T heo watched with concern as Natalia tended to her girlfriend’s wounded leg. She was still in the bathtub, and Natalia was kneeling beside her on the bloody tile floor. Theo and the other male hostage were seated in the dressing area just outside the bathroom, facing the open bathroom doorway, their backs against the wall and their hands and feet bound tightly. Falcon paced nervously from one end of the room to the other. He was sweating but refused to remove his coat. Theo was perspiring, too, as the room seemed to grow warmer with each passing minute. The lack of any ventilation gave the air a heavy, stale quality, as if they were drawing the same breath over and over again.
As best Theo could recall, this had all begun with a woman’s scream. Theo had burst into the room, and Falcon had fired a single gunshot. The errant bullet had apparently passed right through the bathroom wall and hit Natalia’s girlfriend in the thigh.
“How is she?” said Theo.
“Shut up!” said Falcon. He was still pacing, mumbling, as if struggling to formulate a coherent sentence. It seemed to frustrate him to no end that he was incapable of improving upon Theo’s words. “How is she?” he said.
“The bullet tore through the skin and took a little piece of her thigh with it,” said Natalia. “But the bleeding has stopped.”
“Good,” said Falcon. “No more bleeding. That’s real good.”
“It’s good only if her heart’s still beating,” said Theo.
“Shut up, you!” shouted Falcon. Then he looked at Natalia and said, “It’s still beating, right?”
“Yeah,” she said. “She’ll have a nasty scar when this thing heals, but it looks like she’s going to be okay.”
Theo winced at the response. Natalia was too far away to hear his whisper, so he waited until Falcon paced to the far end of the room, and then he spoke through his teeth. “Tell him that your friend needs a doctor.”
Falcon wheeled and said, “I heard that! I won’t have any phony emergencies around here. You hear me?”
“This isn’t phony,” said Theo. “Look at her. She’s barely conscious.”
“I decide who needs a doctor. That’s my call. I’m in control here. Understand?”
Theo worried about pushing too hard, but he didn’t want to let this drop. “Look, dude, you got three other hostages. Let this one go, okay? We’re talking about a gunshot wound from a pretty mean pistol you’re packing there. The bleeding may have stopped, but she’s a bloody mess already. She could go into shock, and you don’t need that kind of hassle.”
Falcon’s expression tightened. He seemed to be considering it.
Theo said, “You need to get her outta here.”
“I know, I know! Everybody just shut up!”
Theo said, “Be smart, dude. Cut a deal. Give up the girl, but get somethin’ in return. Maybe this is the bargaining chip you need to get that necklace you talked about.”
Falcon clearly liked the idea of negotiating, but he seemed less than keen on giving up a hostage. He dug the cell phone out of his pocket and gripped it tightly.
“That’s it,” said Theo, egging him on. “Make ’em start talking.”
“Swyteck,” Falcon said, barking into Theo’s cell phone. “Where’s my damn money? And where’s my necklace?” His face reddened with anger, as if he didn’t like the response. “Don’t give me any more excuses. I want my money and my necklace. You got five minutes. If my shit ain’t here by then, I shoot the black guy. You hear me? I’m gonna take out my gun, and I’m shooting your smart-mouthed friend right in the head!”
He muttered something under his breath and shoved the phone back into his pocket. Theo shot him a knowing expression, fully conveying that Falcon hadn’t fooled him.
Falcon said, “What are you looking at?”
“You didn’t open the flip phone,” said Theo. “You can’t make a call if you don’t open the flip.”
Falcon smiled, as if suddenly this were all just a big joke. “Didn’t open the flip phone. That’s some really bad news for you, isn’t it?”
“I’m not followin’ you, dude.”
Falcon stepped closer, speaking in a low, threatening voice. “Your friend Swyteck has a five-minute deadline,” he said as he aimed his pistol at Theo’s forehead. “And he doesn’t even know it.”
T he command center was starting to smell like bad coffee. People came and went, but their coffee cups remained behind. Did anyone ever actually dispose of disposable coffee cups? Jack counted thirteen half-empty ones lying around. Theo would have counted thirteen half-f ones, even with a maniac holding a gun to his head and a sleep-deprived lawyer about to negotiate for his release. They were just wired differently, or at least they held fundamentally different perceptions of Jack’s abilities. To Theo, Jack was a miracle worker, the tenacious young lawyer who had gotten him off death row. To Jack, Theo was the figurative sponge that had already soaked up Jack’s lifetime allocation of luck-and then some.
