Agent Kavanaugh had only been gone for a minute or so, and I was finally starting to come down from the most recent in the daylong series of adrenalin dumps my body had been experiencing.
I looked behind myself, first over my left shoulder; and then over my right, just to make sure I wasn’t about to touch something that I shouldn’t; then I leaned back against the wall of the van. This was no easy task considering the bulk of the flak vest I was trussed up in. If I hadn’t thought Kavanaugh would throw a fit, I would have taken it off before she returned.
The metal bench I was seated on wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it beat standing. I gave a quick glance down its length and postulated that I just might be able to stretch out on it if I positioned myself correctly. After a healthy measure of seconds spent considering the idea, I decided I had better not.
It seemed ironic to me that I had just been sitting here discussing the mental state of Eldon Porter with an FBI agent because in reality, right now my own psyche was as fragile as spun glass. I was rafting on emotional whitewater, and my oar was lodged under a boulder two hundred yards behind me.
On the one hand, I was relieved that Porter was holed up in the building because at least now we knew where he was. On the flip side, I feared for the safety of his hostage, not to mention the overwhelming guilt I felt because that hostage was Star.
Then there was everything in between. I was jittery, disgusted, sad, excited, angry, and virtually any other emotion you could think of, all at once. I was struggling with the sudden shifts from one to the next as I would run through the full range, only to find myself repeating it all over again in the very next moment.
The one thing that remained constant was the fact that I was just flat out exhausted.
I tilted my head back and tried to relax. I knew Agent Kavanaugh would probably be back any moment, and as soon as she was, the questions would start all over again. Her story had impressed upon me the importance of this interview, but I was still dealing with my overwhelming impatience.
What my irrational brain wanted me to do was rush into the building and bring about an end to Eldon Porter once and for all. What my logical brain wanted for me was to go to sleep. The few hours I’d managed to abscond with earlier had held me over for a while, but they were nothing more than a stopgap. I needed to be unconscious for a while-a long while-but I was afraid that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon.
Drained as I was, I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep even if I tried. The headache that had started me on this odyssey was still in place and stronger than ever. It was going to be a while yet before I got my reprieve.
I found myself denying the diametrically opposed ideas being tossed about by the hemispheres of my brain and concentrating instead on the events of the past twenty-odd hours in search of answers to yet unasked questions. I was methodically trying to remember minute details of the day, unimportant and utterly mundane but details nonetheless. However, each time I would happen upon a gem to grasp, my overtaxed brain would release the previous tidbit and send it floating away into dark obscurity. The whole exercise quickly turned into a game of “keep away,” where I was the odd man out, desperately chasing after things that I remembered and then promptly forgot again.
I allowed myself to slouch lower then shoved my hands into my coat pockets for lack of anyplace else to put them. My right knuckles immediately thumped against something hard. I pondered the sensation absently for a moment and then wrapped my fingers around whatever it was and pulled it out. I’m not sure what my clouded brain was expecting, but it was only my cell phone. I vaguely recalled someone giving me my charred coat at the hospital, which must have been when I recovered the device. I guessed that Felicity must have transferred it to this jacket when we arrived home.
The sight of the phone in my hand renewed a little hope. It reminded me that I wasn’t as cut off from the outside as I had been feeling. I punched the power button and waited as the lights behind the dialing keys winked on, then the display flashed my number across the screen. I automatically thumbed out the pattern of Felicity’s cell number that my hand had memorized then hit send and put the phone to my ear.
I listened as the ring tone sounded at the other end a trio of times before ending abruptly in the middle of the fourth. The half-buzz was followed by a tired but familiar Celtic-patterned voice.
“Aye, Rowan?” Felicity asked.
“Yeah, honey, it’s me,” I replied. “Where are you?”
“We’re at the hospital. University down on Kingshighway.”
“Good hospital,” I murmured. “So how are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “What about you then?”
“Tired and achy,” I admitted. “But still in one piece.”
“Aye, you’d best stay that way.”
“I don’t think I have much choice,” I told her. “The FBI has me sitting in the back of a panel van trussed up in a bulletproof vest with an agent right outside the door.”
“Good for them,” she answered. “Remind me to send a thank you card.”
