*
B en and Loving split off from the rest of the group. They had another stop they needed to make before they joined the party back at the senator’s office.
Loving knelt beside the hospital bed in Room 342 at Bethesda. He wasn’t surprised to see that Shalimar was also there, watching over the patient. He placed his hand on the pale blonde’s forehead. “How ya feelin’, sweetheart?”
Beatrice looked up at him, a faint smile on her pale, barely red lips. “Doing okay.”
Loving jerked his thumb toward Ben. “Didn’t I tell you my man would take care of you in the courtroom?”
“Did he ever. Have you heard what they’ve been saying about him on the radio?”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “About me?”
“Everyone’s falling over themselves praising Ben’s defense work. Even Glancy’s political enemies, people who still think he’s guilty, are complimenting him. Did you hear what the governor said?”
Ben’s eyes widened. “The governor?”
“Of Oklahoma, yeah. I don’t remember the exact words. But basically it was, It’s a shame our trusted senator brought us so much embarrassment-but at least we had Ben Kincaid up there to show the world what it really means to be an Oklahoman.”
Ben gaped. He couldn’t believe it.
Beatrice grinned, her lips chapped and cracking. “So yeah, I’d say he did okay.” She pulled Loving’s hand closer and laid it against her cheek. “But you’re my hero.”
“Mine, too,” Shalimar said, jumping in.
Loving turned a bright shade of crimson. “Aw shucks,” he said, sounding for all the world as if he had just stepped out of a Goofy cartoon. “I’m no hero. You’re the one who pulled my fat outta the fire after I got myself caught.”
“After you got yourself caught trying to save my sister’s life. You are a hero, Loving. And I’ll never forget what you did for us.”
“But testifying was so… draining,” Beatrice added. “They’re giving me drugs to ease the withdrawal symptoms, but it’s still… hard. The docs say I have to stay here at least another week so they can monitor my recovery.”
“That’s okay,” Loving said sheepishly. “We’re not going anywhere soon. I’ll keep you company.”
“Would you really?” her eyes brightened immediately. “That would be wonderful!” She squeezed his hand tighter. “I feel so much safer when you’re around.”
“Aw, sweetie, you got nothin’ to worry about now.” Ben noticed that Loving’s eyes were almost as moist as Beatrice’s. “The Sire is locked up. The Inner Circle has been dissolved. Nothing can harm you.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She paused. “Did they ever find the knife that was used on poor Veronica?”
“No,” Loving answered. “I imagine the Sire hid it someplace after he left the Capitol building. Doesn’t matter. What matters is-”
“Wait a minute,” Ben said. All at once, he felt a cold chill race down his spine. “Wait just a minute.”
Loving turned to stare at him. “What’s the problem, Skipper?”
“The knife, that’s the problem. It does matter.” He pounded himself on the forehead. “I thought at the time-but then I got so busy with the rest of the trial-my God. Why didn’t I see it before?”
“See what?”
“Loving, I think I’ve made an incredibly stupid mistake. Incredibly stupid-and incredibly dangerous.”
“Would you slow down a minute and explain what you’re talkin’ about?”
Ben didn’t answer. “Can I borrow your cell phone?”
Loving fished it out of his pocket. “Yeah. But why? Who’re you calling?”
Ben punched in the number from memory. “Marie Glancy.”
“Would you wonderful people mind if I had a few minutes alone with my husband?” Marie said. They were gathered in the lobby of Glancy’s office-Todd, Marie, Christina, Marshall, and Hazel. Marshall had popped the cork on a bottle of champagne and was pouring it into Dixie cups. Amanda had left to procure more bubbly and some snacks.
“Of course not,” Marshall said. “How long have you two been apart now? Five months?” He winked. “Take five minutes. Ten, even.”
Marie took her husband by the hand and led him into his private office, then closed the door behind them.
“Think they’ll be able to patch things up?” Christina asked.
“Of course they will,” Marshall opined. “They’re both professionals. A divorce at this juncture wouldn’t be helpful to the career of either of them.”
“She heard some pretty ugly stuff in that courtroom.”
“Trust me,” Hazel said, “she’s heard it all before. Maybe not in such a public forum. But she knew what her husband was. She knew when she married him.” She shook her head. “This won’t make a damn bit of difference.”
“I hope you’re right,” Marshall said, wheeling himself up and handing them each a cup of bubbly. “I hate to start drinking without them. But there’s no telling how long they may be. And I for one could use a drink. Christina?”
She hesitated. “Well, maybe one. But then I need to start packing up our stuff. No reason to have all this legal garbage cluttering your office.”
“You can take a minute,” Marshall insisted. They hoisted the cups above their heads. “Here’s to Todd Glancy.” They all clinked their cups together.
“What do you think he’ll do now?” Christina asked. “Politics is out.”
“I don’t know. But he’ll think of something. Maybe he’ll teach, maybe he’ll practice law. Maybe he’ll write a book. Who can say?” Marshall glanced over at the closed office door. “He has so many possibilities. There’s no telling what might happen next.”
“Damn!” Ben swore. “Still no answer.”
“She’s probably callin’ all her friends,” Loving said. “Tellin’ ’em the good news.”
“As if there’s anyone in this town who doesn’t already know. It isn’t busy, it just isn’t ringing.” He closed the cell phone with a firm snap. “She probably turned off her phone when she went into the courtroom and hasn’t thought to turn it back on yet. Either that or she’s ignoring me. Either way-” He turned back to Loving. “-you can stay here, but I have to go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Where you headin’?”
“Back to the Russell Building. As quickly as humanly possible.”
Why do I always get stuck with the packing? Christina wondered as she loaded the voluminous documents that had been produced into catalog cases and banker’s boxes. It was one thing when she was a legal assistant. Legal assistants expected to get stuck with menial assignments, even when they were three times as bright as their bosses. But she was a lawyer now, and a partner, and-
What was the use? She’d never be able to train Ben to clean up after himself, just as she couldn’t train him to take cases that might actually turn a profit. Just as she couldn’t get him to-oh, what was the use?
She slung a few more piles of documents into the nearest open box. They were tumbling out of order, but what did it matter? In all likelihood, they would never be looked at again and would eventually be tossed out, unless Ben used them to write another book. It would be smarter to concentrate on the supplies and equipment.
