only way he gets something is by giving something in return. From our perspective, we want to discuss releasing the first hostage. And because of his injury, it needs to be Greenfield. If he does that in good faith, then we’ll agree to give him something within reason in return.”
Garcia glanced at Gemma, who read his tacit order loud and clear. She picked up her notes and pen and stood, offering Rowland her chair. Taking off her headphones and leaving them on the table, she went out into the main room, grabbed a spare chair, and pushed it into the vault, setting up a station for herself at the end of the table between Rowland and Taylor.
Garcia sat down and pulled his pad of paper and pen into position before him. “I’ll start the call. I know already we’re going to hit a major bump right away because he’s going to want to see you in person, and that simply isn’t going to happen.”
“If Charles’s life is at stake—”
“It will be more at stake if you’re standing there. If he wants to kill the first deputy mayor to make a point to you, what better way than right in front of you? This is us compromising—putting you in touch with him in a safe manner. He can’t harm you over the phone line. Yes, he has hostages, but we won’t be adding to the list of victims by sending in anyone but the A-Team. If you don’t agree with me, we’ll get the chief on the phone, and he’ll back me up.”
Rowland sat back heavily in the chair, reluctance coming off him in waves. “He would.”
“Then let’s get this started. Once I get him talking to you, I’ll stay on the line and will advise you as we go along. You’re not in this alone. We’ll all be here. McFarland, pass me a headset with a mic and then connect us to the mayor’s office.”
“Yes, sir.” McFarland handed Garcia a mic’d headset, waiting until he had it in place; then he dialed the call into the mayor’s office.
The phone rang twice before it was picked up. “Are you sending him in?”
Garcia held up a hand as Rowland opened his mouth to respond. “I have the mayor here with me. He has agreed to talk to you.”
“Then send him in and we’ll talk.”
Garcia’s gaze flicked up to meet Gemma’s.
Here we go.
“I have him here on the phone and he’s ready to talk to you.”
“That’s not what we agreed on.” The man’s words held a combination of fury and suspicion.
“Sure it is.” Garcia tapped an index finger beside a line in his notes. “I have it right here. You said, ‘I want the mayor.’ I found him and have him here for you.”
“I meant in person. You fucking knew that.”
His control is slipping.
But Garcia’s mild tone never wavered. “You never said you wanted to see him in person. And you know I can’t do that. The brass would never allow it. Getting him on the phone is a compromise.”
“I’ll give you a compromise.”
In the background came the sound of a scuffle, followed by the cry of a woman. “No! Don’t! I’ll do whatever you want.”
The bottom dropped out of Gemma’s stomach and she leaned down to hurriedly scratch out a note and then shoved it toward Garcia: Not Willan. Picked someone disposable. Careful.
Garcia nodded. “I need you to stand down.” His words were calm and measured, only his clenched fist betraying his tension at the chaos they heard.
Another terrified cry made Gemma scan her notes. Only three women: Clara, Janina, and Elizabeth. Who did he have? Her voice sounded young, but without more details about the hostages, it could be any of the three.
“Why would I do that?” It was a snarl. “I gave you what you wanted and you fucked me over.”
Garcia pinned Rowland with a sharp look and pointed first at him and then at the phone.
“No, he didn’t.” Rowland’s voice came out with a slight tremor. “He didn’t.” This time, his words were steadier. “I’m right here.”
“Mayor Rowland?”
“Yes, you asked to speak to me, and I’m here. You have my undivided attention, Mr. . . .”
Another cry, followed by a thump, and the sound of harsh, broken breathing came through the line, followed by a low murmur of voices.
Gemma pictured male hands pushing away a woman’s slender form, and her gasp of pain and fear as she overbalanced to tumble to the floor.
“That’s not important. I need to talk to you. You need to understand.”
“Help me understand. Then we can talk about releasing your hostages.”
“Come in here.”
“I can’t—”
“If you want to save lives, you will.” The hard edge was back in his words.
“I’m happy to talk to you like this. Tell me about what has you—”
“No! Garcia, you had a chance, now you’re done.”
A scream of terror stabbed across the line, making Gemma wince in pain.
Then silence as he cut the connection.
CHAPTER 8
“Get him back!” Garcia ordered.
McFarland was already dialing. But the phone simply rang and rang. Voice mail. Again. Voice mail.
After the third attempt, McFarland looked up. “He’s not picking up. On purpose. He knows it’s us.”
“Of course, he does.” Garcia pressed his balled fists to his temples. “Goddamn it, we need eyes in there. He could be killing them all and we’d have no idea.”
“That won’t happen unless Sanders and his team go in,” Taylor said, his voice calm.
“Given how the last five minutes have gone down, you know he’s going to push hard for that.” McFarland punched redial again and they all listened to the ringing again and again.
“We’re going to need proof of life again.” Garcia’s tone was sour.
“But not from you,” Gemma said. “Sir, let me talk to him.”
Garcia’s head snapped up. “You?”
“Yes. Your relationship with him is over. As far as he’s concerned, he fulfilled his end of the deal and you hung him out to dry.” She held out a hand to forestall his protest. “You know you did what you had to do, and so do I. But he’s not going to see it that way. We need to start over with him. Sometimes it’s the second negotiator who makes a better connection.”