I ignored her jibe. “How’s Constance?”
“Aye, it looks like she’ll be fine. The doctor didn’t want to tell me anything at first, but I convinced him I was her sister.”
“And he fell for that?” I asked. “You two don’t look anything alike.”
“Aye, and what’s your point then? We’re twin sisters from different parents.”
“Yeah, sure,” I half chuckled. “I can see that.”
“Anyway,” she continued. “She has a broken nose, a concussion, two broken ribs, and a fractured wrist. Most of it came from the airbag they think.”
“Guess it could’ve been worse if there wasn’t an airbag.”
“Aye.”
“So what about you?” I asked. “Did the doctor check you over?”
“Aye, I’m fine, bumps and bruises, nothing more. I’m mostly worried about you and Ben.”
“I’m good,” I told her. “Ben’s hand is really messed up though. Last time I saw him there was a paramedic looking at it for him. I suspect he’ll need a trip to the hospital before it’s all over. Have you called Allison?”
“Aye. She was frantic at first, but you know how she is. She’s a nurse. She’s used to this kind of thing, especially out of Ben.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So what IS going on there?” my wife asked, her voice turning serious as she left the chitchat behind. “I’ve been watching the television, but they aren’t saying much.”
“Well, they got me here in time to appease Porter,” I replied. “For the moment anyway. Right now, I’m sitting in the back of a van, like I said, and they keep interviewing me.”
“What for?”
“Looking for angles to use while negotiating with him.”
“Aye, do they actually believe they can negotiate with that monster, then?”
“Yeah, they do.”
“What about you?” she asked after a pause. “Do you think they can?”
“No,” I almost whispered. “No, I don’t.”
We both fell silent, neither of us willing to press forward with the conversation but neither willing to say goodbye either. The digitally reproduced sounds of each other’s breathing issuing from the phones became a tenuous connection between us-distant and artificial, but better than nothing.
My fearful thoughts combined with the hollowness in the pit of my stomach, and I became the first to break the lull. “You know he’s going to kill her no matter what, don’t you?”
“Row… Don’t say that,” Felicity appealed softly.
“He will,” I continued. “I can feel it.”
“Don’t you go and do something stupid, now,” she said. “Okay?”
I didn’t reply.
Her voice came at me again, “Rowan? Answer me.”
“Yeah,” I finally said. “Nothing stupid.”
“Caorthann… ” Her voice was ringed by sadness and filled with resignation as she whispered the Gaelic pet name.
“Really, sweetheart,” I assured her. “Back of van, FBI, cops everywhere. I don’t think there’s anything I CAN do other than sit here.”
“Aye, but I know you.”
“They have a chapel there?” I asked, trying to divert her attention.
“I’m sure they do, why?”
“Maybe you should go light a candle for Star,” I offered.
Her reply told me that my gambit didn’t work as planned. “Aye, I think you mean I should go light a candle for you.”
There was no suitable reply that wouldn’t either confirm her fears or force me to lie to her. Remaining silent would just do the same. I said the only thing I could, “Maybe for both of us then.”
“Aye,” she whispered.
I knew that unchecked, we would continue to sit there clinging to the cellular thread that now linked us together in the physical world. As much as I wanted to give in to that comfort, I made the decision that I knew she wouldn’t.
“I’ve got to go, honey,” I said. “They’re going to want to start asking me some more questions in just a minute.”
“I love you, Rowan.”
I replied softly, “Yeah. I love you too.”
I pulled the cell phone away from my ear then allowed my hand to slide down across my chest and fall into my lap. Without looking, I depressed the end button and disconnected the line. Closing my eyes, I left my head tilted back and began wondering about the wisdom of having made the call.
I wanted to be certain that she was okay, and I wanted to get an update on Constance but that information had come at a price. I wasn’t foolish enough to think that Felicity believed for a minute that I would be standing idly by at this scene. Not with Star’s life resting in the hands of Eldon Porter. I was convinced she hadn’t even believed that when she made the decision to stay behind with Agent Mandalay. But she had come to terms with it.