She thought she had everything-Post-it notes, perpetual calendar, the stapler shaped like the Eiffel Tower, the legal pads, the laptop-
Wait a minute. The laptop. Where was that, anyway? She’d loaned it to Marshall yesterday so he could review the previous day’s transcript, and she hadn’t seen it since. Where was he now?
The door to Marshall’s office was open, and she was sure he wouldn’t mind if she went inside. After all, Marie had been using it as if it were her own ever since the case began. It wasn’t as if Christina could leave without the laptop-the gizmo cost more than she made in a month. It wasn’t on top of his desk, so she checked the wide middle drawer. No luck. She started with the side drawers, the first, then the second, then…
At the bottom of the third drawer, under a hodgepodge of papers, she saw something gray and metallic. At first, she thought it was the laptop, so she pulled it out. Wrong. Even from the back, she recognized it was a picture frame.
Well, she was never one for denying her unquenchable curiosity.
The woman in the picture was not immediately familiar to Christina, but she was almost certain she’d seen the face before. Not in person, but in another photograph. Perhaps a more formal one. Here, she was laughing, her hair whipped behind her, looking out at the photographer with what could only be called eyes of love.
But who was it? Christina racked her brain, searching for the answer.
And then it came to her. And when she remembered, it suddenly became all too clear what had really happened.
In the corridor behind her, Christina heard someone approach.
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it isn’t nice to rummage through other people’s belongings? Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”
Christina slowly turned to confront the person behind her, even though she already knew who it was.
Marshall Bressler sat in his wheelchair, looking just as he always had. Except this time, there was a very large gun in his right hand. Pointed directly at her.
“W hat the hell is going on here?” Todd Glancy said as he emerged from his private office, his wife close behind him. Marshall Bressler was in the main lobby holding a gun on Christina. “Marshall, have you lost your mind?”
“Maybe I have,” he said. There was something eerie about his voice, something Christina had never heard in it before. “Maybe it’s been coming for a long time.”
“How did you get that gun in here?”
He smiled. “Same way I got in the knife.”
“What are you talking about?”
At that moment, Hazel entered through the front door. “What on-?”
“Get away from the door!” Marshall ordered. “Now!” The older woman slithered inside, her eyes wide and fixed not so much on Marshall as on the weapon in his hand.
“All of you-get together. Huddle up in the center against the wall-by the Blue Beetle. Get friendly.”
Marshall pushed his chair backward to the center of the lobby, waving the gun back and forth to make sure everyone was covered. “I’m sorry it’s had to come to this, people. The only one I wanted was you, Todd. All I ever wanted was you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you don’t. Because it’s about me, not you. And in your world, it’s always about you. You don’t give a damn about anyone else.”
“Marshall, how can you say that? After all the good we’ve done, you and me, working side by side, fighting the good fight.”
Marshall’s teeth locked, his whole face displaying his contempt. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Then talk to us,” Christina said, trying to deflect his attention. It was obvious Marshall was not stable and that he had some sort of grudge against Glancy. If they continued talking like this much longer, that gun was going to fire. “What is it you want?”
“From you, nothing. You’ve never been anything but a warm, beautiful, caring person. All you had to do was look at that picture for a second and you got it, didn’t you?” Christina didn’t answer. “I could’ve put the damn thing out on my desk, and Todd still wouldn’t have understood.”
“Maybe if you explain it to him. Maybe if we all just calm down and-”
“It’s too late for that!” Marshall’s voice soared in volume. His hands began to tremble. “I very much regret having to do this to you, Christina. And to you, Marie, and Hazel.” He pointed the gun at Glancy. “But now you’re all going to have to watch this son of a bitch die.”
“Marshall!” Glancy said. “You can’t mean it.”
“Believe me, I do.”
“Marshall!” Marie shrieked. “Please! I beg you.”
“Don’t waste your breath.”
“Marshall,” Marie continued, “look at me. Look-at-me!”
He did, and the instant he did, Todd Glancy dove toward the open front door. Marshall wheeled around and fired, but he was well wide of the mark. He swiveled his chair then fired again, this time missing by inches. Glancy did a forward somersault, landed on his feet, then raced through the door.
“Come back, you miserable coward!” Another bullet shattered the jamb. But Glancy escaped.
“Marie-you traitor!” Enraged, eyes wide and red, Marshall whirled himself around to face the three women huddled around the ancient copying machine. Without a moment’s hesitation, he raised the gun and fired. Marie Glancy gasped, then tumbled to the floor.
Christina screamed. “Marie!” Hazel began sobbing.
“And I’ll kill you two just like I did her. Just like I did Veronica!” he shouted, weaving back and forth in his wheelchair. “Nobody else moves. Nobody else speaks. Do you hear me? Do you hear me? Because if you don’t do what I say, you’re both dead!”
B y the time Ben arrived at the Russell Building, a siren was wailing and the Capitol police had already cordoned off the area surrounding Glancy’s office. People were being evacuated as quickly as possible. The FBI was on the scene as well. Todd Glancy had contacted the authorities as soon as he escaped, and a full-fledged hostage situation had ensued. The federal agents were assembling an operations center and trying to establish contact with Marshall Bressler, the administrative assistant who was now holding three women hostage.
Including Christina.
“I’m Agent Martinez,” said a wide-framed officer wearing a standard FBI blue suit and white shirt. “I’m the situation commander.” He gestured toward an older woman in a black sweater with a brown leather gun holster slung over her shoulder. “This is Advisory Commander Cross. We understand you know one of the hostages. A Miss McCall.”
“I know all of the hostages,” Ben explained. “But yes, I know Christina very well. She’s my partner. We’ve worked together for years.”
“Good,” Martinez said, while simultaneously waving at an operative at the opposite end of the hallway and pulling out his buzzing cell phone. “That could be useful.”
“You got here fast,” Ben remarked, impressed.
“We’re trained for speedy response. After 9/11, we have no choice. Anthrax, ricin, whatever happens next, we have to be able to respond quickly to protect the nation’s leaders. Soon as we got the call from Senator Glancy, we roped off the area and began evacuating the senators and their staff across the street to the Library of Congress. We called out the HAZMAT team-the boys in the white space suits. Just to be on the safe side. Tours have been shut down. The restaurants closed. The pages have been given the day off.”
