Vanish (21 page)

He turned to look up the street, toward the hospital. “I’m supposed to comfort them? I’m barely

holding it together myself.”

“That’s just it, you’ve taken it all on yourself. It’s all been on
your
shoulders.” She touched his

arm. “Go, join her family. Her friends. You need each other right now.”

He nodded. Then, taking a deep breath, he walked back toward the hospital.

It was Vince Korsak who spotted him first. The retired Newton detective came charging

toward him, and intercepted him on the sidewalk. Standing under the streetlamp, Korsak

looked like a glowering troll, bullnecked and belligerent.

“How come you didn’t call me?” he demanded.

“I didn’t get the chance, Vince. Things have been happening so fast—”

“They said she’s been in there all day.”

“Look, you’re right. I should have called.”

“
Coulda, shoulda, woulda
doesn’t cut it. What the hell, Dean? You think I’m not worth

calling? You think I wouldn’t want to know what the fuck is going on?”

“Vince, calm down.” He reached toward Korsak, who angrily batted away his hand.

“She’s my
friend,
goddammit!”

“I know that. But we were trying to control leaks. We didn’t want the press to hear that a cop

was inside.”

“You think
I’d
have leaked it? You think I’d do something that fucking stupid?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then you should’ve called me. You may be the one who married her, Dean. But I care about

her, too!” Korsak’s voice cracked. “I care about her, too,” he repeated softly, then suddenly

turned away.

I know you care. I also know you’re in love with her, even if you’ll never admit it. That’s why

we can never be friends. We both wanted her, but I’m the one who married her.

“What’s happening in there?” said Korsak, voice muffled. Still not looking at him. “Does

anyone know?”

“We don’t know a thing.”

“That bitch popped the secret on air half an hour ago. There’s been no calls from the taker? No

sounds of gun—” Korsak stopped. “No reaction?”

“Maybe they weren’t watching the TV. Maybe they haven’t heard they’re holding a cop. That’s

what I’m hoping—that they don’t know.”

“When was their last contact?”

“They called around five, to set up a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“They want a live TV interview. In exchange, they’ll release two hostages.”

“Then let’s do it! What’s taking so long?”

“The police were reluctant to send in any civilians. It meant endangering a reporter and a

cameraman.”

“Hey, I’ll run the fucking camera if someone shows me how. And you can play reporter. They

should send
us.
”

“The hostage takers asked for a specific reporter. A man named Peter Lukas.”

“You mean that guy who writes for the
Tribune
? Why him?”

“That’s what we’d all like to know.”

“Well, let’s get on with it, then. Get her the hell out of there before—”

Gabriel’s cell phone rang and he winced, thinking that it must be Jane’s parents trying yet again

to talk to him. He could not put them off any longer. He reached for the phone and frowned at

the digital display. It was a number he did not recognize.

“This is Gabriel Dean,” he answered.

“Agent Dean? With the FBI?”

“Who is this?”

“It’s Joe. I think you know who I am.”

Gabriel froze. He saw Korsak watching him, instantly alert.

“We have things to talk about, Agent Dean.”

“How did you know—”

“Your wife here tells us you’re trustworthy. That your word is your bond. We hope that’s

true.”

“Let me talk to her. Let me hear her voice.”

“In a minute. Once you promise.”

“What? Tell me what you want!”

“Justice. We want you to promise to do your job.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We need you to bear witness. To hear what we have to say, because there’s a good chance

we’re not going to live through this night.”

A chill sliced through Dean.
They’re suicidal. Are they going to take everyone else down with

them?

“We want you to tell the world the truth,” said Joe. “They’ll listen to you. Come inside with

that reporter, Agent Dean. Talk to us. When it’s over, tell everyone what you’ve heard.”

“You’re not going to die. You don’t have to.”

“You think we want to? We’ve tried to outrun them and we can’t. This is the only choice left to

us.”

“Why do it this way? Why threaten innocent people?”

“No one will listen to us any other way.”

