A Maidens Grave

his record with the state police though he wondered if he wasn’t here now because the governor had read the brief paragraph referring to a “consulting” career, which had taken Tremain to Africa and Guatemala after his discharge from the Marines.
    “The Rand Corporation study is pretty accurate as faras it goes. But there’s something else that bears on this situation, sir. That if there’s a killing early in the barricade, negotiations rarely work. The HT—the hostage taker—has little to lose. Sometimes there’s a psychological thing that happens and the taker feels so powerful that he’ll just keep upping his demands so that they can’t be met, just so he’ll have an excuse to kill the hostages.”
    The governor nodded.
    “What’s your assessment of Handy?”
    “I read the file on the way over here and I came up with a profile.”
    “Which is?”
    “He’s not psychotic. But he’s certainly amoral.”
    The governor’s thin lips twitched into a momentary smile. Because, Tremain thought, I’m a mercenary thug who used the word amoral ?
    “I think,” Tremain continued slowly, “that he’s going to kill more of the girls. Maybe all of them ultimately. If he goes mobile and gets away from us I think he’ll kill them just for the symmetry of it.”
    Symmetry. How do you like that, sir? Check out the education portion of my résumé. I was cum laude from Lawrence. Top of my class at OCS.
    “One other thing we have to consider,” the captain continued. “He didn’t try very hard to escape from that trooper who found them this afternoon.”
    “No?”
    “There was just that one officer and the three takers, with guns and hostages. It was like Handy’s goal wasn’t so much to get away but to spend some time . . .”
    “Some time what?”
    “With the hostages. If you get what I’m saying. They are all female.”
    The governor lifted his bulky weight from the chair. He walked to the window. Outside the combines combed the flat landscape, two of the ungainly machines slowly converging. The man sighed deeply.
    Fucking symmetrically amoral life, ain’t it, sir?
    “He simply isn’t your typical hostage taker, Governor. There’s a sadistic streak in him.”
    “And you really think he’d . . . hurt the girls? You know what I mean?”
    “I believe he would. If he could keep an eye out the window at the same time. And one of the fellows in there with him, Sonny Bonner, he’s doing time for rape. Well, interstate transport. But rape was at the bottom of it.”
    On the governor’s desk were pictures of his blond family, a black Labrador retriever, and Jesus Christ.
    “How good is your team, Captain?” Whispering now.
    “We’re very, very good, sir.”
    The governor rubbed his sleepy eyes. “Can you get them out?”
    “Yes. To know how many casualties, I’d have to do a preliminary plan of the tactical operation and then run a damage assessment.”
    “How soon could you do that?”
    “I’ve asked Lieutenant Carfallo to obtain terrain maps and architectural drawings of the building.”
    “Where is he now?”
    Tremain glanced at his watch. “He happens to be outside, sir.”
    The governor’s eyes twitched again. “Why don’t you ask him in?”
    A moment later the lieutenant, a short, stocky young officer, was unfurling maps and old drawings.
    “Lieutenant,” Tremain barked, “give us your assessment.”
    A stubby finger touched several places on the architectural drawings. “Breachable here and here. Move in, use stun grenades, set up crossfire zones.” The young man said this cheerfully and the governor seemed to grow uneasy again. As well he ought to. Carfallo was a scary little weasel. The lieutenant continued, “I’d estimate six to eight seconds, bang to bullets.”
    “He means,” Tremain explained, “it’s six seconds from the time the door blows until we acquire all three targets—um, have guns pointed at all the HTs.”
    “Is that good?”
    “Excellent. It means that hostage casualties would be minimal or nonexistent. But of course I can’t guarantee that there’d be none.”
    “God doesn’t give us guarantees.”
    “No, He doesn’t.”
    “Thank you, Lieutenant,” the governor said.
    “Dismissed,” Tremain snapped, and the young man’s face went still as he turned and vanished.
    “What about Potter?” the governor asked. “He is in charge after all.”
    Tremain said, “And the related issue—there’d have to be some reason to