Jeffery Deaver - A Maiden's Grave

Click.

"Downlink terminated," Tobe called.

LeBow, hands shaking, stared at the phone.

Four heads jammed into the window.

"Did it work?" Frances muttered.

No one ventured a guess. Only Charlie Budd said anything and the most he dared utter was "Oh, brother."

"Home base to Outrider Two."

"Outrider Two," whispered Lieutenant Joey Wilson, standing just beneath the window of the slaughterhouse, in the shadow of the school bus.

"Positions of subjects?"

The trooper lifted his blackened face quickly, glanced inside, then dropped down again.

"Two takers in the main room by the window, Handy's got a gun on one hostage. A Glock. Right against her head. Can't tell if it's cocked. Wilcox doesn't have a weapon in his hands but's got a Glock in his belt. Bonner's got a Mossberg semiauto twelve-gauge. But he's thirty feet from the hostage room. It's a good scenario. Except for the girl in the window."

"Can you take out Handy?"

"Negative. He's behind pipes. Have no clear shot. Bonner keeps going back and forth. Maybe I can acquire him. I don't know."

"Stand by."

They were well past deadline now. Handy could shoot the poor woman at any moment.

"Outrider One? Report."

"Outrider One. I'm at the generator. Charge is armed."

Lord, let us not fail, Tremain thought, and took a deep breath.

"Outrider One?" Tremain called to Pfenninger, whom he pictured beside the command van's generator, the detonating cord to the L- 210 in his hand.

"Outrider One here."

"Code word -"

"Outrider Two to home base!" Wilson's energetic voice cut through the airwaves. "Hostage is safe. Repeat. Outrider Two to home base. Subject Handy is standing down. He's put his weapon away. Subject Bonner's taking the girl back to the room with the rest of the hostages."

Tremain looked. The girl was being pulled out of the window.

"Subject Bonner has left her in the hostage room and has returned to the front of the factory."

"Code word Stallion," Tremain said. "All outriders, all teams, Stallion, Stallion, Stallion. Confirm transmission."

They all did.

Dan Tremain – senior HRU commander and a man who had a reputation for thinking fast – composed and then offered a silent prayer to his just and merciful Lord in Christ, thanking Him for sparing the girl's life. But mostly he gave thanks for providing the extra time in which to prepare for the assault that He had assured Tremain would free the poor lambs from the hands of the barbaric Romans.

"Downlink," Tobe announced. "From him."

Potter let the phone ring twice then answered it. "Art?"

"Lou. Creswell just called."

"He thinks you're a prick. He doesn't even know your fucking name."

"I have my enemies. More of them within the government than without, I'm sorry to say. What about it?"

"Okay, it's a deal," Handy said cheerfully. "You got one more hour."

Potter paused, let the silence build up.

"Art," Handy asked uncertainly, "you still there?"

A subtle sigh issued from the negotiator's mouth.

"What'sa matter? You sound like your fucking dog just died."

"Well…"

"Come on, talk to me."

"I don't know how to ask this. You were real good about agreeing to give us the extra time. And…"

Test the bonds, Potter was thinking. What exactly is Handy thinking about me? How close are we?

"Well, ask me what you gotta, Art. Just fucking do it."

"Creswell said he'll need at least until nine-thirty to do the clearance right. He's got to coordinate with the Canadian authorities. I told him to do it within an hour. But he said they can't do it that fast. I feel like I'm letting you down…"

And part of him did, yes – at the lie he was telling, so blatantly, so coldly.

"Nine-thirty?' A long hesitation. "Fuck, I can live with that."

"Really, Lou?" Arthur Potter asked, surprised. "Appreciate it."

"Hey, anything for my good buddy Art."

Take advantage of the good mood. He said, "Lou, let me ask you another question."

"Shoot."

Should I push or not?

Angie was watching him. Their eyes met and she mouthed, "Go for it."

"Lou, how about if you let her go? Melanie."

Okay. Art, I'm in a good mood. I'm going to Canada, so you just bought yourself one.

Handy's voice was like a cold razor blade. "Sometimes you ask for too fucking much, you asshole. I'm the one person in the fucking universe you don't want to do that to."

The phone went dead.

Potter raised his eyebrows at the outburst. But the room erupted into applause and laughter. Potter hung up the phone and joined in.

Potter clapped LeBow on the back. "Excellent job." He looked at Angie. "Both of you."

Budd said, "You deserve an Oscar for that. Yessir, I'd vote for you."

"M-4?" Potter said. "What's an M-4 priority?"

"Doris and I went to England last year," LeBow explained. "That was a highway, I seem to recall. Did sound good, didn't it?" He was very pleased with himself.

"That radar missile tracking," Budd said. "That sounded pretty cool."

"All made up."

"Oh, brother. He bought it all."

Then they went somber again as Potter gazed out the window at the place where six hostages still remained, safe for at least a couple of hours – if Handy kept his word. Then simultaneously the entire crowd in the van all laughed once more as Tobe Geller, maven of electronics and coldly rational science, whispered reverently, "Papal clearance," and crossed himself expertly like the good Catholic that he apparently was.

"Well, Charlie, what's the news from the front?"

Budd stood outside the van in a gully. He held his cellular phone pressed hard into his ear – as if that would keep anyone from overhearing. Roland Marks's voice tended to boom.

The assistant attorney general was down at the rear staging area. Budd said, "I'll tell you, it's been a real roller coaster here. Up and down, you know. He's doing some real remarkable things – Agent Potter, I mean."

"Remarkable?" Marks asked sarcastically. "He's brought that girl back to life, has he? A regular Lazarus situation, is it?"

"He's gotten a couple more out safe and he just bought us another couple of hours. He's -"

"Do you have that present for me?" Marks asked evenly.

The door of the van opened and Angie Scapello stepped out.

"Not yet," Budd said, and decided the lie was credible. "Soon. I should go."

"I want that tape within the hour. My friend from the press'll be here then."

"Yessir, that's right," he said. "I'll talk to you later."

He pushed disconnect. And said to Angie, "Bosses. We could do without 'em."

She was carrying two cups of coffee and offered one to him.

"Milk, no sugar. That's how you like it?" she said.

"Agent LeBow has my file too, huh?"

"You live near here, Charlie?"

"My wife and I bought a house about fifteen miles away."

That was good. Work in Meg again.

"I have an apartment in Georgetown. I travel so much it doesn't make sense for me to buy. And just being by myself."

"Never been married?"

"Nope. I'm an old maid."

"Old, there you go again. You must be all of twenty-eight."

She laughed.

"You like life out here in the country?" Angie asked him.

"Sure do. The girls have good schools – I showed you the pictures of my family?"

"You did, yes, Charlie. Twice."

"They have good schools and good teams to be on. They live for soccer. And it's not expensive, really. I'm thirty-two and own my own house on four acres. You couldn't do that on the East Coast, I don't imagine. I went to New York once and what people pay for apartments there -"

"You faithful to your wife, Charlie?" She turned her warm, brown eyes on him.