“Just walk out! Release the hostages and surrender.”

“And you’ll never see us alive again. They’ll come up with a logical explanation. They always

do. Watch, you’ll see it in the news. They’ll claim we committed suicide. We’ll die in prison,

before we ever get to trial. And everyone will think: ‘well, that’s how it goes in jail.’ This is

our last chance, Agent Dean, to get the world’s attention. To tell them.”

“Tell them what?”

“What really happened in Ashburn.”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. But I’ll do whatever you want if you just let

my wife go.”

“She’s right here. She’s fine. In fact, I’ll let you—”

The connection suddenly went dead.

“Joe?
Joe?
”

“What happened?” Korsak demanded. “What’d he say?”

Gabriel ignored him; all his attention was focused on reestablishing the link. He retrieved the

phone number and hit DIAL.

“. . . we’re sorry. This number is currently unavailable.”

“What the hell is going on?” Korsak yelled.

“I can’t get through.”

“He hung up on you?”

“No, we were cut off. Right after . . .” Gabriel stopped. Turned and looked up the street, his

gaze focusing on the command trailer. They’ve been listening in, he thought. Someone heard

everything Joe said.

“Hey!” called Korsak. “Where you going?”

Gabriel was already running toward the trailer. He didn’t bother to knock, but shoved open the

door and stepped inside. Hayder and Stillman turned from the video monitors and looked at

him.

Hayder said, “We don’t have time for you right now, Agent Dean.”

“I’m going into the building. I’m going to get my wife.”

“Oh, yeah.” Hayder laughed. “I’m sure you’ll be greeted with open arms.”

“Joe called me on my cell phone. They’re inviting me in. They want to talk to me.”

Stillman abruptly straightened, his face registering what looked like genuine surprise. “When

did he call you? No one told us.”

“It was just a few minutes ago. Joe knows who I am. He knows Jane is my wife. I can reason

with these people.”

“It’s out of the question,” said Hayder.

“You were willing to send in that reporter.”

“They know you’re FBI. In their minds, you’re probably part of this crazy government

conspiracy they’re so scared of. You’d be lucky to last five minutes in there.”

“I’ll risk it.”

“You’ll be a prize for them,” said Stillman. “A high-profile hostage.”

“You’re the negotiator. You’re the one who always talks about slowing things down. Well,

these people
want
to negotiate.”

“Why with you?”

“Because they know I won’t do anything to endanger Jane. I’ll pull no tricks, bring in no

booby traps. It’ll just be me, playing by
their
rules.”

“It’s too late, Dean,” said Stillman. “We’re not running this show anymore. They’ve already

got their entry team in place.”

“What team?”

“The feds flew them in from Washington. It’s some crack antiterrorist unit.”

This was exactly what Senator Conway had told Gabriel was about to happen. The time for

negotiations had clearly passed.

“Boston PD’s been ordered to stay on the sidelines,” said Hayder. “Our job’s just to keep the

perimeters secure, while they go in.”

“When is this supposed to go down?”

“We have no idea. They’re calling the shots.”

“What about that deal you made with Joe? The cameraman, the reporter? He still thinks it’s

going to happen.”

“It’s not.”

“Who called it off?”

“The feds did. We just haven’t told Joe yet.”

“He’s already agreed to release two hostages.”

“And we’re still hoping he does. That’s at least two lives we can save.”

“If you don’t hold up your end of the bargain—if you don’t send in Peter Lukas—there are

four hostages in there you’re
not
going to save.”

“By then, I hope the entry team will be in.”

Gabriel stared at him. “Do you
want
a massacre? Because you’re going to get one! You’re

giving two paranoid people every reason to think their delusion is real. That you
are
out to kill

them. Hell, maybe they’re right!”

“Now you’re the one who’s sounding paranoid.”

“I think I’m the only one who’s making sense.” Gabriel turned and walked out of the trailer.

He heard the negotiator call out after him: “Agent Dean?”

Gabriel kept walking, toward the police line.

