James Grippando - When Darkness Falls

“Quick, empty it!” said Falcon.

Everything was in one bag. The weatherman grabbed it and set it behind him on the floor.

“The rope!” said Falcon. “I want the rope!”

The weatherman untied it from the wagon and dropped it on the floor beside the bag.

“Shut the door!”

The instant it closed, Falcon hurried across the room and pushed the weatherman to the floor. He took the knife from his coat pocket, cut a two-foot length of the rope, and tied the weatherman’s hands behind his back. Then he locked the door and piled up the furniture to barricade the entrance. He was about to open the bag when Theo’s cell phone rang. Falcon dug it from his pocket and answered on the third ring. Theo was close enough to hear Jack on the other end of the line. He always kept the volume on his cell phone at the maximum setting, since he worked in a noisy bar, and Jack had one of those voices that carried like a loudspeaker. Falcon was holding Theo’s phone a good two inches away from his ear to save his eardrum.

“We made good on our end of the deal,” said Jack. “Now we need that camera-phone picture we talked about.”

“I told you, I’m not wired with explosives.”

“Good. Then just take off your coat, take off your shirt, and take a picture. Then put your coat in the wagon and send it back to us. When we see there’s no bomb, then we’ll all be happy.”

“Screw you.”

“Falcon, I won’t be able to talk the cops into meeting any more of your demands if you don’t keep up your end of the deal.”

“I said screw you!” He ended the call and stuffed the phone back into his pocket. The expression on his face went completely blank. Finally, he glared at Theo and said, “What are you looking at?”

“You should listen to Jack. He’s a straight shooter.”

“He’s a liar. They’re all liars.”

“Right now, I’d say you’re the one who looks like the liar.”

“Who asked you?” He went to the bag, opened it, and looked inside.

Theo could smell the food from across the room. He hadn’t realized how hungry he actually was. “We gonna eat or just talk?” said Theo.

“I’m not eating this crap,” said Falcon. “The bastards probably put sleeping powder in it.”

The guy sounded paranoid, but Theo wasn’t so sure that he was wrong. Falcon grabbed a burger from inside the bag and unwrapped it. The aroma was irresistible, and Theo’s stomach growled. Falcon went to him and put the burger to his lips. “Lucky you. You’re my food tester.”

Never in his life had Theo refused food, especially if it was free. Even when he was on death row, he was the one-man exception to a prisonwide hunger strike. But the prospect of some sort of drug in the food didn’t seem so far-fetched. “I’m not hungry.”

Falcon pressed the barrel of the gun to Theo’s forehead. “I’m not asking. Eat it.”

Theo took a huge bite.

“That’s it,” said Falcon. “Let the big dog eat.”

Theo took another bite. It tasted amazing, even at gunpoint.

Theo chewed, swallowed. “What are you hiding under the coat?”

“Nothing.”

“Then take a picture and show Jack that it’s nothing.”

“Nah. I kind of like letting those jerk-offs think I have a bomb.”

“If it’s not a bomb, then what are you hiding under there?”

“What makes you think I’m hiding anything?”

“I felt it when we were wrestling on the ground. There’s something under there. Something with wires.”

Their eyes locked, and Falcon’s expression changed dramatically. He seemed less nervous, less intense, and he was suddenly more distant and vacant. It was an expression unlike any that Theo had ever seen in his life, and Theo had stared down some pretty scary characters in his checkered past. He felt a strange sensation that he had probed into another part of Falcon’s world and that Falcon was not sure how to deal with the intruder. The room seemed hotter. Falcon was sweating as he unzipped his coat, though Theo was dead certain that it had nothing to do with the room temperature. Theo braced himself-for what, he wasn’t quite sure.

“You mean these wires?” said Falcon. He held them in his fist, pulling them out from inside his coat just far enough for Theo to see.

“Oh, shit!” said the weatherman.

“Take it easy,” said Theo. “If there’s a bomb in there, this is no time to be yanking on any wires.”

Falcon clutched the wires tighter with his free hand. Carefully, he continued to unzip the jacket with his gun hand, his index finger still on the trigger, his middle finger pressing the metal zipper tag to the gun butt. He didn’t stop until the jacket was completely unzipped. Slowly, he swung open the right half of the heavy coat, like a model showing off the lining to a tailored suit.

Theo could see the bulge in the inside pocket-and the wires leading to it.

“Curious?” said Falcon.

The weatherman’s eyes were like saucers. “You don’t have to prove anything. Just leave it alone, all right?”

Falcon was perfectly still for perhaps a minute, though it seemed much longer to Theo. Then his hand started upward. The wires went taut, and the bulge in his pocket began to climb.

Theo said, “The weatherman is right. Just leave it alone.”

Falcon ignored him. He was like a magician pulling a rabbit out of his hat in slow motion. The weatherman cowered in the corner. “Stop, just stop already!”

Falcon’s expression changed once again, the vacant look giving way to something that Theo could only assume was pure amusement. He jerked the wires upward. The weatherman screamed, and Theo rolled toward the wall, as if that would save him from the blast.

Nothing happened.

Theo looked back and saw a small black metal box dangling from the end of the wires. “What is that?”

Falcon flashed a sardonic smile. “It’s just an old generator,” he said.

Theo’s heart was in his throat. It did appear to be some kind of battery-powered generator, which was better than a bomb, but it was still confusing. Falcon was apparently one of those homeless people who kept his treasured possessions with him at all times, no matter how bizarre or useless. Theo said, “I guess you never know when you’re going to need your own electricity.”

Falcon went to the bag, reached inside, and ran the strand of metal beads through his fingers as if it were a fine pearl necklace. “You’ll know,” he said in a voice that seemed to come from another place, the remote part of Falcon’s world that Theo had intruded upon. “Trust me, smart mouth. You will know.”

T he relief was written all over Sergeant Paulo’s face.

Jack felt exactly the same way, and to that extent, looking at Paulo was like looking in the mirror. It had been Paulo’s idea to plant the tiny electronic listening device in the bottom of the double paper bag, buried between the seams. No one, however, had expected such a big payoff so soon: no bomb. On some level, it seemed bizarre to rejoice in the fact that they were dealing only with a paranoid killer who had plenty of ammunition and was a crack shot with his pistol. Small victories, however, were a relative concept, especially in hostage negotiations.

“So, who’s the weatherman?” said Jack.

“We think it must be Walt the Weather Wizard from channel seven,” said Paulo. “He left the station at eleven-thirty last night and never came home. His wife reported him missing this morning.”

“His wife?” said Alicia. “I thought he was gay.”

“Everybody does,” said Paulo. “Maybe that’s how he ended up in a hotel room with two prostitutes. A metrosexual with something to prove.”

“More to the point,” said Jack, “we now know that there are two male hostages and two females. That’s an awful lot for Theo to deal with.”