“Why the FBI?”
“We’re the hostage experts. The Capitol officers are used to dealing with poison in the mail and streakers and such, but they’ve never had a full-out hostage scenario here before.” He flipped open the lid of his phone. “Excuse me. It’s Lieutenant Carney, our tactical commander. I have to take it.”
He moved to the other side of the corridor where he could talk with some semblance of quiet. Although the passageway had been blocked off and all civilians had been evacuated, there were still dozens of people in the corridor, all of them moving in busy crisscross patterns, pursuing their appointed tasks with great urgency.
A large marker board had been set up at the top of the stairs. Ben didn’t comprehend a lot of it, but he did recognize one sketch as a rough outline of Glancy’s office. Several names were written to the side, with abbreviated duty assignments reduced to incomprehensible acronyms. And at the top of the board, in bold black letters, someone had recorded THE FOUR STEPS OF SUCCESSFUL HOSTAGE NEGOTIATION: TRUST, CONTAIN, RECONCILE, RESOLVE.
“I know you’re busy,” Ben said, grabbing the arm of Advisory Commander Cross, “but can you give me some idea what’s going on?”
“We still don’t know what started it,” Cross patiently explained. She had short brunette hair, an efficient cut that would prevent her hair from ever obstructing her vision. “But the Senator’s administrative assistant has apparently gone psychotic. He has a gun-we don’t know how he got it in the building. Maybe he overcame one of the security guards.”
“Bressler? He can’t even stand up.” Ben shook his head. “I know how he got the gun into the building. Same way he got in the knife.” And then Ben explained it to her.
“He’s taken prisoners,” Cross said. “Senator Glancy managed to escape, barely, but Bressler has at least three other hostages, maybe more. And one of them is wounded.”
Ben’s heart raced. “Which one?”
“Marie Glancy.”
Ben’s eyes closed.
“You look relieved.”
“No, of course not. How badly is she hurt?”
“We don’t know. Bressler has only spoken to us once, by cell, and he wouldn’t say much. All he told us was what he wants.”
“Which is?”
“Safe passage out of the country. And Todd Glancy.”
“He wants to take Glancy out of the country?”
She shook her head curtly. “He wants to kill him.”
“Marshall,” Christina said, pleading, “why are you doing this?”
“The time comes,” Bressler said, his voice slow and menacing, “when a man has to take action. Has to do what’s right. Stand up for the woman he loves.”
“I’ve been working with you for months. You’ve always been logical, reasoned-the one voice of sanity in a crazy politically obsessed world.”
He laughed bitterly. “Guess you didn’t know me as well as you thought you did. Ben’s going to have to get a new psychic.”
“But Marshall-taking hostages? In the U.S. Senate? You can’t possibly succeed. I don’t care what you do to us-they’ll never let you leave. This is crazy.”
“Don’t call me crazy!” he bellowed. “Don’t ever call me crazy! That’s what that damn doctor said. That’s why he kept cramming me full of those blue pills you’ve seen me taking, day after day. Well, I don’t need the doctor, and I don’t need his stupid pills.”
“All right, all right.” Christina held her hands up, trying to placate him. Behind her, Hazel was huddled beside the copying machine, crumpled on the floor. She had totally fallen apart, melted into a useless heap, racked with sobbing. She wasn’t going to be any help. And Marie hadn’t moved since the bullet caught her in the chest. If she wasn’t dead already, she would be soon.
“Marshall, at least let them send in a doctor for Marie. She’s seriously wounded.”
“Serves her right. She was never any kind of wife to Todd. All she’s ever done is lay plots and plans, look ahead to when Todd would be out of the way and she could start her own political career.” He snorted bitterly. “There is some justice in that. Todd got exactly the wife he deserved.”
“Whatever she may or may not have done, she doesn’t deserve to die. Please ask them for-”
“No doctors!” he yelled, his gun hand wobbling with such uncertainty Christina was afraid it might fire at any moment. “If they want to send someone in, send Todd. He said in the courtroom that he’d do anything for his wife. Fine. Let him come in and get her.” A thin smile spread across his lips. “I’ll have quite a reception waiting for him.”
In the charging bay in the left arm of his wheelchair, Marshall’s cell phone sounded.
“They want to talk to you,” Christina said.
“I’ve already said everything I have to say.”
“Please talk to them. Maybe you can work something out. Some sort of compromise.”
“No compromises! They give me what I want-exactly what I want-or I start shooting.” He raised the gun again, wheeling himself closer and closer as Christina pressed up against the wall. “And you’re next.”
Ben listened attentively as Agent Martinez attempted to reestablish contact with Marshall Bressler. “Pick up the phone, man. Pick up the phone!”
Finally, on the overhead speaker, they all heard the click of the call being answered. “Have you got Glancy?”
Martinez looked down at his legal pad. Ben could see that he was reading from prepared notes, only improvising when necessary. “Mr. Bressler, I want to help you.”
“Then bring me Glancy!”
“I will consider any reasonable requests. And I won’t lie to you.”
Ben realized Martinez was trying to work his way through those key negotiation steps. But Bressler wouldn’t even let him get to first base: Trust.
“There’s only one thing I want. Todd Glancy.”
“Be reasonable, sir. You know I can’t do that.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to shoot someone else!”
“Please don’t do that. You’ll only make your situation worse.”
“Worse? How could I make things worse?”
“Sir, I know what you’ve been going through.”
“No you don’t. How dare you say that when you don’t. You couldn’t possibly! You can’t know what it’s like to have the only thing you ever cared about in your entire life, the only thing you ever loved or that ever loved you, taken away.”
And that was the final piece of the puzzle. Now Ben understood. At long last he grasped what had happened, what was really going on. He wanted to kick himself in the head. He was so stupid, so slow-why hadn’t he seen it sooner? He’d become so obsessed with the trial, trying to devise some way of winning, that he’d missed the obvious. When you considered all the facts-it was the only possible answer.
“Mr. Bressler,” Martinez continued, “I want to help. I want to give you any reasonable thing you want or need and make sure no one else gets hurt. But we can’t give you another hostage.”
“Tell Todd his wife is dying!” the voice on the phone shouted back. “Tell him even if he doesn’t give a damn about her, his approval ratings will hit the floor if he lets her die.”
