High Noon

Phoebe was minutes from the jewelry store when the alarm went off. She stood within sight of it, with the crisis team already moving men and equipment into positions when the nine-one-one call was relayed to her.



This is Mark D, and I have an emergency. There is an armed man holding me and sixteen other hostages inside my store. He has guns and explosives. He says if he doesn't receive a call from Lieutenant Phoebe MacNamara within five minutes from the end of this call, he will shoot one of the hostages. For every minute beyond that five-minute deadline, he will shoot another. If anyone other than Lieutenant MacNamara attempts to contact him on this phone, or any other, he will shoot a hostage. If there is any attempt to enter this building, he will detonate the explosives. Lieutenant MacNamara has exactly five minutes from now.



She reached for her cell phone. "Give me the number inside."



"Communications is nearly set up," Harrison told her.



"I don't want him to know that, or that I'm already here. The less he thinks we know, the longer we can stall." She punched in the number passed to her, sucked in a breath, then punched to call.



"This better be Phoebe."



Answered first ring, she noted, and scribbled down eager/anxious to get started. "It's Phoebe, Jerry. I'm told you want to talk to me."



"You and nobody else. Anyone else calls in here, somebody dies. That's the first term."



"No one else calls you, talks to you, but me. I understand. Will you tell me how everyone's doing in there?"



"Sure. Scared spitless. Got us some criers. One guy's going to have a hell of a headache when he comes to. If he comes to. Hey, I think you know him, Phoebe. Arnie Meeks? You've danced with him before, right?"



Her rapidly scribbling hand jumped. "Are you saying that Arnold Meeks is one of the hostages, and that he's injured?"



"That's what I'm saying. He's also wearing an accessory. Just like the one I made for Roy. You remember Roy."



Not someone she loved this time, she thought, but someone she detested. And a damn clever, vicious way to up the stakes. "Are you telling me that you've rigged explosives on Arnold Meeks's person?"



"Oh yeah. A whole shitload of them. Any move on the building, and I blow him and a hell of a lot of others to hell. I don't figure you'll mind much about old Arnie, right? Guy messed you up, didn't he? Coward's way. How about if I pay him back for you?"



"You don't sound as if you want to do me any favors, Jerry. Can we talk about you and me, and what you do want?"



"We're just getting started. You'd better get things set up fast, Phoebe. I've got a little work to do in here. You call me back in ten."



"Get the com up," Phoebe snapped. "Commander, I need Mike Vince here, right here."



"Done." He ordered it. "We've got a partial visual, a count often hostages on the floor. We can't confirm if there are seven more. Internal security has locked down the building. There's a device rigged to the rear door with trip wires."



"Don't try to defuse, please. He'd know. It would give him the ex cuse to kill a hostage, or set off the rig he has on Meeks. What he wants most is to play me, to pay me back. We need to let him do that, as long as we can."



He'd left a tidy house, she thought, and roses for Angela. "Commander, he's not planning on coming out of there alive. It's a suicide mission for him, his sacrifice. And his way of paying me back. The loss of seventeen hostages, including a man who injured me. I know what he's doing. I need time to wind this out."



"Corn's set-negotiation control's in that ladies' boutique up there." Sykes gestured.



"Okay, I need everything, every scrap we have on him, everything we know or think we know. I need Mike Vince sent up as soon as possible. I need you with me, Sykes. I talk. Nobody talks to him but me." she continued as they hurried toward the boutique. "I need you to feed me information, to let me know if I go off on the wrong angle. He wants to play this out, too, so he won't rush it if we don't rush him. You help me interpret, help me listen, help me with every goddamn thing. Because he knows how this works, and he's waiting for me to make a mistake. He's salivating for just that."



"He's got nothing to lose, Lieutenant."



"No, he's already lost. What he wants is for me to sweat, then blow the whole thing-including himself-to pieces. This isn't a negotiation. But the longer he believes I think it is, the longer we have to get everyone out alive."



"You think he knew Arnie was security there?"



"Yes." She stepped into the boutique where her base had been set up amid thin summer dresses, pretty accessories, high-end handbags and fashionable sandals.



"I think it must have thrilled him to find out Arnie was on the door there. I think he saw it as a sign that he'd chosen his last stand perfectly." She stripped off her blazer, tossed it aside. "We already know why he's in there, what he wants. But we play it out. Start the checklist."



