Terms Of Surrender

“Don’t kid yourself.” The HT gave a short laugh. “Everyone wants something in this life. And there’s not much doubt what all the cops out there are waiting for.”

“What do you think they’re waiting for?”

“Me. Getting carried away in a body bag.”

Jolie leaned forward, elbows propped on the table. “John, you’re wrong about that.” Her voice was firm. “The best sight we could get is you walking out of there on your own volition, bringing this thing to a peaceful end. Seeing all those people in there unharmed. That’s what we want. Doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”

“You do this a lot?”

She followed his sudden switch of topic seamlessly. “You mean talk to people in trouble? I’ve had some experience. Lots of people just want to be listened to. I’m here to listen, John.”

Dace slid a slip of paper into her view. At least he’d taken the care to print, always a bonus when it came to reading his handwriting. She read the directive and glanced his way, giving him a short nod.

“No one really listens,” the man on the other end of the phone said flatly. “It’s everyone for himself in this world. Yeah, you have friends, coworkers, if you’re punching a clock. But in the end, you’re alone. And people who don’t recognize that are suckers.”

The words struck a chord. There was a time when the sentiment was not so far from Jolie’s own attitude. People invariably let you down. It was one of life’s absolutes. It was infinitely easier, wiser, to rely on yourself. But that was before she met Dace. Before she’d had Sammy. Before she’d been the one to let the people in her life down. Big time.

“You forgot family,” she said smoothly, bringing up the topic on Dace’s note. “You have family, John?”

There was a pause, and the ensuing silence was charged with emotion. In the background Jolie could hear Tyler fussing. Calling for his mother. She blocked out the sound. Blocked out everything but the man’s answer.

“Yeah, you’re right. Family matters. About the only thing that does, when it gets down to it. How about you? You have any family?”

And suddenly the charged emotion had nothing to do with the man’s response. Now the air of expectation emanated from Dace.

Jolie hesitated. “No,” she said finally, taking care not to look in Dace’s direction. “There’s just me. But if there’s someone we can call for you, John, you need to let me know. We can make that happen.”

“No, I’ll be talking to him soon enough. When I walk out of here.”

“When will that be, John? When are you planning on walking out of there?”

“Soon. I’ll let you know.” And with that the line went dead.

Disconnecting, Jolie looked at Dace. “So what do you think? Is he considering giving up, or does he still think he’s taking that vehicle and heading out to Never-Never-Land?”

“He’s hanging on to the thought of escape.” Spading nodded agreement while Dawson said nothing. “We still have a ways to go in convincing him to give up.” Dace scratched his jaw, which was already showing signs of a shadow. He’d often shaved twice a day while they were together. The memory snuck into her subconscious, unbidden. Before he’d join her in bed, his jaw would be smooth, inviting her fingers. Her lips. Whatever else had gone on between them, they’d never lacked communication in bed.

A slow heat suffused her body and Jolie forced her gaze away. It was only when actual words were needed that they both had fallen short.

“The way he’s still talking about that car, I don’t think he’s given up on the idea of getting out of there with a few hostages.”

“Maybe not.” With effort she shifted her thoughts firmly back into the present. “But we have time, if we can convince Fenholt to drop this ridiculous time limit and allow us to continue the process.”

“Activity inside.” They all stared at Truman as he recounted the information coming through on his headset. “He’s bringing people to the lobby by twos. Handing them zip cords and having them bind one another’s hands and feet.” He sent a meaningful look to Dawson. “He’s lining them up on the floor below the windows.”

Without a word, Agent Dawson left the NOC. “He’s protecting himself against a tactical assault,” Jolie said.

Spading added, “His actions aren’t that of a man getting ready to give up.”

“His actions also aren’t escalating,” Dace countered. “He hasn’t been violent. Hasn’t made threats for a couple hours. We’ve got no reason to rush this.”

But they were being rushed. Fenholt’s time limit hung over their heads, the minutes ticking away. Jolie glanced at her watch and reached for the phone. They couldn’t make progress when they weren’t engaged in negotiations.

Dawson returned just then. His face, usually so impassive, was set in hard grim lines. “Establishing contact again? Good. Tell him the vehicle is going to be gassed and running, pulled up closer to the back door.”

“What?” Dace exchanged a look with Jolie. “Why? What’s the rush? We’ve got over an hour left on Fenholt’s timeline. The HT is still talking. There’s no reason to deliberately draw him out now.”

“You know the procedure. Just work the subject.”

Jolie felt the frustration coming off Dace in waves, but concentrated only on the ringing phone. Communication between command and HNT unit was a sensitive process at the best of times. As negotiators they had to know enough about what was going on to sound knowledgeable to the gunman. But it was dangerous for them to be apprised of tactical plans. There was too much risk that they’d say something to alert the hostage taker.

That was hard enough to accept when she trusted the people in command. That wasn’t the case here. Foreboding knotted her chest.

“Jolie.” The HT’s familiar voice sounded.

“John. How are things going in there? Have you given any more thought to my earlier suggestion?”

“About coming out? I’ve done nothing but think about getting out of here since this morning, so yeah, I guess you can say I’ve been thinking about it. Been taking precautions in here, too. Just in case some of those cops get anxious to get inside.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

“It’s good to hear, and it’s not that I don’t trust you, Jolie. Really.” His tone was sardonic. “Let’s just call my measures a little extra insurance.”

“Tell me about what you’re doing, John.”

“Nothing more than a little rearranging. No one’s been hurt. But the hostages are now tied up and lying under the windows and across the doorways. Do you know what that means, Jolie?”

She did. The measure guaranteed that a SWAT entry would injure hostages. “That’s unnecessary. I’ve already said no one’s coming in to get you. Why would we? You’re coming out. You told me so yourself.”

“And I’m a man of my word. Proved that earlier, didn’t I? By sending those hostages out.”

“You did. It was the right thing to do, John. And I’ve got some good news for you. Your vehicle is going to be pulled up closer to the back door of the bank. Can you see it?”

“Somehow I thought the feds would start seeing things my way.” Dark humor tinged his tone. “I’ll almost be sorry to say goodbye, Jolie.”

And with that, the line abruptly went dead.

With studied control, she set the phone down carefully on the table. Jaw tight, she speared a look at Dawson, who was watching her. “Fenholt’s hurrying this.”

“It’s her call to make.”

Shaking her head vehemently, Jolie retorted, “She’s crazy. She wants to take him down as he tries for the vehicle? There’s no way to avoid injuring a hostage. How’s that going to play on the national news this evening?”

“Better than twenty-three dead hostages would, I expect. Our guys are good. They’ll minimize the casualties.”

She gripped the edge of the table tightly and fought for control. “One of those casualties is almost certainly going to be a two-year-old boy. She has to consider the fallout if she—”

“Ms. Conrad.” The finality of Dawson’s tone stopped her. “The decision has already been made. The HT is probably heading out the door as we speak.”