Jeffery Deaver - The Sleeping Doll

"No vacancies."

She grimaced. Plenty of innocents in the place.

Kellogg said, "Let's plan the takedown." To Michael: "You have MCSO tactical on alert?"

O'Neil was looking at Dance's troubled face, and Kellogg had to repeat the question. The detective answered, "We can get teams there in twenty minutes." He sounded reluctant.

Dance was, as well. "I'm not sure."

"About what?" the FBI agent asked.

"We know he's armed and he'll target civilians. And I know the motel. The rooms look out on a parking lot and courtyard. Hardly any cover. He could see us coming. If we try to empty the rooms nearby and across the way, he'd spot us. If we don't, people're going to get hurt. Those walls wouldn't stop a twenty-two."

Kellogg asked, "What're you thinking?"

"Surveillance. Get a team around the building, watch it nonstop. When he leaves, take him on the street."

O'Neil nodded. "I'd vote for that too."

"Vote for what?" Charles Overby asked, joining them.

Dance explained the situation.

"We've found him? All right! " He turned to Kellogg. "What about FBI tactical teams?"

"They can't get here in time. We'll have to go with county SWAT."

"Michael, you've called them?"

"Not yet. Kathryn and I have some problems with a takedown."

"What?" Overby asked testily.

She explained the risk. The CBI chief understood but he shook his head. "Bird in the hand."

Kellogg too persisted. "I really don't think we can risk waiting. He's gotten away from us twice now."

"If he gets any hint we're moving in-and all he has to do is look out the window-he'll go barricade. If there's a door to the adjoining room-"

"There is," Carraneo said. "I asked."

She gave him a nod for his initiative. Then continued, "He could take hostages. I say we get a team on the roof across the way and maybe somebody in a housekeeping uniform. Sit back and watch. When he leaves, we'll tail him. He hits a deserted intersection, block him in and get him in a cross-fire. He'll surrender."

Or be killed in a shootout. Either way…

"He's too slippery for that," Kellogg countered. "We surprise him in the motel, we move fast, he'll give up."

Our first spat, Dance thought wryly. "And go back to Capitola? I don't think so. He'll fight. Tooth and nail. Everything the women have told me about him makes me believe that. He can't stand to be controlled or confined."

Michael O'Neil said, "I know the motel too. It could turn barricade real easy. And I don't think Pell's the sort you could have a successful negotiation with."

Dance was in an odd situation. She had a strong gut feel that moving too fast was a mistake. But when it came to Daniel Pell she was wary of trusting her instinct.

Overby said, "Here's a thought. If we do end up with a barricade, what about the women in the Family? Would they be willing to help talk him out?"

Dance persisted. "Why would Pell listen to them? They never had any sway over him eight years ago. They sure don't now."

"But still, they're the closest thing to family that Pell's got." He stepped toward her phone. "I'll give them a call."

The last thing she wanted was Overby scaring them off.

"No, I'll do it." Dance called and spoke to Samantha and explained the situation to her. The woman begged Dance not to involve her; there was too great a risk her name would appear in the press. Rebecca and Linda, though, said they were willing to do what they could if it came to a barricade.

Dance hung up and related to those in the room what the women had said.

Overby said, "Well, there's your backup plan. Good."

Dance wasn't convinced that Pell would be swayed by sympathetic pleas for surrender, even-or maybe especially-from members of his former surrogate family. "I still say surveillance. He's got to come out eventually."

O'Neil said firmly, "I agree."

Kellogg looked absently at a map on the wall, troubled. He then turned to Dance. "If you're really opposed, okay. It's your choice. But remember what I was saying about the cult profile. When he goes out on the street he'll be alert, expecting something to go down. He'll have contingencies planned out. In the motel he won't be as well prepared. He'll be complacent in his castle. All cult leaders are."

"Didn't work too well in Waco," O'Neil pointed out.

"Waco was a standoff. Koresh and his people knew the officers were there. Pell won't have a clue we're coming."

That was true, she reflected.

"It is Winston's expertise, Kathryn," Overby said. "That's why he's here. I really think we should move."

Maybe her boss genuinely felt this way, though he could hardly oppose the view of the specialist that he 'd wanted on board.

Stash the blame…

She stared at the map of Monterey.

"Kathryn?" Overby asked, his voice testy.

Dance debated. "Okay. We go in."

O'Neil stiffened. "We can afford some time here."

She hesitated again, glancing at Kellogg's confident eyes as he too scanned the map. "No, I think we should move on it," she said.

"Good," Overby said. "The proactive approach is the best. Absolutely."

Proactive, Dance thought bitterly. A good press conference word. She hoped the announcement to the media would be the successful arrest of Daniel Pell, and not more casualties.

"Michael?" Overby asked. "You want to contact your people?"

O'Neil hesitated, then called his office and asked for the MCSO SWAT commander.

Lying in bed in the soft morning light, Daniel Pell was thinking that they'd now have to be particularly careful. The police would know what he looked like in the Latino disguise. He could bleach much of the color out and change his hair again, but they'd be expecting that too.

Still, he couldn't leave yet. He had one more mission on the Peninsula, the whole reason for his remaining here.

Pell made coffee and when he returned to the bed, carrying the two cups, he found Jennie looking at him.

Like last night, her expression was different. She seemed more mature than when they'd first met.

"What, lovely?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"You're not coming with me to my house in Anaheim, are you?"

Her words hit him hard. He hesitated, not sure what to say, then asked, "Why do you think that?"

"I just feel it."

Pell set the coffee on the table. He started to lie-deception came so easily to him. And he could have gotten away with it. Instead he said, "I have other plans for us, lovely. I haven't told you yet."

"I know."

"You do?" He was surprised.

"I've known all along. Not exactly known. But I had a feeling."

"After we take care of a few things here, we're going somewhere else."

"Where?"

"A place I have. It's not near anything. There's no one around. It's wonderful, beautiful. We won't be bothered there. It's on a mountain. Do you like the mountains?"

"Sure, I guess."

That was good. Because Daniel Pell owned one.

Pell's aunt, in Bakersfield, was the only decent person in his family, as far as he was concerned. Aunt Barbara thought her brother, Pell's father, was mad, the chain-smoking failed minister obsessed with doing exactly what the Bible told him, terrified of God, terrified of making decisions on his own, as if that might offend Him. So the woman tried to divert the Pell boys as best she could. Richard would have nothing to do with her. But she and Daniel spent a lot of time together. She didn't corral him, didn't order him around. Didn't force him to be a housekeeper, and never even raised her voice to him, much less her hand. She let him come and go as he wished, spent money on him, asked about what he'd done during the days when he visited. She took him places. Pell remembered driving up into the hills for picnics, the zoo, movies-where he sat amid the smell of popcorn and her weighty perfume, mesmerized by the infallible assuredness of Hollywood villains and heroes up on the screen.