“Try not to use the word ‘no,’” Sergeant Paulo said to Jack. “No matter what Falcon says, no matter what he asks for, just don’t slam any doors in his face.”
The Bushman’s request for a peep show suddenly popped into Jack’s mind. “What if he asks to talk to Alicia?” said Jack.
“That’s a good example,” said Paulo. “Tell him that you’ll have to check on that. You’ll look into it. Make no promises, but don’t shut him down. You’re in the perfect position, because there really isn’t anything that you can give him without getting approval from the police, the mayor, Alicia, or whoever.”
“Do I raise this issue of the Disappeared?”
“Don’t force it,” said Paulo. “If it comes up, go with it. But remember, he has yet to use that term with us. I’m afraid to raise it with him until we understand the concept better. If we just spring it on him, we may unleash some personal demons that could cause him to freak out and hurt one of the hostages.”
“His arrest record said he came here from Cuba,” said Jack. “Maybe we should check and see if los desaparecidos is a way of referring to the homeless in Cuba.”
“That’s a good thought,” said Paulo.
Jack looked at Alicia and said, “What do you think?”
The question seemed to jar her from deeper thoughts. “Me?”
“Yeah. Your Spanish is excellent-a heck of a lot better than mine, anyway. What do you think about the notion of the homeless being the Disappeared?”
“Hard to say. I suppose it’s worth looking into.”
“Do you have a different theory?”
She paused before saying, “No. Not really.”
Jack sensed that something was being left unsaid, though as a criminal defense lawyer he often got that feeling when talking with cops. He glanced at Paulo but couldn’t read his expression. Jack let it go.
“You ready to make the call?” asked Paulo.
“Yeah,” said Jack. “Let’s do it.”
Alicia slid the phone to the center of the table and dialed the number. Jack drew a deep breath and let it out with the first ring. It rang twice more before he inhaled again. On the fourth ring, Falcon answered.
“Joe’s Deli,” he said.
The stupid joke threw off Jack’s rhythm momentarily. “Falcon, it’s me. Swyteck.”
“You got my necklace?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I do.”
“What about the money?”
Jack searched for the mantra that Paulo had planted in his head. “We’re working on the money.”
“What’s the problem?”
“No problem. Just typical offshore banking hassle. Be cool.”
“I want my money.”
“I understand. But right now we’ve got the food Paulo promised you-some burgers, fries, and nice cold drinks. And we have your necklace. That’s a pretty darn good start, don’t you think?”
“Minimal,” he said.
“But you know the drill. Even little things count for a lot, especially when you’re dealing with cops. If it were up to me, I’d just give all this stuff to you. But these guys always want something in return. So, I hate to do this to you, pal. But what are you gonna give me?”
“Let me think about that.”
“How about-”
“I said let me think!”
“Okay, take your time.”
In the ensuing silence, Paulo made a slow, palms-down gesture, as if telling Jack to be patient.
“I got it,” said Falcon. “I’ll give you shit in return. How’s that sound?”
Jack considered it, wondering how to handle such an offer within the parameters of Paulo’s never-say-no rule. “What kind of shit?” said Jack.
“Horseshit. Bullshit. Whatever kind of shit you want. We got it all, and every time you bastards call me, the inventory just keeps piling up. Now, for the last time,” he said, his voice rising, “where’s my damn money?”
Jack measured his words. He could hear the strain in Falcon’s voice. “I’m not going to lie to you, all right? But we need to have an understanding here. If I tell you the truth, you have to be able to deal with it. Can you do that?”
“Just tell me where my money is.”
Paulo made another hand gesture, this time a sharp, cutting signal, which Jack read as “Stay away from the truth.” Jack said, “Let me check on your money, okay? I’ll work on it, I promise. But you have to give me something.”
“You don’t deserve anything.”
“Do you want your necklace or not?”
“Don’t hang that over my head.”
“I talked to your friend, the Bushman. I know how badly you need it.”
There was silence, and Jack’s instincts were telling him that he’d played exactly the right card. Paulo, however, was making that slashing signal again, silently but emphatically telling Jack not to go down the road of the Disappeared.
