Hostage - Страница 21

Marion walked through the grounds, hearing music and voices. Cars were turning into the parking lots, men and women still arriving from work; an older woman was methodically swimming laps, the pool's lone occupant; charcoal grills were smoking on several of the patios, filling the air with the smells of burning flesh.

Marion circled the building with Talley's unit. Because the buildings were of older construction (Marion guessed they had been built in the seventies), the gas meters, electric meters, and junction boxes for both telephones and cable TV were clustered together at an out-of-the-way spot opposite the parking lots. Any individual security systems would be junctioned with the telephone lines. Marion was pleased to see that the building had no alarms. Marion was neither surprised nor shocked; being a sleepy small town so far from LA, the greatest security the condo association might buy would be having a rent-a-cop cruise the parking lots every hour. If that.

Marion found Talley's unit, let himself through the gate to the front door. He clenched his jaw so as not to laugh; the patio and door were hidden by a six-foot privacy fence. He couldn't have asked for anything easier. He rang the bell twice, then knocked, already knowing that no one was home; the house was dark. He pulled on latex gloves, took out his pry bar and pick, then set to work. Four minutes later, the deadbolt slipped. Eighty seconds after that, he let himself in.

'Hello?'

He didn't expect an answer, and none came. Marion shut the door behind him, but did not lock it.

The kitchen was to the left, a small dining room to the right. Sliding glass doors offered a view of the patio. Directly ahead was a large living room with a fireplace. Marion looked for a desk or work space, but saw none. He unlatched the glass doors, then crossed the living room to open the largest window. He would relock everything if he left at his leisure, but for now he arranged fast exits. Howell did not want Talley dead, so Marion would try not to kill him even if Talley surprised him.

Marion climbed steep stairs to a second-floor landing with doors leading to a bathroom and two other rooms, the room to his right the master bedroom. He turned on the light. Marion expected to search every closet and drawer in the house for something that could be used as leverage, but there it was as soon as he entered, right there, waiting. It happened that way, sometimes.

A desk rested against the far wall, scattered with papers and bills and receipts, but that isn't what caught Marion's eye. Five photographs waited at the back of the desk, Talley with a woman and girl, the woman and Talley always the same, the girl at different ages.

Marion kneeled, brought the frame to his face.

A woman. A girl.

A wife. A daughter.

Marion considered the possibilities.

CHAPTER 9

Friday, 8:06 P.M.

TALLEY

The Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department Crisis Response Team came around the corner like a military convoy. A plain Sheriff's sedan led the file, followed by a bulky Mobile Command Post vehicle that looked like a bread truck on steroids. The Sheriffs wouldn't need Mrs. Peña's home; the van contained its own power generator, a bathroom, uplinks for the Intelligence Officer's computers, and a communications center for command and control coordination. It also had a Mr. Coffee. The Sheriff's SWAT team followed in two large GMC Suburbans with a second van containing their weapons and support gear. As the convoy stopped, the SWAT cops un-assed, already geared out in dark green tactical uniforms. They hustled to the second van, where a senior sergeant-supervisor passed out radios and firearms. Four radio cars followed the tactical vehicles with uniformed deputies who clustered around their own sergeant-supervisor. Talley heard a change in the helicopters' rotor turbulence as they repositioned to broadcast the Sheriffs' arrival. If Rooney was watching television, his stress level would soar. During periods like this the possibility of the subject panicking and taking action increased. Talley hurried to the lead car.

A tall, slender African-American officer climbed out from behind the wheel as a blond officer with thinning hair climbed from the passenger side.

Talley put out his hand.

'Jeff Talley. I'm the chief here. Are you the team commander?'

The tall man flashed a relaxed smile.

'Will Maddox. I'll be the primary negotiator. This is Chuck Ellison, my secondary. The commander would be Captain Martin. She's back in the van.'

As Talley shook their hands, Ellison winked.

'She likes to ride in the van instead of with us negotiators. Lots of pretty lights in there.'

'Chuck.'

Ellison looked innocent.

'Something I said?'

