Private Scandals

that Johnson served in the military and has been troubled since his discharge in March of last year. Last week he lost his wife and his job.”
    “You’re well informed.”
    “I get paid to be. He went into this restaurant at just past ten this morning—that’s about three hours ago—armed with a forty-four Magnum, a Bushmaster, a gas mask and a carbine. He shot and killed two waiters and a bystander, then took five hostages, including two women and a twelve-year-old girl, the owner’s daughter.”
    “Ten,” Jenner said wearily. “The kid’s ten. Mr. Riley, you do good work, and usually I enjoy it. But my job right now is to get those people out of there alive.”
    Finn glanced over, noting the position of the sharpshooters. They wouldn’t wait much longer. “What are his demands? Can you tell me that?”
    It hardly mattered, Jenner decided. There had been only one, and he hadn’t been able to meet it. “He wants his wife, Mr. Riley. She left Chicago four days ago. We’re trying to locate her, but we haven’t had any luck.”
    “I can get it on the air. If she catches a bulletin, she may make contact. Let me talk to him. I might be able to get him to bargain if I tell him I’ll put all my people on it.”
    “You that desperate for a story?”
    Insults were too common in his line of work for Finn to take offense. “I’m always ready to bargain for a story, Lieutenant.” His eyes narrowed as he measured the man beside him. “Look, the kid’s ten. Let me try.”
    Jenner believed in instinct, and he also knew, without a doubt, that he couldn’t hold the situation from flash point much longer. After a moment, he handed Finn the bullhorn.“Don’t promise what you can’t deliver.”
    “Mr. Johnson. Elmer. This is Finn Riley. I’m a reporter.”
    “I know who you are.” The voice came out, a high-pitched shriek through the broken glass. “Do you think I’m stupid?”
    “You were in the Gulf, right? I was too.”
    “Shit. You figure that makes us buddies?”
    “I figure anybody who did time over there’s already been to hell.” The awning flapped, reminding him of the road to Kuwait, and the sparkle of pink sequins. “I thought maybe we could make a deal.”
    “There ain’t no deal. My wife gets here, I let them go. She doesn’t, we’re all going to hell. For real.”
    “The cops have been trying to reach her, but I thought we could put a new spin on it. I’ve got a lot of contacts. I can get your story national, put your wife’s picture on television screens from coast to coast. Even if she isn’t watching, someone who knows her is bound to be. We’ll put a number on, a special number where she can call in. You can talk to her, Elmer.”
    That was good, Jenner decided, even as he braced to rip the bullhorn from Finn’s hands if the need arose. Using his first name, offering him not only hope but a few minutes of fame. His superiors might not approve, but Jenner thought it could work.
    “Then do it!” Johnson shouted out. “Just fucking do it.”
    “I’ll be glad to, but I can’t unless you give something back. Just let the little girl come out, Elmer, and I’ll plug your story across the country within ten minutes. I can even fix it so you can get a message to your wife. In your own words.”
    “I’m not letting anybody out, except in a body bag.”
    “She’s just a kid, Elmer. Your wife probably likes kids.” Christ, he hoped so. “If you let her go, she’ll hear about it, and she’ll want to talk to you.”
    “It’s a trick.”
    “I’ve got a camera right here.” He glanced toward Curt. “Is there a TV in the bar in there?” he called out.
    “What if there is?”
    “You can watch everything I do. Everything I say. I’ll have them put me on live.”
    “Then do it. Do it in five minutes, fucking five minutes, or you’re going to have another body in here.”
    “Call the desk,” Finn shouted. “Patch me in. Set up for live now.” Then he turned back to Jenner.
    “You’d make a pretty good cop—for a reporter.”
    “Thanks.” He handed Jenner the bullhorn. “Tell him to send her out while I’m on the air, or I go to black.”
     
    In precisely five minutes, Finn faced the camera. Whatever his inner turmoil, his delivery was calm and well paced, his eyes cool. Behind him was the shattered exterior of the restaurant.
    “This morning in Chicago’s Greektown, this family-run restaurant erupted with violence. Three people are known dead in