High Noon

“Five-thousand-dollar charge, Mark D, two weeks before the bank robbery. He made the minimum payments on it until he went south.”
    “Bought her a ring in there, that’s what he did.” Phoebe pushed through her notes. “Got the property list, the personal effects. She had diamond—yellow-gold band—ring on her person. White-gold diamond-crusted wedding band in her purse. Not on her finger. She was wearing Walken’s ring when she died. Bastard Brentine. He knew it. Maybe not before her death, but he damn well knew what had been going on when he got her effects. And he stonewalls us.”
    She scribbled, highlighted, circled. How could she use it? Should she? Time would tell.
    “He thinks he knows me, but he doesn’t. I know him. And you know him,” she said to Vince. “A lot of the men out there with guns pointed at that building know him. He wants to work me, but we’ll be working him. He won’t allow himself to relate to any of the hostages. They have to remain meaningless to him so he can do what he means to do.”
    “What does he mean to do?” Duncan asked.
    “Kill them all. Kill himself and all of them.”
    “Oh Jesus God.”
    “To strike at me, personally and professionally. How can I ever do this again if I fail to save those people? How can I live with it? That’s what he thinks.”
    Pacing in front of the situation board, she stared at the phone, willing it to ring. “The press and public opinion will rip me to pieces. That’s what he knows. The connection between him and me will be made known, and the bank incident will be picked over again. I’ll be disgraced, and useless as a negotiator, and I’ll pay, finally pay, for causing his lover’s death. That’s what he thinks. And he’ll die, in a spectacular and symbolic way. I’ll have killed him, just like I killed her. That’s what he wants most of all.”
    She turned to look at the clock. “We’re not going to give him what he wants.”
    “Offer him a trade. He knows about us. Offer to trade me for two of the women. For Ma and Loo. I’m a bigger win for him, and then—”
    “He wouldn’t take it. And neither I nor the commander could allow it, Duncan.”
    But he would give it, she thought. He would risk himself for love.
    “Duncan.” She spoke softly, so he could hear her heart under the words. “I know what they mean to you. I know what you’re feeling.” And it was killing her.
    She turned as the phone rang. “All right. Here we go. Hello, Jerry.”
     
    Inside the bank, Ma patted the hand of the woman beside her. “Stop crying now.”
    “He’s going to kill us. He’s—”
    “Crying doesn’t help.”
    “We should pray.” A man across the circle rocked gently back and forth. “We should put our faith in the Lord.”
    “Can’t hurt.” But Ma was putting a good chunk of her faith in the men outside with guns. “Hush now,” she repeated. “Patsy, isn’t it? Hush up now, Patsy. That woman he’s talking to? She’s smart.”
    “How do you know?”
    “I—”
    Loo squeezed her mother-in-law’s hand fiercely, gave a quick shake of her head. “She sounds smart. She’ll find out what he wants, and everything’s going to be fine.”
     
    They circled each other for more than an hour before he broke communications again. “He’s stalling. He wants to string this out, make it last. There’s something he wants to make me do, but he’s not ready yet. It’s under there, I can hear it under there.”
    “He’s enjoying it,” Duncan told her. “He likes telling you no. No food, no water, no medical supplies. He’s cruising on it.”
    “Agreed, for now.”
    “He’s not going to let any of them out.” Sykes sat down beside Phoebe. “He doesn’t want anything in exchange, and if he did, he knows that releasing any of the hostages is our advantage. They can give us inside intel, make it simpler to shut this down.”
    “They can’t get a shot.” Vince walked over to the situation board, gestured to the sketch of the interior of the store. “He’s in this corner, northeast corner, and there’s no shot. That’s why he’s there.”
    “He’s been on the other side,” Phoebe concurred. “He’s familiarized himself with the layout, with the angles.”
    “They need to go in. Back door’s the only way. A frontal assault gives him too much time. They need to deal with the explosives on the rear door.”
    “And if they make a mistake, if he’s got an alarm on it, and it goes or blows, he’ll