Martinez took a deep breath. Ben could see he was struggling to maintain that benign mediator’s voice. “As it happens, sir, Senator Glancy has offered repeatedly to give himself up as a trade for his wife. But we can’t permit it.”
“You’d better change your mind.”
“Sir, you’ve been in government a long time. You know we can never put any private citizen in jeopardy, not under any circumstances. And certainly not a United States senator.”
“Then you’ve doomed every woman in this room!” he hissed back, his voice so loud it made the speakers rattle.
“Sir, wait, please, listen to me. I know you’re scared, confused. You don’t know what’s going to happen. You need someone you can trust. I’m your man. Take me as your hostage. I’ll go in, unarmed, unbugged. I won’t try anything. You have my word on that. Trade me for your hostages. Or at least for Mrs. Glancy.”
“No deal.”
“She needs medical attention.”
“You’re damn right she does! And if she doesn’t get it soon, she’s gonna die. And won’t that be ironic? Won’t that be the perfect quid pro fucking quo!”
“Sir, let me come in. Just to talk.”
“You send Todd Glancy in here in the next ten minutes, or one of the women dies.” The line disconnected with a clatter.
“Jesus,” Agent Cross muttered under her breath. “He’s going to kill them. He’s going to kill them all.”
Martinez’s fists balled up with frustration. “Can someone please explain to me what this guy’s problem is?”
“I can,” Ben said. “I get it now.”
Martinez turned and stared at him. “Then would you please tell me what I’m supposed to do?”
“That’s the problem,” Ben said, eyes widening. “There’s nothing we can do. It’s too late.”
“Why won’t they give me what I want?” Bressler screamed, wheeling himself back and forth across the office lobby. “Is this so hard? All I want is one lousy senator. Hell, they’ve got a hundred of them. No one will miss one. Especially not that one.”
“Marshall,” Christina said, “please try to stay calm.” She knew she was taking a risk, talking to him, but she had to do something. His eyes were red and inflamed, he was incoherent with rage. Christina was no expert, but it looked to her as if this previously calm, efficient man of logic was totally losing his grip. And if that was the case, there was no telling what he might do. “Maybe you should ask for something else.”
“I don’t want anything else!”
“They won’t give you Glancy. They can’t. Why not ask for money? Or just settle for transportation to some country that the U.S. doesn’t have an extradition treaty with. I’m sure you know more about that than I do.”
“No!” he bellowed. “I want Glancy. And I’ll get Glancy, or they’ll see everyone in this room die!”
“P-p-p-please…” It was Hazel, hunched down on the floor, her aged hands covering her head. “Please let me go. I don’t care what you do to Todd. I don’t care what you do to anyone. But please let me go.”
For a moment, gazing at the broken, elderly woman he’d known for more than a decade, Marshall almost regained his usual countenance. “I regret that I must do this to you, Hazel. I truly do. But it’s necessary.”
“I-I can’t take it any longer, Marshall. You know how bad my heart is. I’m not going to make it.”
“If you die, you die. It happens.” His eyes narrowed. “Even to the people you love most.”
Christina steeled herself and took a step forward. “Marshall, please. End this nightmare. Let Marie get medical attention. I know you’re not a bad person. I don’t-I don’t understand what’s happened to you. But I can’t believe you want to hurt anyone.” She held out her hand. “Give it up, Marshall. Give me the gun.”
“You want it. Here it is.” He fired.
Christina’s heart raced. The bullet drilled a hole in the carpet between her legs.
“Now stand by the wall and stay put,” he growled, waving her back with the gun. “Next time, I won’t miss.”
“What was that?” Ben asked, grabbing Agent Cross’s arm, refusing to let her go. He knew he was pushing his luck. They’d tolerated him so far because he had information that was useful to them, but they could get rid of him with a single word to one of the dozens of agents on duty. “What happened?”
“That’s what Agent Martinez is attempting to find out.” She looked over Ben’s shoulder and saw the situation commander’s signal. “He doesn’t think anyone was hurt. Just a stray shot.”
“This time! Marshall’s getting crazier by the minute. We have to do something.”
“Mr. Kincaid, I assure you we are doing something. Everything we can. But we have to play this by the book.”
“I don’t care about your book. I want Christina out of there. And the others.” He paused, desperately searching for a solution. “What about tear gas? Can’t you flood the room with gas?”
“Not without him knowing about it. He’d have plenty of time to kill the hostages before the gas knocked him out. And he’s said if we try anything of that nature that’s exactly what he will do.”
“What about a sniper? Doesn’t your tactical man have snipers on the scene?”
She threw back her shoulders. Ben was obviously starting to get on her nerves. “He has tons of snipers, Mr. Kincaid-but nowhere to put them. There are no buildings or other perches that would give them a line on Senator Glancy’s office. For a reason. This is the U.S. Senate, remember? We’ve never allowed any construction that could be turned into a potential sniper’s nest.”
“Maybe a SWAT team could rush the door. We don’t even know that it’s locked.”
“That’s an option. But if we do that, realistically, he’ll kill at least one of the hostages before they get him. Maybe all of them.”
Over by the phone station, Ben saw Martinez stick something in his ear. “What’s that?”
“An aural implant. Tiny, can’t be seen. But it will allow us to talk to him-if Bressler ever gives him the okay to go in.”
“What about over there?” Ben pointed toward three men huddled just to the side of the closed door to Glancy’s office. “What are they doing?”
“Trying to get a fiber-optic cable inside. One of Bressler’s earlier shots went wild and put a hole in the wall. If we can get a videocam cable through it, we can at least see and hear what’s going on.”
“But how are we going to get the hostages out?” Ben knew he sounded desperate. He was. He’d known Christina so long, had wasted so much time, and now some madman was threatening to take her away from him forever. “He gave us ten minutes.”
“Agent Martinez is negotiating for more time.”
“He’s not going to give you any more time!”
“So what do you want us to do, Kincaid? Send Glancy in to be slaughtered?”
Ben fell silent.
“Please. Just let us do our jobs!”
“Cross!”
Both of them whirled around. It was Carney, the tactical commander. “Just got this tidbit from the computer geeks. Agent Martinez is on the phone with Bressler, so I thought you’d want to see it.”
Cross rapidly scanned the document. “Oh my God.”
