don't know anything about this."

"I think he wants to help you, John," said Russell. "He doesn't want me to blow your brains out."

"John, just tell him!" Grogan shouted. "Please. It's not worth it. Please."

"It's not worth it, John," Russell said. "Do you know what's going to happen when I pull the trigger?"

"Don't," Danziger whispered. "Please. I'll tell you everything I know about the duress code. Anything you want to-"

"It's not pretty," Russell went on. "It's not like on TV. A nine-millimeter bullet has a muzzle velocity of, like, a thousand feet per second. First thing it does is punch out a round piece of skull, see. Drives the bone fragments right into your brain, okay? Then, at the same time it opens up a nice big cavity in your brain. Like a cave. Builds up pressure inside there. Your brain actually explodes, John."

"Russell," Grogan said, coming closer, "you don't have to do this. He'll tell you everything you want to know, and so will I. No one's going to use any duress code, I promise you. That was just an idea, we talked about it, but it's not going to happen!"

But Russell would not stop his sadistic monologue. "Where I'm aiming, see, the bullet's going to travel right through the brain stem. Kill you instantly. For you, it's lights out. But for everyone else, it's grisly, I gotta tell ya."

Danziger was talking, trying to talk over him. "The duress code is nothing more than a couple of numbers," he said. "You type in a nine before the-"

"They're gonna see blood and tissue," Russell went on, "little gobs of gray matter, spurt out the exit wound. Might even see something called backspatter, contact wound like this. The gray matter shoots out the entrance wound, too. It's not pleasant. Not for me, anyway. I might get some of your brain tissue on my clothes."

Danziger was shaking, sobbing silently. Tears were streaming down his face. Sweat had soaked most of his light blue shirt.

"Stop!" he shouted. "I'm telling you! Please!"

"Russell," Cheryl called out, her voice trembling, "do not do this. You do not want to face murder charges. There's no reason to do this. No one's going to try to stop the wire transfer. You're going to get everything you want."

"He's telling you!" cried Grogan. "Listen to him. What else do you want?" He, too, was weeping now.

"Alan, I want you to stay right where you are," Russell said. "Don't come any closer."

"Russell, please listen to me." It was Bo Lampack. He struggled to rise, fell to his knees, then rolled upright. "Help me help you." He stood tentatively, walked toward Russell. "I'm Bo," he said.

"Sit down, Bo," Russell said.

Yet Bo kept approaching. "I want you to know that we're all on the same page. All of us. We all want to resolve this. We all want to give you what you want."

"Don't come any closer, Bo," Russell said, staring him down.

"I'm just saying," Bo went on, coming still closer, "that you should understand that you're completely in control. And we, all of us, have the deepest respect for you. We understand completely that you're a human being with needs just like all of us-"