The Welcoming

DeWinter. Charity drives. I want a plane fueled up and waiting. She’ll be getting on it with me, so any tricks and we’re back to square one. When I get where I’m going, I turn her loose.”
    “How big a plane?”
    “Don’t try to stall me.”
    “Wait. I have to know. It’s a small airport, Block. You know that. If you’re going any distance—”
    “Just get me a plane.”
    “Okay.” Roman wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and forced his voice to level. He couldn’t hear her any longer, and the silence was as anguishing as her sobbing. “I’m going to have to go through channels on this. That’s how it works.”
    “The hell with your channels.”
    “Look, I don’t have the authority to get you what you want. I need to get approval. Then I’ll have to clear the airport, get a pilot. You’ll have to give me some time.”
    “Don’t yank my chain, DeWinter. You got an hour.”
    “I’ve got to get through to Washington. You know how bureaucrats are. It’ll take me three, maybe four.”
    “The hell with that. You got two. After two I’m going to start sending her out in pieces.”
    Charity closed her eyes, lowered her head to her folded arms and wept out her terror.

Chapter 12
    “We’ve got a couple of hours,” Roman murmured, continuing to study the inn and the floor plan Royce had given him. “He’s not as smart as I thought, or maybe he’s too panicked to think it through.”
    “That could be to our advantage,” Royce said when Roman shook his head at his offer of coffee. “Or it could work against us.”
    Two hours. Roman stared at the quiet clapboard building. He couldn’t stand the idea of Charity being held at gunpoint for that long. “He wants a car, safe passage to the airport and a plane.” He turned to Conby. “I want you to make sure he thinks he’s going to get it.”
    “I’m aware of how to handle a hostage situation, DeWinter.”
    “Which one of your men is the best shot?” Roman asked Royce.
    “I am.” He kept his eyes steady on Roman’s. “Where do you want me?”
    “They’re in the kitchen.”
    “He tell you that?”
    “No, Charity. She told me he was going to let her fix some food. Since I doubt eating’s on her mind, she was letting me know their position.”
    Royce glanced over to where Mae was pacing up and down the pier. “She’s a tough girl. She’s keeping her head.”
    “So far.” But Roman remembered too well the sound of her muffled sobbing. “We need to shift two of the men around the back. I want them to keep their distance, stay out of sight. Let’s see how close we can get.” He turned to Conby again. “Give us five minutes, then call him again. Tell him who you are. You know how to make yourself sound important. Stall him, keep him on the phone as long as you can.”
    “You have two hours, DeWinter. We can call for a SWAT team from Seattle.”
    “We have two hours,” Roman said grimly. “Charity may not.”
    “I can’t take responsibility—”
    Roman cut him off. “You’ll damn well take it.”
    “Agent DeWinter, if this wasn’t a crisis situation I would cite you for insubordination.”
    “Great. Just put it on my tab.” He looked at the rifle Royce had picked up. It had a long-range telescopic sight. “Let’s move.”
    She’d cried long enough, Charity decided, taking a long, deep breath. It wasn’t doing her any good. Like her captor, she needed to think. Her world had whittled down to one room, with fear as her constant companion. This wouldn’t do, she told herself, straightening her spine. Her life was being threatened, and she wasn’t even sure why.
    She rose from where she had been huddled on the floor. Block was still sitting at the table, holding the gun in one hand while the other tapped monotonously on the scrubbed wood. The dangling cuffs jangled. He was terrified, she realized. Perhaps every bit as much as she. There must be some way to use that to her advantage.
    “Roger . . . would you like some coffee?”
    “Yeah. That’s good, that’s a good idea.” He took a firmer grip on the gun. “But don’t get cute. I’m watching every move.”
    “Are they going to give you a plane?” She turned the burner on low. The kitchen was full of weapons, she thought. Knives, cleavers, mallets. Closing her eyes, she wondered if she had the courage to use one.
    “They’re going to give me anything I want as long as I have you.”
    “Why do they want you?” Stay calm, she told