Crescent City Connection

myself up for this. You and Piatt can plan your nice maneuvers all day and all night, but, realistically, these people are crazy as bats. You know and I know I’m the only chance that kid’s got.”
    “We have to think about the risk to our guys, too.”
    “This way there’s less risk to them. If you try to storm that place you’re probably going to lose somebody. If you don’t, the kid’ll probably die, so you’re probably going to. If I’m already in there—say with a hidden transmitter—you’ve got an edge.”
    Piatt spoke for the first time. “The question is, will you have a chance?”
    “Give me one, guys. Come on. Tell me what I’ve got to do and I’ll do it, okay?”
    Vinterella let his face relax. He was talked into it. “All right. Let’s do it.”
    Piatt gave the after-you sign. “You’re the explosives expert.”
    They sat down at a small table, and Vinterella began to draw. “Here’s the alarm clock here. See this screw in it?” He showed her the faxed photo and put a loupe on top of it. She could barely see a speck where the screw must be. She turned back to the drawing.
    Vinterella had added a wire and a blob representing a battery. “See there’s a wire on the screw, which is attached to a battery on the kid someplace. Maybe on the back of the jacket. There could even be more than one battery. Know what’s attached to the batteries?”
    She shrugged. “Blasting caps, I guess.”
    “Right. So here’s how it works—if the clock hand touches the screw, the bomb detonates.”
    “So I have to cut the wire.”
    “Yeah, if you’ve got the guts. Most cops won’t touch a device. You know that, don’t you?”
    “I don’t think I’m gonna have time to wait for a bomb expert.”
    When the meeting was over, they put Lovelace on the phone. “Grandpa, I’m really worried about my daddy.”
    “He’s holding his own, Sugar-pie. But I’m not gonna lie to my granddaughter—he really does need a doctor.”
    “Can I talk to him?”
    “I’m sorry, honey, but the only phone we got’s downstairs, and he’s upstairs. He can’t really walk down, the condition he’s in.”
    “What would I have to do if I traded myself for him?”
    “Oh, you’d be part of us. You’d be part of the most important justice-seeking organization in the history of the world.”
    “You know, I—” she spoke slowly “—think I’d kind of like that.” They all held their breath. Ferguson had felt it would be better for her to ask more questions about the movement, but they were aware of the time constraints—at this point, the goal was get in, get out—just get it happening.
    Ferguson took the phone. “Hi, Rev, it’s Penny. Listen, we’ve tried real hard to talk your granddaughter out of this thing, but we haven’t succeeded. We have only one condition. You give us Shavonne first.”
    “Penny, honey, call me back when you’re ready to talk.” He rang off as usual, and this time Ferguson smiled. “I think I’m getting a feel for him. You have to turn his hang-ups against him—like in aikido, or something.”
    Skip barely listened. She was sitting on the floor, meditating. It wasn’t something she was good at, generally finding it hard to sit still, but somehow she had to get her nerves to quit dancing like electric currents in a science fiction movie.
    Ferguson called Jacomine and told him he’d won: They’d transfer Lovelace and Daniel first. Again, the room held its collective breath—if Jacomine said the transfers had to be simultaneous, it was over. Skip half hoped he would.
    “Very good,” he said. “We’re ready.”
    “The only requirement,” Ferguson said, “is that Lovelace wants to see her dad first.” If he said yes to this, they’d wiggle out of it, saying she’d changed her mind for some reason. Since he was the only one who could identify Lovelace, they couldn’t take a chance on his seeing Skip, but they had to make it Jacomine’s idea to keep them apart.
    “Impossible,” he said. “I’m sorry to tell you Daniel’s been unconscious for an hour.”
    “Are you sure he’s still alive?”
    “Of course, he’s still alive. Are you crazy? But he’s not going to be if you assholes don’t get a move on. We’re taking him down the steps now.”
    “Okay, we’ll send two paramedics to get him. Then we’ll send Lovelace.”
    “No deal.” Again, the hang-up; again, the redial.
    “Here’s how it’ll work,” he said. “Two people will bring