She sat at a table cleared of stock, pressed her fingers to her eyes. "He's cold, rational, committed. He's suicidal. He wants to die. This is another kind of suicide by cop-but a specific cop. Me. I fail, everyone dies. My failure's his motive, but that doesn't go for him unless we establish negotiations, unless we talk, play the game."



She checked her watch. Ten minutes exactly, she told herself. If she called a minute before, a minute after, he could use it as an excuse. She ordered herself to clear her head, to find the calm. When Liz came through the door, Phoebe was counting down the last two minutes. "Your guy Duncan's just outside the perimeter, with his lawyer, Phineas Hector. He says he has to talk to you, right now. It's urgent."



"I can't-"



"Phoebe, he says he's got two people inside. He says he knows two of the hostages."



"Pull him in, fast."



One minute, fifteen seconds, she noted when Duncan and Phin came in.



"He's got my mother in there," Phin blurted out. "He's got my wife and mother in there."



It was like a bare-fisted blow to the throat. "Are you sure?"



"They were going to meet me there." The fight for control was obvious on his face as Duncan stood shoulder to shoulder with Phin. "I talked to Loo on her cell a few minutes before twelve because I was running late. They were inside. They were waiting for me. Jesus, Phoebe-"



"They're not hurt. He hasn't hurt anyone but the security guard."



But her hands had gone clammy. "They're smart, sensible women, and they won't do anything to get themselves hurt."



"If he knows who they are..." Duncan began.



"He doesn't. He couldn't know they'd be in there. He isn't looking at them. It isn't about them. I need you both to go stand back there. Don't say anything, don't do anything. He doesn't know who they are, my connection to them, and that's vital to keeping them safe. I have to call him back. He can't hear anything but me now."



She signaled as Mike Vince came in. "I'm not asking you to go outside. I'm trusting you to let me do my job. You trust me to do it. Sykes,



ADA Louise Hector and her mother-in-law, Beatrice Hector, are inside. I'm calling him back," she said to Vince. "I want you to listen. You have anything, anything at all to add, to help, any question, you write it down. Don't speak. I don't want him to hear your voice."



"Christ, Lieutenant, Christ, I can't believe Jerry would do something like this."



"Believe it." She shoved a pad and pencil at him, then made the call. "Right on time."



"What can I do for you now, Jerry?"



"How about a car, and a plane waiting for me at the airport."



"Is that what you want, Jerry?" She read the note Sykes put in front of her. "A car, a plane?"



Fifteen hostages, cuffed together in a circle. Explosive device in the center of the circle.



"And if I did?"



"You know I'd try to get it for you. Might be able to swing the car. What kind of car would you like, Jerry?"



"I've been looking at those Chrysler Crossfires. Gotta love the name, and I buy American."



"You'd like a Chrysler Crossfire."



"Might. Loaded."



"I'll try to get that for you, Jerry. But you know that you'd have to give me something for it. We both know the way this works."



"Fuck the way it works. What do you want for the car?"



"I'd have to ask if you'd release some hostages. Anyone with a medical condition to start, or children. Jerry, will you tell me if there are any children in there?"



"I don't do kids. If I were going to do a kid, I'd've done yours. Had plenty of opportunities the last couple years."



"Thank you for not hurting my daughter," she said as her blood ran cold. "Jerry, are you willing to release some hostages if I can get you the car you want?"



"Hell no." He laughed himself breathless.



"What are you willing to give if I can get you the car you want?"



"Not a fucking thing. I don't want any goddamn car."



She curled her hand around a bottle of water someone had set in front of her, but didn't drink. "You're saying you don't want a car, at this time?"



"Could've put a pipe bomb in yours. Thought about it."



"Why didn't you?"



"Then we wouldn't be talking right now, would we, you stupid bitch."



Mood swings. Conversational tone, then adversarial. Drug use?



"I understand you want to talk to me. So tell me, Jerry, what can I do to help resolve this situation?"



"You can pull out your piece, stick the barrel in your mouth and pull the trigger. How about doing that? I'll let all the female hostages go if you blow the back of your head off while I'm on the line. I want to hear it."



"If I did that, we couldn't talk anymore. You told me you wouldn't talk to anyone but me. If anyone else tried to talk to you, you'd kill someone. Do you want to talk to someone else, Jerry, or to me?"



"You think you're going to build a rapport with me?"



"I think you have things to say to me. I'm here to listen to you."