“What?” Ben said. “What is it?”
“How did you get the doctor to release this?”
Carney looked at her stoically. “We didn’t ask. You can expect a lawsuit later.”
“Would someone please tell me what it is?” Ben pleaded.
Cross looked at him, thought a moment, then decided to cut him a break. “It’s about Marshall Bressler. Did you know he was seeing a psychiatrist?”
Ben’s heart felt as if it turned to lead. “Why?”
“According to this, the car accident that crippled him also caused damage to the bilateral lobes of his brain, making him susceptible to delusions, paranoia.” She paused. “And given to bursts of sudden uncontrollable mania.”
“Meaning?”
“In lay terms? He’s a walking time bomb.”
“I’ve been working with him for weeks. I’ve seen no signs of any… mania.”
“Because he’s been heavily medicated with psychotropic drugs. Have you seen him taking pills?”
“Yes. He said they were pain medication.”
“Maybe some of them were. But he was also taking a powerful antipsychotic. One little blue pill every six hours. That’s what’s kept him under control.”
Ben took a step backward, staggering. “He lost his briefcase this morning. So he’s off his meds. Combine that with seeing Glancy acquitted-”
“This changes everything,” Cross snapped to Carney. “Get a message to Martinez. Tell him-”
She was cut off by the sound of a gun firing inside the office. Followed by a piercing scream.
“What happened?” Ben asked, running toward the phone base. “That was Christina’s voice. Was someone shot? Christina!”
It was her own fault, Christina thought, as she struggled to remain alert and rational through the blinding pain. Whoever was talking to Marshall on the phone was doing a good job; for the first time, Marshall seemed somewhat distracted. He became so angry, so intent on shouting at the man on the other end, that he lowered his gun. And that was when Christina made her move.
It always worked in the movies, she’d thought, as she fell in a heap onto the carpeted floor. But in real life, people don’t move faster than bullets. Even before he fired, she had realized that she wasn’t going to get there in time and tried to get out of the way. But it was too late. The bullet caught her in the upper right thigh. It hurt like hell and it was bleeding like a river.
All the times she’d watched cop shows on television, through all the westerns she’d seen as a kid, she’d always wondered what it felt like to be shot. Well, now she knew.
It hurt.
“Please let them send in a doctor,” Christina begged. Her voice was weak and feeble and she knew it.
“No!” Marshall screamed. “I told you not to try anything! I told you!”
“Then-at least let Hazel tie a tourniquet on my leg. I’m bleeding buckets.”
Marshall looked at the elderly woman cringing beside the copying machine. “You really think she’s capable of anything like that?”
Fine, damn you. I’ll do it myself. Christina placed both hands on opposite ends of her blouse and tore off a long strip. She just wished she hadn’t worn something so nice. She’d made the mistake of dressing for court rather than for a bullet wound.
Mustering every ounce of strength she had, she wrapped the strip around her leg, just above the wound, and pulled it as tight as possible. The pain was crippling; she felt lights exploding in her head and thought she might pass out. But that was not an option, she told herself. She had to stay awake. She had to. She tied the tourniquet in a knot, then lay back on the carpet, exhausted.
Are you out there, Ben? she wondered. Because I need you. I really need you. I’ll forget about all the problems, the hesitation, the emotional blindness. I’d forget everything if I could just see you walk through that door.
But she was being stupid. There was no way that could happen. She was trapped with a revenge-crazed lunatic. And judging by the way she felt, if the FBI didn’t do something soon, she would never see Ben again.
“Just tell us as much as you can,” Martinez said to Marshall over the phone. He had already blown step two: Contain. So he was trying for some hope of Reconcile. “Is she hurt badly?”
Ben felt a hollow, sick feeling in his stomach. Someone had tried to get the gun away from Bressler. And since Marie was unconscious and Hazel was in her sixties…
“I warned her!” Bressler screamed. “I warned you all!”
“Can you tell where the bullet struck her?”
“I don’t know. Looks like the leg.”
“Is she bleeding?”
“Yeah. A lot. She’s not going to last long.”
“Did the bullet pass through?”
“How the hell would I know?” Marshall’s voice rose. “What does it matter? If you don’t send me Glancy, the next bullet’s going into her skull!”
“Mr. Bressler, please let me come in. Let me be your hostage.”
“Why should I trust you? You’ll try something, I know you will.”
“I won’t.”
“You have two minutes left!” Bressler screeched. “If I don’t see Glancy by then, I’ll kill them all. If they aren’t dead already.”
“Mr. Bressler! Mr. Bressler!”
Agent Martinez continued to argue with the man, but Ben knew it would do no good. Marshall wasn’t going to change his mind. This far off his meds, he was way past reason. The FBI was stymied. And meanwhile Christina was dying by inches, losing more blood every second.
He made sure no one was looking. Then he quietly picked up one of the aural implants on the desk and pushed it into his left ear.
He walked slowly down the corridor, passing Agent Cross and the others. By the door, the three officers were still trying to get the fiber-optic cable through the hole in the wall.
“Change of assignment,” Ben said, mustering as much authority as he could manage. “Cross says she wants to see you immediately.”
“Now? We’ve almost got this working.”
“Sorry. Those are your orders.” The three men dropped their tools and started down the hallway.
Ben stood behind the door-knowing that alone made him a potential target-and shouted. “Marshall!”
From inside, he heard, “Who the-?”
“It’s Ben Kincaid. I’m coming in, Marshall.”
“The hell you are!”
“I am. And you’re not going to shoot me, Marshall. I’m unarmed. You said you thought I was the most honest geek on earth, remember? I think you called me a saint. So you know I’m not lying.”
“Kincaid!” This was Agent Cross, about twenty feet down the corridor, running his way. “Freeze immediately! Do not compromise this operation. We will use force if necessary to stop you.”
“Then you’ll have to shoot me in the back,” Ben muttered. “I’m coming in, Marshall!” Then he closed his eyes, said a quick, silent prayer, and turned the doorknob.
Before Agent Cross could stop him, he was inside.
“What are you doing in here? What are you doing?” Bressler waved his hands back and forth in the air. Both hands clutched the gun; he had two fingers wrapped around the trigger. Hazel was cowering in the corner, half hidden by the copying machine. Both Marie and Christina were slumped on the floor. The stillness, the pallor in Marie’s expression told Ben she was probably already dead. Blood was seeping out of Christina’s thigh, but her eyes were still open. Just barely. But open.
