Crescent City Connection

whether she’d been coached, but she liked it. It had the sound of “I-can’t-beat-’em-and-neither-can-you.”
    “Good. Then I’ll talk to them. Have Agent Ferguson call us, please, gentlemen.”
    In the command post, a collective sigh went up when he rang off.
    Ferguson checked her watch. “We’ll give it ten minutes. To fray their nerves a little.”
    “Why not?” said Goerner. “Mine are shot. They might as well catch up.” His hand was torturing his hair, as if he might tear out a hunk of it. Skip would have felt sorry for him if his voice didn’t sound as if it could cut concrete.
    When the allotted time had elapsed, Ferguson dialed again. “Agent Ferguson calling. I had a message from you.”
    “Ah, yes. Agent Ferguson. Apparently, you know where we are.”
    “Yes. And we have the block roped off and surrounded. But you expected that, didn’t you?” She waited a moment. “How are you doing in there? Is Shavonne okay?”
    “She’s doing great, Agent Ferguson. We’re not gonna hurt that child.”
    “Why don’t you call me Penny, Reverend?”
    “Looks like you know my name, too.”
    “Oh, yes.”
    “All part of the plan, Penny. All part of the plan. Here’s what I need: You just give me my granddaughter in exchange for Shavonne, and then give me and my friends an escort to the airport. Now what could be simpler?”
    “How many people are in there with you?”
    “You’ll be told when the time comes.” He spoke sharply. “You just get me my granddaughter.”
    “Does she want to join you?”
    “Of course. Sure she does, Penny—we’re doing more for justice in this country than you and every damn police force in every state combined.”
    Goerner balled up his hands in victory-fists—it was an admission of guilt.
    Ferguson stayed cool. “Well, Reverend, is there anything you need in there? Have you got enough food and supplies?”
    “That’s not really your concern, is it?”
    “I’m a little worried about Daniel.”
    He hesitated before speaking. “Now, why in the hell are you worried about Daniel?”
    “Is he okay?”
    “You tend to your own knitting, Miss Agent Penny Ferguson.” The phone went dead.
    Goerner’s mouth worked like he was chewing. “Fuck.”
    There’s got to be more
, Skip thought.
There just has to be.
    She had butterflies that felt more like bees, partly from fear and tension, but partly from excitement. As the negotiator talked with Jacomine, an idea started forming in the back of her mind. It was so outlandish there wasn’t a chance of talking anyone into it—and yet she couldn’t get it out of her head. She was reasonably sure this particular situation—therefore this specific opportunity—had never come up before.
    It was going to meet resistance, though. Maybe this wasn’t the time to bring it up.
    Kohler, wearing headphones, was making keep-it-down signs. When he had their attention, he turned a dial, and they heard a woman, apparently in Jacomine’s office. “He needs a doctor, Daddy. This is not something to mess with.”
    “It’s God’s call, Tara. We’ve done the contest a thousand times and nobody’s gotten hurt before.”
    “Daddy, he’s getting worse. He can’t even get up to go to the bathroom.” Her voice was panicky.
    “Now, don’t you worry about it, you hear me? Go on out of here now. 1 got a phone call to make.”
    They sat tensely while he dialed a number and got no answer.

Twenty-seven
    SKIP’S MIND RACED. Finally, she could stand it no longer. “Agent Goerner, I’ve got a thought.”
    He looked at her from under beetle brows, his expression saying this better be good. “What?” Rude. Barely acknowledging her.
    “Look, we know we’d never exchange one hostage for another, but evidently they don’t know that or they wouldn’t be asking for it.”
    “What are you getting at, Langdon?”
    “Lovelace is nearly as tall as I am. Nobody’d notice the difference without having us side by side.”
    “So?”
    “Well, I bet anything her grandfather hasn’t seen her in years—the only one who’d recognize her is Daniel, and sounds like he’s out of commission.”
    “You want to change places with her, is that what you’re saying? You want me to send you in there to get killed?”
    “I’d have a gun with me. We could work that out.”
    “Absolutely not. You crazy, Langdon?”
    “Besides,” Shellmire said, “Jacomine might not know his own granddaughter, but he most assuredly knows you.”
    “Not