A Maidens Grave

schools for the deaf in Kansas and Missouri. Signed the petition to increase the deaf faculty at Laurent Clerc and hers was the largest signature on the sheet. She’s been in fistfights at school and she usually wins.”
    Potter nodded. So if they could distract him enough, and if she had an opportunity, the girl might make a run for freedom.
    Or use the chance to attack Handy and get herself killed in the process.
    He clicked the mute button off. Sounding exasperated: “Look, Lou. We’re just talking about a little delay is all. You want a big aircraft. Well, we’ve got two-seaters galore. But the big ones’re hard to find.”
    “That’s your fucking problem, ain’t it? I put a bullet into little Fannie Annie here in, lemme see, fifteen minutes by my clock.”
    Usually, you devalue the hostages.
    Sometimes you just have to beg.
    “Her name’s Shannon, Lou. Come on. She’s only eight years old.”
    “Shannon,” Handy mused. “I guess you aren’t catching on, Art. You’re trying to get me to feel sorry for some poor kid’s got a name. Shannon Shannon Shannon.Those’re your rules, right, Art? Written up in your Feebie handbook?”
    Page 45, in fact.
    “But see, those rules don’t take into account somebody like me. The more I know them the more I want to kill ’em.”
    Walk that fine line. Chide, push, trade barbs. He’ll back off if you hit the balance just right. Arthur Potter thought this but his hand cramped on the receiver as he said cheerfully, “I think that’s bullshit, Lou. I think you’re just playing with us.”
    “Have it your way.”
    A little edge in the agent’s voice: “I’m tired of this crap. We’re trying to work with you.”
    “Naw, you want to shoot me down. Why don’t you have the balls to admit it? If I had you in my sights I’d drop you like a fucking deer.”
    “No, I don’t want to shoot you, Lou. I don’t want anybody to die. We’ve got a lot of logistic problems. Landing is a real hassle here. The field out front’s filled with those old posts from the stockyard pens. And we’ve got trees everywhere. We can’t set a chopper down on the roof because of the weight. We—”
    “So you’ve got diagrams of the building, do you?”
    Negotiate from strength—with a reminder to the HT that there’s always a tactical solution in the back of your mind (we can kick in the door any time we want and nail you cold, and remember, there’re a hell of a lot more of us than of you). Potter laughed and said, “Of course we do. We’ve got maps and charts and diagrams and graphs and eight-by-ten color glossy photos. You’re a damn cover boy in here, Lou. This’s no surprise, is it?”
    Silence.
    Push too far?
    No, I don’t think so. He’ll laugh and sound cool.
    It was a chuckle. “You guys’re too fucking much.”
    “And the field to the south,” Potter continued, as if Handy hadn’t spoken, “look at it. Nothing but gullies and hummocks. To set an eight-person copter down’d be pretty dangerous. And this wind . . . it’s a real problem. Our aviation advisor isn’t sure what to do about it.”
    Budd frowned, mouthing, “Aviation advisor?” Potter shrugged, having just made up the job. He pointed to the “Deceptions” board and Budd wrote it down, sighing.
    Silver tools, wrapped in plastic, new.
    Potter desperately wanted to ask what they were for. But of course he couldn’t. It was vitally important that Handy not realize what they knew about the inside of the barricade. Even more vital: if Handy suspected the released hostages were giving Potter quality information he’d think twice about releasing others.
    “Art,” Handy spat out, “I keep saying, them’s your problems.” But he was not as flippant now and part of him at least seemed to realize that this had become his problem.
    “Come on, Lou. This’s just a practical thing. I’m not arguing about the chopper. I’m telling you we’re having trouble finding one and that I’m not sure where we can set it down. You got any ideas, I’ll be happy to take ’em.”
    Hostage negotiation strategy calls for the negotiator to avoid offering solutions to problems. Shift that burden to the taker. Keep him in a problem-solving mode, uncertain.
    A disgusted sigh. “Fuck.”
    Will he hang up?
    Finally Handy said, “How ’bout a pontoon chopper? You can do that, can’t you?”
    Never agree too quickly.
    “Pontoon?” Potter said after a moment. “I don’t know. We’d have to look into