"You don't give a fuck about me. You didn't give a fuck about her."



"I understand that you blame me for what happened to Angela."



"You let her die, same thing as killing her. She bled to death while you fucked around with the men who put the bullet in her. I had the shot. In the first hour I had the kill shot, but didn't get the green."



Lies. Probably believes he had the shot now. Needs to believe he could've saved her.



"None of us knew she'd been so seriously hurt, Jerry. They lied to us, to all of us. None of us knew Angela was hurt at all in that first hour."



"You should've known!"



Fury. Grief. "You're right, Jerry, I should've known. I should've known they were lying." She read the next communique that came in with a runner. "I understand you loved her, and she loved you."



"You understand nothing. "



Agree with him, Mike Vince scribbled on his pad. Don't say you understand or you know. Only make him madder.



"How could I, really? You're right. How could I understand that sort of bond? Most people only dream of having that. But I do understand that you were going to be together. You should've been together,



Jerry. You should've been able to run away together and be happy."



"The fuck you care."



His voice was calmer, and she nodded at Vince. "I guess, well, I guess I've dreamed of having what you and Angela had. You know things weren't good for me and Roy. He never loved me the way I think you loved Angela."



"She was my goddamn life. If I'd taken that shot, we'd both still have a life. You saved the men who murdered her, but you didn't save her."



"I failed her. I failed you. You want to hurt me, I understand that, I understand why. But how does what you're doing now balance the scales?"



"They can't be balanced, you fucking cunt. Maybe I'll shoot this asshole Arnie between the eyes. Does that balance the scales for you?"



She picked up the water now, but only to rub the cold bottle over her forehead. "Killing him isn't going to hurt me, Jerry."



"I want you to beg me not to, like you did with Roy. Hear that!



Hear that?" he shouted as someone screamed. "I've got my gun pressed dead center of his forehead. You beg me not to pull the trigger."



"Why would I, Jerry, after what he did to me? After I thought about doing it myself if I could."



"You know what they'll say about you if I do it?"



"Yeah. They'll say maybe I didn't try hard enough, maybe I didn't put myself into this because, underneath, I wanted him to die. I wanted him to die hard. But you know, Jerry, I don't care what they say about me. You pull the trigger, he's gone, and it changes the situation out here. It takes a lot of the weight off me. You know how it works. You do a hostage, Tactical steps it up. So you want to pull the trigger? I don't lose a thing. Is that what you want, Jerry?"



"Wait and see."



He cut off the line, and Phoebe dropped her head in her hands. "Jesus, Lieutenant," Vince managed. "You gave him permission to kill a hostage."



"Which is why he won't." Please God, don't let her be wrong. "If I'd asked him, begged him, not to do it, he'd have done it. And he'd strap the rig on one of the others."



She pushed to her feet when Sergeant Meeks burst in. "You think I didn't hear that? You think I didn't hear you invite him to kill my boy?" He lunged at her. It took Sykes, Vince and Duncan to put him down, hold him down while he cursed at her. "My boy's in there because of you. If he dies it's because of you."



"He's not in there because of me, but if he dies, yes, that's mine. Get him out. Get him out of here."



"When are you going to talk to him about the hostages?" Phin grabbed her arm. "Why don't you give him something, give him something so he'll let the women go."



"I can't-"



"My wife, my mother are in there. For God's sake, for God's sake, you need to get them the hell out."



"I'm going to get them out." She couldn't allow herself to see them-Ma Bee's dark, steady eyes, Loo's slow, sultry smile. "I'm going to call him back, and we're going to work at this until everyone's out. Phin, you have to stay calm. If you can't, I'll have to have you removed. I'm sorry." She looked from him to Duncan now. "I'm sorry."



"You'll get them out." Duncan reached out so their fingertips touched. "You'll get them out. Phin, your sister's out there now, and the rest of your family's coming. You should go out, be with them."



"I have to know what's happening." Crumbling, Phin covered his face with his hands. "I have to know something."



"I'll come out and tell you," Duncan assured him, then turned to Phoebe.



"Yes, that's fine. Go out with your family, Phin, let them know your mother and Loo aren't hurt. We'll keep you informed." She signaled to an officer. "Escort Mr. Hector to his family. If he needs to come back in, he should be escorted back in. All right?" She rubbed her hands up and down Phin's arms, felt the muscles quivering. "You go, help your family. I'm going to help your mother and Loo."



