From the Heart

still wide. “He was supposed to clear out his desk today. He must have gone crazy. Sally said he shot twice in the hallway.”
    “Sally?”
    “The senator’s secretary. She was just down the hall when it happened. If she had been in the office . . .” She swallowed and fixed her eyes back on the building. “He’s firedtwice through the window since I’ve been out here. Do you think the senator’s going to be all right?”
    “I’m sure he’s going to be fine.” Even as Liv said the words, the sharp report of gunfire split the air.
    “Oh God!” The receptionist gripped Liv’s arm. “Is he killing them? He must be killing them!”
    “No, no.” Liv felt the cool lick of fear. “He’s just shooting out of the window. It’s going to be all right.” She had to corroborate the woman’s identifications of the gunman before she put it on the air. That was the job—one step at a time. She couldn’t think about what was happening to the people inside. Not yet. “Is the senator’s secretary still here?”
    “She had to go with the police. She’s back there somewhere.”
    “All right, thank you.” Quickly, Liv began to work her way through the crowd again. Spying Dutch, she headed straight for him. If anyone could give her the details, he could.
    It was closer to half an hour than the twenty minutes she had promised, but Liv delivered a straightforward, detailed stand-up with pans of the police and the crowd. The building across the street was quiet—too quiet for her liking. She would almost have preferred another volley of gunfire to the silence. Terror, she realized abruptly, was always silent.
    “When the hell is he going to do something?” Bob muttered beside her. The tension was seeping into them all—police, bystanders, press. Everyone was waiting for the next move. “Major league coming up,” he added. “There’s T.C.”
    “I’ll be right back,” Liv told him. “Make sure the engineer’s ready to patch us into the station if anything goes down.” She made for Thorpe like a homing pigeon heading for roost. “Thorpe.”
    “Liv.” He touched her cheek briefly. “I figured you’d be here.”
    “Is there anything new?” she asked, knowing there was more than a story involved this time. They both knew the man inside.
    “They’ve established communications with Morrow. Wyatt’s not hurt; neither are the aides. Yet. He doesn’t seem to be quite rational. One minute he wants a half million in cash anda plane, the next gold and an armored car. He changes his mind every time they talk to him.”
    “How the hell did he get in there with a gun?” she demanded.
    Thorpe gave a quick, mirthless laugh. His eyes never left the building across the street. “It isn’t difficult for someone security’s used to seeing to pass through. He had it in his jacket, I imagine, or it was already in his desk.” He shifted impatiently. Liv could tell he wanted to move, wanted to do something. “I’d feel better if he were a professional. In the state he’s in, it’s too easy for him to make a mistake and take the hostages down with him.” He swore with a quiet urgency she rarely heard from him. “He wanted to make certain he was getting full media coverage.”
    “You don’t really think he’s doing it for the publicity, do you?” The thought appalled her.
    Thorpe shook his head. “I’ve dealt with him several times when I’ve set up meetings.” He took out a cigarette. “He’s a taut, hungry little man. A good mind, but the nerves show.”
    “Gambling, I’m told.”
    “So the stories go.” Thorpe drew on the cigarette and let out a quick stream of smoke. “Too quiet,” he muttered. “Too damn quiet.”
    Tension was palpable. It increased, almost visibly, as the minutes dragged by. How long, she wondered, could the taut, hungry little man Thorpe had described stand up under the strain? He’d taken an irrevocable step. How much further would he go? She waited, like the others, to find out.
    “Thorpe.” Liv recognized the man from the Secret Service, and frowned when he singled Thorpe out. “Chief Daniels wants you.”
    “Sure.” Thorpe crushed another cigarette under his heel. “Her too,” he added with a jerked thumb at Liv. “We’re a team.”
    Liv bit back a smile. That was quite a change. Without a word, she followed behind them.
    The communications van was set up well away from the press area. She glanced briefly at the equipment, the tape recorders,