“Here’s the deal,” said Falcon. “I’ll give everyone here a turn on the telephone. Ten seconds, no more. They can tell you who they are, and they can give you the name of a friend or relative to call. You cool with that?”
“What do you mean by ‘everyone’? Exactly how many people do you have in there?”
“Do you want my deal or not?”
Jack glanced at Paulo, who gave a quick nod of approval. “Okay. Agreed.”
“But first I get my necklace,” said Falcon. “Send it in with the food.”
Paulo shook his head firmly. Jack spoke into the phone, “First you let the hostages make their phone calls. Sorry, Falcon, but that’s just the way it has to be.”
Jack heard him muttering under his breath, and, in his mind’s eye, he saw Falcon swinging his fist at no one, on the verge of an explosion. Falcon said, “Am I going to have to shoot one of these people?”
“Don’t do that,” said Jack.
“Is that the only way I can get your attention?” Falcon said, his voice suddenly racing.
“Please, don’t even think about it.”
“Because I can play the game that way, if you want me to.”
“That’s not what anyone wants.”
“I can hurt people.”
“I’m sure you can.”
“If I put my mind to it, I can really hurt people.”
Jack heard a sudden scream in the background-a man, though it didn’t really sound like Theo. “Falcon, if you do that one more time, you’ll have SWAT all over you. Just get it under control.”
There was a brief silence, and then Falcon spoke in a halting voice. “It’s under control, Jack. It’s totally under control.”
“Did you hurt someone?”
“No. You did. Now bring me my damn necklace.”
The line disconnected.
“It’s all right,” said Paulo. “That was Falcon screaming, not your friend Theo.”
“You sure?”
“I’m blind, not deaf,” he said. “Trust me. You got us off to a good start.”
Jack wanted to believe him, but his hand was shaking as he handed Paulo the telephone. “What’s he going to do when I tell him that his money’s gone?”
“Hopefully, this standoff will be over before we get to that point.”
“What if it’s not?”
Paulo was looking straight at him, and it was obvious that he could hear the concern in Jack’s voice. “Like I say,” said Paulo. “Hopefully, it will be over before then.”
T heo listened carefully to Falcon’s every word. The phone call seemed real this time, and it struck Theo as a positive step that Falcon was speaking directly to Jack and not the police. Theo didn’t want anyone putting his own interest higher than that of the other hostages, but at least he felt confident that Jack wouldn’t hold his any lower.
“Impressive,” said Falcon as he tucked away the cell phone. “Your buddy made his five-minute deadline with twenty seconds to spare.”
“I wasn’t worried. Jack is psychic, you know.”
Theo gave no outward indication that he was joking, which clearly made Falcon uncomfortable. “You messing with me?” said Falcon.
“That’s for you to figure out,” said Theo.
His eye twitched nervously, and then Falcon turned away. Theo noticed that his face was taking on a constant red and puffy quality, but it wasn’t anger. It was the winter coat. Miami’s cold snap was over, clearly, and the closed-in room was heating up in a hurry. Falcon had to be roasting. Still, he wouldn’t remove that bulky coat.
“Listen up,” said Falcon. “I’m gonna let you make some phone calls. Keep it short. Just give your name and the phone number of a friend or relative who the cops can call and say you’re doing just fine. That’s it. Anybody breaks the rules, I break your head. Got it?”
No one answered.
“Good. We’ll start with the girls.” He poked his head into the bathroom. “Natasha, how’s your friend?”
“My name’s Natalia. And my friend is in no shape to speak on the telephone, if that’s what you’re asking. She’s still fading in and out.”
“Then wake her up.”
“I think we should let her rest.”
“I think she could use a little cold water in that tub.”
Theo said, “Are you crazy? You’ll send her into shock, for sure.”
“The doctor says it’s okay.”
“What doctor?”
“We don’t do the water treatment unless the doctor says it’s okay.”
“What doctor?” said Theo.
Falcon didn’t answer. He went to the tub and turned on the cold water. It spit out a few drops before going dry. “Bastards! They cut off the water.”
“Must be what the doctor ordered,” said Theo.
“Okay, smart mouth. We’ll start with you, and then the pretty boy next to you. But first, I gotta take a dump. You can watch or look the other way. Don’t make no difference to me.”
With the bathroom door open, Theo had a clear view of the toilet, so he looked the other way as Falcon lowered his pants. The coat stayed on.