"I can't lose them, Phoebe."



"We won't lose them. Go on now."



"How am I supposed to feel?" Duncan said as Phin went out. "They were meeting me in there."



"He's responsible. And I'm responsible for getting them out." And that's what he'd wanted all along, she knew. Everything else had been building to this.



Showdown.



"Can I get some coffee in here?" Phoebe called out as she rubbed at the tension at the back of her neck. "And more water? Duncan, I have to ask you not to tell Phin anything I don't clear you to tell him."



"I got that. What can I do to help?"



"Listen. You're good at listening." She looked up at the board Sykes had posted. "His emotions are all over the scale. That's typical for this first stage. He wants the negotiation, that's our advantage. He doesn't want to come out of it, so that's his. I'm not calling him back." She turned toward Vince. "He knows how to reach me, he knows how it works. Action, right? He likes to take action, make the moves?"



"Yeah."



"It gives him more of a sense of control, of authority, if he makes the next contact. Let's give him that. Let's wait."



"Got the credit card report," Liz strode up quickly. "Five-thousanddollar charge, Mark D, two weeks before the bank robbery. He made the minimum payments on it until he went south."



"Bought her a ring in there, that's what he did." Phoebe pushed through her notes. "Got the property list, the personal effects. She had diamond-yellow-gold band-ring on her person. White-gold diamondcrusted wedding band in her purse. Not on her finger. She was wearing



Walken's ring when she died. Bastard Brentine. He knew it. Maybe not before her death, but he damn well knew what had been going on when he got her effects. And he stonewalls us."



She scribbled, highlighted, circled. How could she use it? Should she? Time would tell.



"He thinks he knows me, but he doesn't. I know him. And you know him," she said to Vince. "A lot of the men out there with guns pointed at that building know him. He wants to work me, but we'll be working him. He won't allow himself to relate to any of the hostages. They have to remain meaningless to him so he can do what he means to do."



"What does he mean to do?" Duncan asked.



"Kill them all. Kill himself and all of them."



"Oh Jesus God."



"To strike at me, personally and professionally. How can I ever do this again if I fail to save those people? How can I live with it? That's what he thinks."



Pacing in front of the situation board, she stared at the phone, willing it to ring. "The press and public opinion will rip me to pieces. That's what he knows. The connection between him and me will be made known, and the bank incident will be picked over again. I'll be disgraced, and useless as a negotiator, and I'll pay, finally pay, for causing his lover's death. That's what he thinks. And he'll die, in a spectacular and symbolic way. I'll have killed him, just like I killed her. That's what he wants most of all."



She turned to look at the clock. "We're not going to give him what he wants."



"Offer him a trade. He knows about us. Offer to trade me for two of the women. For Ma and Loo. I'm a bigger win for him, and then-"



"He wouldn't take it. And neither I nor the commander could allow it, Duncan."



But he would give it, she thought. He would risk himself for love. "Duncan." She spoke softly, so he could hear her heart under the words. "I know what they mean to you. I know what you're feeling." And it was killing her.



She turned as the phone rang. "All right. Here we go. Hello, Jerry." Inside the bank, Ma patted the hand of the woman beside her. "Stop crying now."



"He's going to kill us. He's-"



"Crying doesn't help."



"We should pray." A man across the circle rocked gently back and forth. "We should put our faith in the Lord."



"Can't hurt." But Ma was putting a good chunk of her faith in the men outside with guns. "Hush now," she repeated. "Patsy, isn't it? Hush up now, Patsy. That woman he's talking to? She's smart."



"How do you know?"



Loo squeezed her mother-in-law's hand fiercely, gave a quick shake of her head. "She sounds smart. She'll find out what he wants, and everything's going to be fine."



They circled each other for more than an hour before he broke communications again. "He's stalling. He wants to string this out, make it last.



There's something he wants to make me do, but he's not ready yet. It's under there, I can hear it under there."



"He's enjoying it," Duncan told her. "He likes telling you no. No food, no water, no medical supplies. He's cruising on it."



"Agreed, for now."



"He's not going to let any of them out." Sykes sat down beside Phoebe. "He doesn't want anything in exchange, and if he did, he knows that releasing any of the hostages is our advantage. They can give us inside intel, make it simpler to shut this down."



"They can't get a shot." Vince walked over to the situation board, gestured to the sketch of the interior of the store. "He's in this corner, northeast corner, and there's no shot. That's why he's there."



