William Bernhardt - Capitol Murder

“Mr. Bressler, please let me come in. Let me be your hostage.”

“Why should I trust you? You’ll try something, I know you will.”

“I won’t.”

“You have two minutes left!” Bressler screeched. “If I don’t see Glancy by then, I’ll kill them all. If they aren’t dead already.”

“Mr. Bressler! Mr. Bressler!”

Agent Martinez continued to argue with the man, but Ben knew it would do no good. Marshall wasn’t going to change his mind. This far off his meds, he was way past reason. The FBI was stymied. And meanwhile Christina was dying by inches, losing more blood every second.

He made sure no one was looking. Then he quietly picked up one of the aural implants on the desk and pushed it into his left ear.

He walked slowly down the corridor, passing Agent Cross and the others. By the door, the three officers were still trying to get the fiber-optic cable through the hole in the wall.

“Change of assignment,” Ben said, mustering as much authority as he could manage. “Cross says she wants to see you immediately.”

“Now? We’ve almost got this working.”

“Sorry. Those are your orders.” The three men dropped their tools and started down the hallway.

Ben stood behind the door-knowing that alone made him a potential target-and shouted. “Marshall!”

From inside, he heard, “Who the-?”

“It’s Ben Kincaid. I’m coming in, Marshall.”

“The hell you are!”

“I am. And you’re not going to shoot me, Marshall. I’m unarmed. You said you thought I was the most honest geek on earth, remember? I think you called me a saint. So you know I’m not lying.”

“Kincaid!” This was Agent Cross, about twenty feet down the corridor, running his way. “Freeze immediately! Do not compromise this operation. We will use force if necessary to stop you.”

“Then you’ll have to shoot me in the back,” Ben muttered. “I’m coming in, Marshall!” Then he closed his eyes, said a quick, silent prayer, and turned the doorknob.

Before Agent Cross could stop him, he was inside.

“What are you doing in here? What are you doing?” Bressler waved his hands back and forth in the air. Both hands clutched the gun; he had two fingers wrapped around the trigger. Hazel was cowering in the corner, half hidden by the copying machine. Both Marie and Christina were slumped on the floor. The stillness, the pallor in Marie’s expression told Ben she was probably already dead. Blood was seeping out of Christina’s thigh, but her eyes were still open. Just barely. But open.

She was alive.

“I came for Christina,” Ben said. His heart was palpitating; he was breathing in deep staccato gulps. “And Marie. They need medical help. After I take them outside, I’ll come back and be your hostage.”

“Are you insane?”

“Probably.” Ben was having trouble understanding what the man was saying. Apparently the aural implant was affecting his ambient hearing. “But that’s what I’m going to do.”

“No, you won’t!” Marshall wheeled himself forward until he had the gun right under Ben’s nose. “You think you’re going to pull something. You’re trying to fool me!”

“I already told you, I’m not. I’m not armed at all.”

“Prove it!”

“All right, I will.” Slowly, one step at a time, Ben began removing his clothes. Come to think of it, he thought, this is the second time I’ve had to strip in a U.S. Senate building. This never happened to him back in Tulsa.

He continued disrobing, all the way down to his boxer shorts.

“Superman?” Bressler said, staring at the big red “S” shield on the front of Ben’s boxers.

“Well, people made fun of my last pair. So I switched to something more macho.”

“All right, so you’re clean. You’re still not taking anyone out of here.”

“Yes, Marshall, I am. And then I’ll come back and be your hostage. I promise you. I’ll stay as long as you need me to stay. You can drill me full of holes if that’s what you want. But first I’m getting the wounded women out of here.”

“You’re risking your damn life, you fool. Why would you do that?”

Ben paused and stared straight at the man in the wheelchair. Even off his meds, even totally off his rocker, there had to be some shred of sanity and decency left inside that head. “Because I don’t want Christina to die. Any more than you wanted Delia Collins to die.”

Ben took a slow small step, then another, toward Christina. He wobbled a bit as he moved. His legs were trembling, and worse, the implant in his ear was affecting his sense of balance.

“I’ll shoot you!”

“I don’t think you will, Marshall,” Ben said, not looking back. “Because you know you can trust me. And you don’t want these women to die. They didn’t hurt Delia. You have no reason to wish them harm.”

Suddenly, Ben heard an intense squawking in his left ear, so loud he initially thought it had burst his eardrum. “Kincaid? Can you hear us?”

Apparently someone noticed one of their implants was missing. He kept on walking.

“Kincaid!” It was Agent Cross. “You have endangered this entire operation. You will be fully prosecuted for interfering with a federal hostage situation.”

Ben kept walking.

“But since you’re in there, see if you can get some information out of him. We’ve got the fiber-optic camera working. We can see and hear you.”

Ben knelt beside Christina, his bare knees in the huge pool of blood. She could be dead already, he realized. He could be too late.

“I need to talk to her,” he told Bressler.

“No!” he shouted. “Not a word.”

“Please. I can’t let her lose consciousness.”

“I said, no!”

“Just let me ask her one question. One lousy question.”

Bressler wavered. “Fine. But that’s it. One question.”

Ben heard the crackling in his ear. Martinez this time. “Ask if there are any other hostages.”

Cross chirped in. “Ask if she’s seen any other weapons. Does he have a stash of ammo?”

Ben lifted Christina’s hand out of the blood, squeezed it between both of his hands, and asked, quietly, “Will you marry me?”

Christina’s eyelids fluttered. When she spoke, her voice sounded like rusty hinges. “What do you think I’ve been hanging around for all these years, you dunderhead? Of course I will. Now get me out of here.”

Ben saw the makeshift tourniquet tied around her upper thigh. A piece of her blouse. Damn she was tough. He tightened it, then wrapped his arms under her and lifted her up. He could tell the movement was causing her pain, but she kept it bottled up inside.

“Stay with us,” he murmured to her. “Just a little bit longer.”

“I’m watching you!” Marshall cried. “One false move and you’re dead!”

He carried Christina to the door, opened it. A huddle of agents stood just outside, their weapons drawn. “Stay back,” Ben said. “I gave the man my word.” He passed Christina to the nearest agent. Almost immediately, paramedics converged around her.

Ben went back inside for Marie Glancy. When he brought her body into the corridor, he heard Cross hiss, “We can go in behind you. Use you for cover.”

“If you do, we might lose Hazel.”

“If we don’t, we might lose you.”

Ben shook his head. “I made a promise. I’m sticking to it.” He glanced down at Christina, who was already on a stretcher and being taken away. “Take good care of her.” And then he went back inside the office. And closed the door behind him.

B en and Marshall talked and talked and talked. No matter how psychotic the man was, no matter how long he’d been off his medication, Ben was certain he wouldn’t try anything without provocation. In the first half hour, he watched as Marshall tired and his rage subsided, until he almost came to resemble the steady, wise Marshall Bressler whom Ben had known and admired these past months. After the first hour of talking, he convinced Marshall to let Hazel go, promising to remain as Marshall’s hostage. The more time passed, the more weary Marshall became. He still clutched the gun, but Ben could see his eyes growing hazy, his body weakening. Soon he would have to give in to the biological need for rest. And the more time passed, the less and less Marshall talked about Todd Glancy. And the more he talked about Delia Collins.