The energy on the street changed dramatically; Talley had felt that he was hanging from a ledge by his fingers, but now an organized military weight was settling over York Estates. A brilliant pool of white light swept over them on its way along the convoy. All three of them held up their hands to cut the glare. The different teams breaking up into their components with well-rehearsed efficiency felt comforting. Talley no longer felt alone. In a matter of minutes, this man Will Maddox would take the responsibility of other lives from his shoulders.

Talley said, 'Mr. Maddox, I am damned glad to see you here.'

'Will. Mr. Maddox is my wife.'

Ellison laughed loudly.

Maddox smiled absently at the lame joke, glancing at the mouth of the cul-de-sac a half-block away.

'The barricade up there?'

'Up at the end. I've got two men directly out front, three men spread across the property on either side, and another three beyond the back wall on Flanders Road. We have two people on each entrance here into York and three with the media. We could use more with the media right away before they start leaking through the development.'

'You can brief the Captain on those kinds of things, but there are a couple of points that I need to hit before we get into all that.'

'Go.'

Talley walked with them back toward the control van to find the Captain. He knew from his own experience that Maddox and Ellison would want a virtual replay of his conversations with Rooney.

'It's you who's had direct contact with the subjects?'

'Yes. Only me.'

'Okay. Are the innocents under an immediate threat?'

'I don't believe so. The last contact I had with Rooney was about twenty minutes ago. Way I left it, he's in there thinking that he has outs both for Kim's murder and the attempt on the officer. You know about that?'

While inbound, the Sheriffs had received a radio briefing on the events leading up to the barricade situation. Maddox confirmed that they knew the bare bones.

'Okay. Turns out Kim had a gun, and more than one of the subjects besides Rooney fired upon the officer. I left him thinking that a sharp lawyer could cut a deal on both counts.'

'Has he made any demands?'

Talley told him about Rooney demanding that the perimeter be pulled back and the deal that they'd made, the hostage names for the pullback. Getting the first concession was often the most difficult, and how it was gotten could set the tone for everything that was to follow.

Maddox walked with his hands in his pockets, his expression knowing and thoughtful.

'Good job, Chief. Sounds like we're in pretty good shape. You used to be with LAPD SWAT, weren't you?'

Talley looked more closely at Maddox.

'That's right. Have we met?'

'I was on LAPD as a uniform before I went with the Sheriffs, which put us there about the same time. When we got the call here today, your name rang a bell. Talley. You did the nursery school.'

Talley felt uncomfortable whenever someone mentioned the nursery school.

'That was a long time ago.'

'That had to be something. I don't think I would've had the balls.'

'It wasn't balls. I just couldn't think of anything else.'

On a bright spring morning in the Fairfax area of Los Angeles, a lone gunman invaded a Jewish day-care center, taking an adult female teacher and three toddlers hostage. When Talley arrived, he found the gunman confused, incoherent, and rapidly dissociating. Fearing that the subject had suffered a psychotic break and the children were in imminent danger, Talley offered himself in trade for the children; this was against direct orders from his crisis team captain and in violation of LAPD policy. Talley approached the day-care center unarmed and unprotected, surrendering himself to the gunman, who simultaneously released the children. As the gunman stood in the door with one arm hooked around Talley's neck and a 9mm Smith amp; Wesson pistol pressed to Talley's head, Talley's best friend during those days, Neal Craimont, dropped the subject with a sixty-yard cortical brain shot, the 5.56mm hypervelocity bullet passing only four inches to the left of Talley's own brain stem. The newspapers had made Talley out to be a hero, but Talley had considered the events of that morning a failure. He had been the primary negotiator, and for a negotiator, it is always a failure when someone dies. Success only comes with life.

Maddox seemed to sense Talley's discomfort. He dropped the subject.

When they reached the rear of the command van, a woman wearing a green tactical uniform stepped from among a knot of sergeants to meet them. She had a cut jaw, smart black eyes, and short blond hair.

'Is this Chief Talley?'

Maddox nodded.

'This is him.'

She put out her hand. Now closer, Talley saw the captain's insignia on her collar. She had a tough grip.

'Laura Martin. Captain. I'm the field commander in charge of the crisis response team.'