She was alive.
“I came for Christina,” Ben said. His heart was palpitating; he was breathing in deep staccato gulps. “And Marie. They need medical help. After I take them outside, I’ll come back and be your hostage.”
“Are you insane?”
“Probably.” Ben was having trouble understanding what the man was saying. Apparently the aural implant was affecting his ambient hearing. “But that’s what I’m going to do.”
“No, you won’t!” Marshall wheeled himself forward until he had the gun right under Ben’s nose. “You think you’re going to pull something. You’re trying to fool me!”
“I already told you, I’m not. I’m not armed at all.”
“Prove it!”
“All right, I will.” Slowly, one step at a time, Ben began removing his clothes. Come to think of it, he thought, this is the second time I’ve had to strip in a U.S. Senate building. This never happened to him back in Tulsa.
He continued disrobing, all the way down to his boxer shorts.
“Superman?” Bressler said, staring at the big red “S” shield on the front of Ben’s boxers.
“Well, people made fun of my last pair. So I switched to something more macho.”
“All right, so you’re clean. You’re still not taking anyone out of here.”
“Yes, Marshall, I am. And then I’ll come back and be your hostage. I promise you. I’ll stay as long as you need me to stay. You can drill me full of holes if that’s what you want. But first I’m getting the wounded women out of here.”
“You’re risking your damn life, you fool. Why would you do that?”
Ben paused and stared straight at the man in the wheelchair. Even off his meds, even totally off his rocker, there had to be some shred of sanity and decency left inside that head. “Because I don’t want Christina to die. Any more than you wanted Delia Collins to die.”
Ben took a slow small step, then another, toward Christina. He wobbled a bit as he moved. His legs were trembling, and worse, the implant in his ear was affecting his sense of balance.
“I’ll shoot you!”
“I don’t think you will, Marshall,” Ben said, not looking back. “Because you know you can trust me. And you don’t want these women to die. They didn’t hurt Delia. You have no reason to wish them harm.”
Suddenly, Ben heard an intense squawking in his left ear, so loud he initially thought it had burst his eardrum. “Kincaid? Can you hear us?”
Apparently someone noticed one of their implants was missing. He kept on walking.
“Kincaid!” It was Agent Cross. “You have endangered this entire operation. You will be fully prosecuted for interfering with a federal hostage situation.”
Ben kept walking.
“But since you’re in there, see if you can get some information out of him. We’ve got the fiber-optic camera working. We can see and hear you.”
Ben knelt beside Christina, his bare knees in the huge pool of blood. She could be dead already, he realized. He could be too late.
“I need to talk to her,” he told Bressler.
“No!” he shouted. “Not a word.”
“Please. I can’t let her lose consciousness.”
“I said, no!”
“Just let me ask her one question. One lousy question.”
Bressler wavered. “Fine. But that’s it. One question.”
Ben heard the crackling in his ear. Martinez this time. “Ask if there are any other hostages.”
Cross chirped in. “Ask if she’s seen any other weapons. Does he have a stash of ammo?”
Ben lifted Christina’s hand out of the blood, squeezed it between both of his hands, and asked, quietly, “Will you marry me?”
Christina’s eyelids fluttered. When she spoke, her voice sounded like rusty hinges. “What do you think I’ve been hanging around for all these years, you dunderhead? Of course I will. Now get me out of here.”
Ben saw the makeshift tourniquet tied around her upper thigh. A piece of her blouse. Damn she was tough. He tightened it, then wrapped his arms under her and lifted her up. He could tell the movement was causing her pain, but she kept it bottled up inside.
“Stay with us,” he murmured to her. “Just a little bit longer.”
“I’m watching you!” Marshall cried. “One false move and you’re dead!”
He carried Christina to the door, opened it. A huddle of agents stood just outside, their weapons drawn. “Stay back,” Ben said. “I gave the man my word.” He passed Christina to the nearest agent. Almost immediately, paramedics converged around her.
Ben went back inside for Marie Glancy. When he brought her body into the corridor, he heard Cross hiss, “We can go in behind you. Use you for cover.”
“If you do, we might lose Hazel.”
“If we don’t, we might lose you.”
Ben shook his head. “I made a promise. I’m sticking to it.” He glanced down at Christina, who was already on a stretcher and being taken away. “Take good care of her.” And then he went back inside the office. And closed the door behind him.
B en and Marshall talked and talked and talked. No matter how psychotic the man was, no matter how long he’d been off his medication, Ben was certain he wouldn’t try anything without provocation. In the first half hour, he watched as Marshall tired and his rage subsided, until he almost came to resemble the steady, wise Marshall Bressler whom Ben had known and admired these past months. After the first hour of talking, he convinced Marshall to let Hazel go, promising to remain as Marshall’s hostage. The more time passed, the more weary Marshall became. He still clutched the gun, but Ben could see his eyes growing hazy, his body weakening. Soon he would have to give in to the biological need for rest. And the more time passed, the less and less Marshall talked about Todd Glancy. And the more he talked about Delia Collins.
“She was a beautiful woman,” he said, with such sincerity that Ben found himself feeling sympathy for a man who was threatening to kill him.
“I know. I’ve seen the photos.”
“We met the first time she came to Todd’s office to try to enlist his support for that damn insurance bill. We hit it off immediately. I couldn’t believe my luck. Here was a beautiful, vivacious woman paying attention to a pathetic cripple. No woman had given me the time of day since my accident-until Delia. Of course we knew her time was limited, but somehow we managed to put that out of our minds. We kept dating-always on the sly so no one would accuse Todd of being improperly influenced-and one thing led to another. Fast. We were so in love. We could hardly keep our hands off each other.” He chuckled. “That idiot MacReady who stumbled in and saw Delia making love. She wasn’t with Todd. She was with me. Can you believe it? Me!”
“That’s what I figured,” Ben said. “Eventually. I should’ve seen it earlier.” Because Glancy, the control freak, would never have allowed a woman to be on top. Marshall, being crippled, had no choice but to lie on the floor. That’s why he didn’t get up when MacReady came in-he couldn’t.