My phone call may have served to do nothing more than open a wound. It very simply could have been an inadvertent reminder of the dangerous uncertainty that I faced-and my melancholy, a possible harbinger that Ben’s promise to her could well be broken. Dwelling on the fact officially made me feel worse than I had before I dialed the number.
I breathed in a deep lungful of the chilly air then tilted my head back forward and glanced over at the door on the rear of the van. It had been several minutes since Agent Kavanaugh had left to hand over the information to the rest of the HNT. Considering that I hadn’t given over anything of much relevance, at least in my eyes, I was beginning to worry. Something was taking far too long.
With the momentary diversion from my migraine gone by the wayside, the pain had returned full force, hammering away even harder than before. As I sat there, I felt a creepy wave of gooseflesh climb up my back until it reached the base of my neck. I shivered with a chill as the sensation traveled back down my spine then spread out through my body. I fell into an eerie state of semi-catatonic nothingness that made me feel sick to my stomach.
I jumped with a start and caught an outbound breath in my throat as my cell phone began pealing out the William Tell Overture in dull electronic tones. When my muscles tensed, the various bruises I had acquired reported in sharply then settled back into dull aches with unwavering loyalty to the task. I forced my body to relax and rolled my head as I allowed myself to continue exhaling.
“Oh yeah, you’re real stable, aren’t you?” I chastised myself aloud.
I turned the face of the phone up and inspected the screen, fully expecting to see the words “Felicity Cell” in a blocky, liquid crystal font. Instead, I was greeted with the words “New Number” and a string of unfamiliar digits.
I stared at the display for a moment as the refrain began bleeping out again and then punched the center button and brought the device upward.
“Rowan Gant,” I said.
“It is about time you turned on your phone, Gant.” Eldon Porter’s voice issued from the speaker. “I have been trying to reach you for almost an hour now.”
“So sue me, asshole,” I replied.
“I don’t think so,” he replied. “I would rather just kill you.”
“Same here,” I shot back. “So shouldn’t you be talking to the hostage negotiator?”
“Agent McCoy bores me,” he remarked. “All give and take, I did for you, now you do for me. It is really very obvious that he does not see the point behind all of this.”
Each sentence chilled me even more than the frigid weather outside. His voice had returned to the flat, rehearsed tenor I had discussed with Agent Kavanaugh earlier. His sentences were overtly devoid of contractions and spoken with an air of self-anointed superiority. There was a purposeful calm about him-a frightening preparedness that struck me like a cold blade directly into my heart.
“And that point is?” I asked.
“I think you are well aware of that, Gant,” he replied.
“Yeah, just checking,” I quipped.
I knew from his tone there were literally no words from me that would keep him at bay. Not now. Not anymore. We were moving forward to the next phase.
I was wondering why the HNT hadn’t severed the connection by now. It took a few seconds for me to remember that this was the first time he had ever contacted me on my own cell, so it was a line they wouldn’t be monitoring.
Still, they knew about the two different cell phones he was using, so they should be on top of it, unless… A random idea flitted in from the left side of my brain to give me pause. If he had two cell phones, why couldn’t he have three? If he did, then chances were the HNT had no idea this call was even taking place.
“Well, whether he sees your point or not, he’s the only one who can negotiate with you,” I said. “So maybe I should just go get him.”
“I would not do that if I were you, Gant,” he answered coldly. “My negotiations with them are finished. This is between the two of us and no one else.”
My heart thumped in my throat, and I felt my adrenal gland begin pumping again. The waiting game had reached its end whether the FBI liked it or not, and it was all about to be over before they could turn to the next page in the playbook.
I was wrong. This wasn’t moving into the next phase. It was jumping directly to the end game.
I forced myself upward and barely missed clanging the back of my head on an equipment rack as I stumbled. I twisted to the side and started moving toward the back of the van. Agent Kavanaugh had said there would be someone right outside. My mind began racing, searching for a way to get that agent’s attention without tipping off Porter.
I realized I had to keep him talking, so I said the first thing that popped into my head. “So what did you call me for, Eldon?”
“I have a question for you, Gant,” he said.
“What’s that, Eldon?”
What I got back in reply was nothing short of a lit match pressed firmly against my already short fuse.
“How loud do you think I will be able to make your wife scream?”