against a tactical assault,” Jolie said.
Spading added, “His actions aren’t that of a man getting ready to give up.”
“His actions also aren’t escalating,” Dace countered. “He hasn’t been violent. Hasn’t made threats for a couple hours. We’ve got no reason to rush this.”
But they were being rushed. Fenholt’s time limit hung over their heads, the minutes ticking away. Jolie glanced at her watch and reached for the phone. They couldn’t make progress when they weren’t engaged in negotiations.
Dawson returned just then. His face, usually so impassive, was set in hard grim lines. “Establishing contact again? Good. Tell him the vehicle is going to be gassed and running, pulled up closer to the back door.”
“What?” Dace exchanged a look with Jolie. “Why? What’s the rush? We’ve got over an hour left on Fenholt’s timeline. The HT is still talking. There’s no reason to deliberately draw him out now.”
“You know the procedure. Just work the subject.”
Jolie felt the frustration coming off Dace in waves, but concentrated only on the ringing phone. Communication between command and HNT unit was a sensitive process at the best of times. As negotiators they had to know enough about what was going on to sound knowledgeable to the gunman. But it was dangerous for them to be apprised of tactical plans. There was too much risk that they’d say something to alert the hostage taker.
That was hard enough to accept when she trusted the people in command. That wasn’t the case here. Foreboding knotted her chest.
“Jolie.” The HT’s familiar voice sounded.
“John. How are things going in there? Have you given any more thought to my earlier suggestion?”
“About coming out? I’ve done nothing but think about getting out of here since this morning, so yeah, I guess you can say I’ve been thinking about it. Been taking precautions in here, too. Just in case some of those cops get anxious to get inside.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
“It’s good to hear, and it’s not that I don’t trust you, Jolie. Really.” His tone was sardonic. “Let’s just call my measures a little extra insurance.”
“Tell me about what you’re doing, John.”
“Nothing more than a little rearranging. No one’s been hurt. But the hostages are now tied up and lying under the windows and across the doorways. Do you know what that means, Jolie?”
She did. The measure guaranteed that a SWAT entry would injure hostages. “That’s unnecessary. I’ve already said no one’s coming in to get you. Why would we? You’re coming out. You told me so yourself.”
“And I’m a man of my word. Proved that earlier, didn’t I? By sending those hostages out.”
“You did. It was the right thing to do, John. And I’ve got some good news for you. Your vehicle is going to be pulled up closer to the back door of the bank. Can you see it?”
“Somehow I thought the feds would start seeing things my way.” Dark humor tinged his tone. “I’ll almost be sorry to say goodbye, Jolie.”
And with that, the line abruptly went dead.
With studied control, she set the phone down carefully on the table. Jaw tight, she speared a look at Dawson, who was watching her. “Fenholt’s hurrying this.”
“It’s her call to make.”
Shaking her head vehemently, Jolie retorted, “She’s crazy. She wants to take him down as he tries for the vehicle? There’s no way to avoid injuring a hostage. How’s that going to play on the national news this evening?”
“Better than twenty-three dead hostages would, I expect. Our guys are good. They’ll minimize the casualties.”
She gripped the edge of the table tightly and fought for control. “One of those casualties is almost certainly going to be a two-year-old boy. She has to consider the fallout if she—”
“Ms. Conrad.” The finality of Dawson’s tone stopped her. “The decision has already been made. The HT is probably heading out the door as we speak.”
Dace put a hand on her shoulder, but Jolie shrugged it off and made her way out the back to round the vehicle and stare toward the bank. The building blocked her view of whatever was transpiring outside its back doors. Helplessness flooded through her. Her part here was likely done. For good or bad, the outcome was fast approaching and there wasn’t a thing more she could do about it.
It was useless to replay her conversations with the HT in her mind, questioning whether she could have done anything differently. The subject had set this whole thing in motion once he’d walked into that bank. The one thing she was sure of was that somehow Tyler was part of this final act, as well.
The first explosion rocked the ground beneath her and had her slapping a hand to the NOC unit for support. The second and third battered her eardrums, coupled with the sound of shattering glass from the bank. A trio of fireballs rose like blazing rockets toward the dusky sky.
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