“I did everything in my power to get Todd to support the bill. But nothing worked. Nothing. And you know why? Not because he didn’t believe in it. He did. But he wouldn’t support it. He was too dependent upon insurance companies for their campaign contributions. He wanted to remain viable-in the running for a national ticket. That was the worst of it. We like to pretend that this is a democracy, but it isn’t. It’s the big money, the special interests, the men pulling the strings behind the curtains, they’re the ones who decide what laws are passed and what laws aren’t. They decide which candidates to support, which candidates get on the ballot. At best, we get to choose between two candidates who have been selected for us by opposing special interests-and even then the political discourse is determined by campaign contributions. Once the candidates are in office, they’re so beholden to their financiers that the whole idea of ‘government by the people’ becomes a joke.” He clenched his teeth tightly together. “You talk about your vampires. These are the real vampires, the genuine article, the monsters who take our public trust and suck it dry, who start out caring about the world and end up only caring about reelection.”
Ben tried to understand. “So Glancy killed the bill Delia wanted. Still-she was terminal. Todd Glancy didn’t kill her.”
Bressler looked at Ben, a stony expression on his face. “About six months after Delia died, clinical tests by a team of researchers in Denmark showed that in some cases, an experimental interferon-based cocktail could slow the spread of ovarian cancer, or in some cases induce a full remission. The FDA eventually approved it for general use in the United States. Delia wanted that treatment. But because it hadn’t been approved at the time, Delia’s insurance company wouldn’t pay for it. And since our American health care system only provides health to those who can pay for it, her sole recourse was Congress. And because Todd Glancy cared more about his own reelection than a bill that could save lives-Delia Collins died. My sweet perfect Delia died.” His voice was like gravel, racked with sorrow. “My life was over. What chance did I have of ever finding a love like that?”
“What chance does any of us have?” Ben responded quietly, wondering what was going on outside, in a hospital room somewhere, with a beautiful strawberry-blond patient. “So you decided to take revenge.”
“I bided my time, waiting for the right moment. Todd is a careful man; he doesn’t take many chances. But when he started up with that intern, I knew I had my opportunity. I was just going to expose him, create a scandal, originally. Then I thought of something better.”
“Framing him for murder.”
He nodded. “After I first conceived the idea, I became obsessed by it. Spent all my spare time thinking of ways to pull it off. Brought the knife to work, even before I knew what I was going to do with it. I couldn’t help myself. That man’s evil was so enormous I couldn’t get it out of my mind.”
More likely he was building up an immunity to the antipsychotic drugs that were supposed to keep him under control, Ben thought. After so many years, their effectiveness must have diminished.
“And then one day, the perfect opportunity fell into my lap. I found Veronica in the hideaway-as I told you before, thanks to the Americans with Disabilities Act, this entire building is wheelchair-accessible. She was making time with that living filth-the one they call the Sire. I heard what they said, what they did. Her vampire lover took the money, had tawdry sex with her, sucked her blood, gave her that drug, and left her for dead. But the amazing thing is-she didn’t die. Veronica was stronger than any of us imagined. She might’ve pulled through-if I hadn’t intervened.
“I got the knife and cut her across the shoulder to obscure the bite mark her boyfriend had left behind, and to make a wound so large she couldn’t possibly recover. I flipped her upside down, just for dramatic effect and to make her blood drain faster; my legs might be crippled, but my arms are quite strong-I work out, remember? I was careful not to get blood on me or my chair. And then I left. With all the press we had streaming around the building that day, I knew it was just a matter of time till some snoop discovered the body. Plus I’d spotted Shandy eavesdropping on them-though I made sure she didn’t see me. After that video, it wasn’t hard to deduce who would be the cops’ primary suspect.” He paused. “What put you on to me?”
“I eventually realized you were the only one who could’vegotten that big knife into the building,” Ben explained. “Security is so tight I couldn’t get in with a metal button sewn to my shirttail. But I bet you could get almost anything in. Everyone knows you’re going to set off the alarm. Because you’re riding around in a wheelchair.”
Bressler smiled a little. “At first they made some effort to search me, examine the chair. But it was so hard-someone had to hold me while they sent the chair through separately, and I acted like it really hurt, and after a few months…” He shrugged. “Well, what threat could I possibly be? I’m just a harmless old cripple, right? And even if they had patted me down-which they didn’t-they wouldn’t have found the knife. Just like they didn’t find this gun.”
“Because you put them in the compartment under the armrest of your chair,” Ben guessed. “Very bold of you to show me that, way back when. I tried to call Marie before I came over here, to verify my recollection, because I remembered you telling me she’d had the chair specially designed for you. I’m sure she never imagined you’d use it to… well.” To smuggle in the gun you used to shoot her.
“Yeah.” Marshall took a deep breath. His eyelids fluttered; Ben could see he was barely able to keep them open. “You about ready to go, Ben?”
“I’d appreciate it. Those FBI guys outside must be going nuts. And-I’d really like to see how Christina is doing. And I wouldn’t mind putting my clothes back on, either.”
Marshall nodded. “I heard what you said, when you carried Christina out of here. Reminded me of Delia. How we were. While it lasted.” His eyes filled with tears. He laid down the gun. “I loved her so much, Ben. So much. Did you ever love someone like that? Love them so much-and then lose them?”
“Yes. I mean, she didn’t die, but-it hurt just the same.”
“You’re too young.”
“No one’s too young,” Ben replied. “And my father died, several years ago. That hurt, too. And we didn’t even get along. He thought I was wasting my life, that I’d been a traitor to him. But when he died-I couldn’t handle it. Probably should’ve gone into therapy. Instead I ran off to Tulsa and tried to leave my family, my past, far behind.” He paused. “It didn’t work. Running isn’t the answer.”
“No.” Marshall looked up at him, almost smiling. “And I suppose taking hostages isn’t, either.”
Ben tilted his head to one side but said nothing.
“You go check on your girl, Ben,” Marshall said, still weeping. “And you take good care of her, understand? Remember-every day the two of you have together is a gift. A rare and precious gift. Every single day.”
“I won’t forget.” Ben took the gun and motioned to the FBI officers he knew were watching through the fiber-optic cable. “Thank you, Marshall.”
“Thank you for listening. If-if my Delia were still around, I think she’d take a shine to you, Ben.”