The man next to Theo leaned closer and whispered, “I can’t get on that phone.”
“Why not?”
“Because-Can’t you see what was going on here, man? These girls aren’t exactly what you’d call my friends.”
“So that must make you their priest who came here trying to save the hos.”
“Nice try. I’ve already worked that one through my mind, and it won’t fly. But I have to say something when the crazy man hands me the phone.”
“Just tell them that your name is John and that you’re here on business.”
“Make fun all you want. But how would you feel if the world was about to know that you were in a two-bit hotel room with a pair of eighteen-year-old prostitutes.”
“Eighteen?” Theo said with a light chuckle. “You can only hope, buddy.”
“Will you stop being such an ass, please? This could be the death of my career.”
“What do you do for a living?”
The guy didn’t answer, but Theo did a double take. “Hey, now I know. Ain’t you the weather guy on Action News?”
“Weather guy?” the man said, straining to show confusion. “You must be thinking of someone else.”
“No, dude. I watch you every night at eleven. Walt the Weather Wizard.”
“That’s not me.”
“Like hell. Dress you up with some hair gel and one-a those snappy Armani jackets, and you’re definitely Walt the Weatherman. But I thought you was gay.”
“No, I’m married.”
“You mean, was married.”
The weatherman closed his eyes and then opened them, as if in mortal pain. “Dear God, I’m screwed.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Theo. “You are so screwed.”
“I can’t believe this is happening. All over a stupid shopping bag.”
“What?” Theo had heard it all as a bartender, but this was one story that not even a psychologist/mixologist could have been expected to endure without being tied down-literally. It seemed that the weatherman’s teenage daughter needed to return a pair of jeans that she’d borrowed from a friend at school. Stupid husband put the jeans in a regular old grocery bag. Angry wife nearly had a stroke. “You can’t use a bag from Winn-Dixie!” she shrieked as she ran off to the closet. Moments later, she returned, the jeans wrapped in packing tissue and tucked neatly into a signature powder blue shopping bag from Tiffany.
“She was ready to kill me over a shopping bag,” he told Theo, “all because she doesn’t want some rich girl’s mother to find out that we shop at Winn-Dixie. So I look at her and say, ‘When did the funny and sexy woman I married turn into such a pretentious bitch?’”
“Ouch.”
“Was I wrong?”
“You’re always wrong,” said Theo. “It’s in the contract. Read the fine print.”
“You think I should have apologized?”
“Hmmm. Apologize or run out the door and hire yourself a couple of teenage hookers? Let’s call Dr. Phil about that one.”
The weatherman breathed a hopeless sigh, as if hearing it from Theo made things even worse. “What should I do now?”
“You do whatever it takes to get out of here alive.”
“Then what?”
“You do the honorable thing.”
“Which is what?”
“Shoot yourself.”
“Shoot myself?”
“Yes. But not on her duvet cover. She’ll hate you for that. You don’t mess with a woman’s duvet cover.”
The guy nodded, as if it all made sense. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
The toilet flushed, and out with Falcon’s waste went the last liter of water left in the hotel room. “All right, smart guy,” Falcon said to Theo. “You’re first.”
The weatherman whispered, “Please, I can’t get on that phone.”
“Don’t worry,” said Theo, “he ain’t gonna get to you.”
Falcon dialed the number, waited for an answer, and dispensed with all pleasantries. Theo couldn’t even tell if he was speaking to Jack or the cops. “Here’s your roll call,” said Falcon, speaking into the phone. He held the gun in his right hand, the phone in his left. “Ten seconds,” he told Theo. “Your name and a contact.”
As soon as the phone was in place, Theo blurted out Falcon’s secret in rapid-fire fashion. “He’s wired with explosives under his coat and-”
“Asshole!” Falcon yanked away the phone and kicked Theo in the belly with the force of an angry mule.
Theo slid to the floor, unable to breathe. He hadn’t been one-hundred-percent certain about the explosives, but he’d felt something earlier when they wrestled on the floor, and Falcon’s refusal to remove his winter coat despite the rising heat only fueled Theo’s suspicions.
Falcon kicked him again, and with all the cursing, Theo knew he was right. The guy was definitely wired.
“I make this promise,” Falcon said, seething as he put the gun to Theo’s head. “No matter what happens, you are not walking out of here.”