"He's been on the other side," Phoebe concurred. "He's familiarized himself with the layout, with the angles."



"They need to go in. Back door's the only way. A frontal assault gives him too much time. They need to deal with the explosives on the rear door."



"And if they make a mistake, if he's got an alarm on it, and it goes or blows, he'll end it."



"You have to get him out of the corner," Duncan said, and Phoebe turned to him.



"Yes, I do."



"If they can't get an angle on him, he doesn't have one on them."



"That's right." Phoebe closed her hand briefly over Duncan's. "That's exactly right. I need to talk to the commander. I need to know where to move him, if possible." She signaled to Sykes to make the call. "They have to let me know when they're going to take him. I know that's not how it's usually done, but they can trust me not to let him know it's coming. I have to move him; they have to know that's coming."



"Got it." Sykes turned with his radio to signal the command post. Shoving her hair off her damp neck, Phoebe paced, tried to put herself inside the shop. "He's going to have to let them use the bathroom at some point, unless he wants a big mess on his hands. And he doesn't. One bathroom, employees', right in the back room." She narrowed her eyes at the sketch. "How does he plan to work this? He'd have thought it through already, have a system ready. That's why he doesn't have all the hostages in the circle. Holding one back to release another. He doesn't have to move or interact with them to handle the basic function. But it's going to be distracting, and he'll have to be alert. He won't want to talk to me while that's going on."



She nodded. "And we're not giving him what he wants."



Time, she thought, to start playing him. She picked up the phone, called.



"Better be you, bitch."



"It's always going to be me, Jerry. You know how this goes. No lying to a hostage-taker, it puts the hostages at risk. No saying no to a hostage-taker, it pisses them off, and puts the hostages at risk. I'm supposed to empathize with you, be supportive of your feelings, listen to your demands and complaints."



"Yeah, you were damn sympathetic with the bastards who shot Angie."



"Angela was a beautiful woman. She loved you."



"Fuck you. You don't care about her."



"You've made me care, Jerry. I'm in love with someone, maybe you don't feel I deserve to be, but I'm in love. So I understand how Angela felt about you. I understand something of what you're feeling, because if anything happened to him, I don't know what I'd do."



"You don't know what we had."



"You had something special, something once in a lifetime. She was wearing your ring, Jerry. She was wearing it when she died."



"What?"



"The ring you bought her in the store where you are now. She must've treasured it. She must have been thrilled to wear it. I wanted you to know that, Jerry. I called to tell you because it proves to everyone she was yours."



"Everyone can go to hell."



"If something like this had happened to me, I'd want everyone to know what we meant to each other. How much we loved each other. I think you want that, too, Jerry. I want to tell you that I do know it."



There was a long beat of silence where she could only hear him breathing. "Roy never loved me, did you know that? He never loved me or the child we made together. Can you imagine? Now that I have someone who does..."



She looked over at Duncan, met his eyes, so she'd feel it only stronger, so it would come into her voice. "Now that I do, everything in the world is different. It's stronger and brighter and clearer. Was it like that for you?"



"She made it beautiful. And bright. Now it's black."



Grief, she wrote. Tears. Careful, careful, she thought. If she tipped him too deeply into grief, he could end it all now. "She wouldn't want the black for you, Jerry. Someone who loved you the way Angela loved you wouldn't want you in the black."



"You put her there. I'm not leaving her there alone."



"She-"



"You shut up! You shut up about her."



"Okay, Jerry. I hear that I've upset you. I'm sorry. You know it's not my purpose here to upset you."



"No, it's your fucking purpose to talk to me like I'm an idiot until



I come out crying with my hands in the air. You think you can play me? You think I'm going out that way after I've come this far?"



"I think you're preparing to commit suicide, and take those people with you."



"Is that what you think?" he said, and she noted the smug satisfaction in his tone.



"That's a big statement, Jerry. And a big black mark on my record. But we could spin it, you know how it goes. It's overkill. Seventeen's our count. A lot of people for you to deal with, and a lot to take down. Now, if you were to let the women out-"



"Come on, Phoebe. That's a lame pass."



"It might seem like a lame pass to you, but I've got to do my job here. I guess we both know it's time for me to ask how everyone's doing in there."



She rubbed the back of her neck as they took each other through the dance-requests and refusals for food, water, medical attention. And the clock ticked off another hour.