“She is still around,” Ben said. He laid his hand softly on the side of Marshall’s face, wiping away the tears. “And thanks to you, she always will be.”
“W ell, I gotta hand it to you, Chrissy,” Loving said. “You’ve worn some crazy getups in the past. But this one takes the cake.”
“Ha, ha,” she said, with simulated acerbity. She was wearing a hospital gown, a thin pale blue linen number. “I think the floral pattern goes well with my eyes.”
They were all standing around her hospital bed-Ben, Jones, Loving, and Lucille. The small private room was festooned with flowers, gifts, and a host of greeting cards dangling from a banner stretched across the head of the bed.
“Wanted you to meet my new, umm, friend,” Loving said, gesturing to Lucille. He winked. “I thought the two redheads in my life should meet. She was a big help to the investigation.”
“Aw, he did all the hard stuff,” Lucille said, blushing. “All I did was dress up like a floozy and play the tease.”
“Sounds like hard work to me,” Christina said. She turned to Ben. “Has there been any word about Marshall? And Marie?”
“She’s going to pull through,” Ben replied. “It’ll take a while, but the docs say she’ll make a full recovery. I’m amazed-but I guess I shouldn’t be. She’s a tough woman. And Marshall is being treated by some of the best mental health specialists in the country. Todd is paying the bills.”
“No criminal charges?”
“Not at this time. I doubt he could be found competent to stand trial. I just hope he gets the help he needs to recover the man he once was.”
The phone rang. “Would you get that for me?” Christina asked.
“What?” Ben said. “Just because you got a little bullet wound to the leg, you can’t answer your own phone?”
“I could. But I’m currently wearing a gown that exposes my rear end.”
“Well, we don’t want that,” Loving said, rushing to the phone.
There weren’t many times in his life when Ben saw his strapping investigator at a loss for words or action, but on this occasion he seemed to be lacking both.
“Loving?” Christina said. She jabbed him gently on the side. “Is it for me?”
Slowly he shrugged off his stupor and found some small measure of animation. “No. It’s for Ben.”
“Really?” Ben frowned. “Who is it?”
He swallowed. “The governor.”
“The governor? Of what?”
“Of Oklahoma,” Loving said, eyes bulging. “And he wants to talk to you!”
Ben took the phone. Loving and Lucille excused themselves, saying they wanted to check on Beatrice.
“Congratulations on a job well done, son.” Ben immediately recognized the voice of his state’s top politician. “Glad it all worked out and your assistant is going to be all right.”
“Partner,” Ben said, still dumbfounded. “She’s my partner.”
“Right, right. Listen, I don’t want you to feel like you’re getting the bum’s rush, but I have exactly three minutes until my next meeting, and this has to be dealt with, and I wanted to feel you out before I made any public announcements.”
“Public announcements? About-me?”
“Are you kidding, pilgrim? I guess you’ve been in DC. Back here-you’re the local hero.”
“I am?”
“Even The Oklahoman has had some nice things to say about you and, given your political leanings, that’s nothing short of a miracle.”
“I didn’t know I had political leanings.”
“You handled this case with class, and that closing argument you gave was brilliant. Moved me to tears when I read it in the paper. And then when it turned out you were actually right and Glancy wasn’t guilty-of murder, anyway-that was even better.”
“I still-don’t-”
“And then that heroic rescue of your girlfriend. Marvelous stuff. Marvelous. Ballsiest thing I’ve heard of in my life.”
“It was really no big deal.”
“Well, the papers are talking about it like you were James Bond. Your approval ratings are sky-high. And not just with women. Wish to God I had ratings like that. Your fame may be fleeting, but I still wouldn’t mind leaching a little positive spin off it. Which leads to the reason for my call.”
Ben was baffled. The governor was talking fast-much too fast for Ben to process what he was saying, much less anticipate what was coming next.
“There are some preliminary questions I’m required to ask,” the governor continued. “Did you vote for me in the last election?”
“Well…”
“Didn’t think so. Are you even a member of my party?”
“Well…”
“My staff was right. And you have no political experience at all, correct?”
“I was briefly at the DA’s office but… no, not really.”
“What the hell. Part of my stump speech has been that blather about overcoming petty partisan concerns and seeking out excellence. And it’s only for a year.” He paused. “You seem like a hell of a good guy, Kincaid, and the public loves you. Want to be our next senator?”
Ben’s jaw dropped with such alacrity he was surprised there was no thudding sound. “Can-can you do that?”
“Can I? I have no choice. Constitution requires it. Glancy has resigned; I have to appoint a substitute to fill his remaining term. So what about it, Ben? Are you my man?”
A thousand thoughts ran through Ben’s brain at once. “Can-can I think about it a little while?” He glanced at Christina, who was sitting in the bed staring at him with an extremely puzzled expression. “Talk to some friends and… associates?”
“Of course you can. Well, you’ve got till six o’clock. Then we have to either announce or move on to someone else.”
“I’ll call you back as soon as I can.” He took the governor’s number and hung up.
“What was that all about?” Christina asked.
“Tell you in a minute. There’s something else I want to discuss first.”
“Ben! Don’t be such a tease! Was it really the governor?”
“Yup. But-” He paused, shifting awkwardly from one leg to the next. “You know, Christina… back at Glancy’s office, when you were hurt…”
She leaned forward a bit. “Yes?”
“I know you were half out of your head and probably weren’t aware-”
“I heard every word you said.”
Ben swallowed. “You did?”
“Damn straight. And I haven’t forgotten, either.”
He looked down at her, the billowing red hair he had become so fond of, the deep blue eyes, the adorable freckles. He couldn’t imagine getting through a day without her. And didn’t want to try. “I know I’ve-I’ve-never really said-”
She reached out and took his hand. “You don’t have to, Ben. I already know.”
“Really? Really?” He laughed with relief, and she laughed, and then they were both laughing, and then all at once he crouched beside her, picked up a pair of scissors, and snipped off her hospital ID bracelet.
“What on earth are you doing?” she said. “You’re going to get thrown out of here.”
“A woman like you deserves jewelry of a higher order,” he replied. He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a two-inch-square felt-covered box. And opened it.
Under the bright fluorescent lighting, the diamond sparkled with a thousand colors.