“Dean!” At last Stillman caught up with him. “I just want you to know, I didn’t agree to any

assault plan. You’re right, it’s just asking for bloodshed.”

“Then why the hell are you allowing it?”

“As if I can stop it? Or Hayder? This is now Washington’s call. We’re supposed to stand back

and let them take it from here.”

They heard it then—the sudden buzz through the crowd. The throng of reporters tightened,

surged forward.

What is happening?

They heard a shout, saw the lobby doors swing open, and a tall African-American man in an

orderly’s uniform stepped out, escorted by two Tactical Ops officers. He paused, eyes blinking

in the glare of dozens of klieg lights, then he was hurried off toward a waiting vehicle. Seconds

later, a man in a wheelchair emerged, pushed by a Boston PD cop.

“They did it,” Stillman murmured. “They released two people.”

But not Jane. Jane’s still in there. And the assault could start any minute.

He pushed toward the police line.

“Dean,” said Stillman, grabbing his arm.

Gabriel turned to look at him. “This could all end without a single bullet being fired. Let me go

in. Let me talk to them.”

“The feds will never clear it.”

“Boston PD controls the perimeter. Order your men to let me through.”

“It could be a death trap.”

“My wife is in there.” His gaze locked with Stillman’s. “You know I have to do this. You

know this is the best chance she’ll have. The best chance
any
of them will have.”

Stillman released a breath. Wearily he nodded. “Good luck.”

Gabriel ducked under the police tape. A Boston Tac-Ops officer moved to intercept him.

“Let him pass,” said Stillman. “He’s going into the building.”

“Sir?”

“Agent Dean is our new negotiator.”

Gabriel gave Stillman a nod of thanks. Then he turned and started walking toward the lobby

doors.

Mila

Neither Olena nor I know where we are going.

We have never walked through these woods, and we don’t know where we will emerge. I wear

no stockings, and the cold quickly penetrates my thin shoes. Despite the Mother’s sweater and

turtleneck, I am chilled and shivering. The lights of the house have receded behind us, and

glancing back, I see only the darkness of woods. On numb feet, I trudge across frozen leaves,

keeping my focus on the silhouette of Olena, who walks ahead of me, carrying the tote bag.

My breath is like smoke. Ice crackles beneath our shoes. I think of a war movie I once saw in

school, of cold and starving German soldiers staggering through the snow to their doom on the

Russian front.
Don’t stop. Don’t question. Just keep marching
was what those desperate

soldiers must have been thinking. It’s what I’m thinking now as I stumble through the woods.

Ahead of us, a light suddenly twinkles.

Olena halts, holding up her arm to make me stop. We stand as still as the trees, watching as the

lights move past, and we hear the whoosh of tires on wet pavement. We push through the last

tangle of brush, and our feet hit blacktop.

We have reached a road.

By now my feet are so senseless from the cold that I am clumsy and floundering as I try to

keep up with her. Olena is like a robot, trudging steadily forward. We begin to see houses, but

she doesn’t stop. She is the general, and I’m just the dumb foot soldier, following a woman

who knows no more than I do.

“We can’t walk forever,” I tell her.

“We can’t stay here, either.”

“Look, that house has its lights on. We could ask for help.”

“Not now.”

“How long are we supposed to keep walking? All night, all week?”

“As long as we need to.”

“Do you even know where we’re going?”

She suddenly turns, the rage so apparent on her face that I freeze. “You know what? I’m sick

of you! You’re nothing but a baby. A stupid, scared rabbit.”

“I just want to know where we’re going.”

“All you ever do is whine and complain! Well, I’ve had enough. I’m done with you.” She

reaches into the tote bag and pulls out the bundle of American money. She breaks the rubber

band and thrusts half the cash at me. “Here, take it and get out of my sight. If you’re so smart,

go your own way.”

“Why are you doing this?” I feel hot tears in my eyes. Not because I’m afraid, but because she

is my only friend. And I know that I am losing her.