Hostage

27

Saturday, 3:37 A.M.

Santa Clarita, California

TALLEY

Talley drove without lights, swerving far onto the shoulder whenever he passed an oncoming vehicle. He pulled off the road a hundred yards before the motel and left his car in the weeds, thankful for the black sweatshirt he had pulled on earlier. He tied a roll of duct tape to a belt loop, then shoved a handful of plastic restraints into his pocket. He rubbed dirt on his face and hands to kill their shine, then drew his pistol and trotted toward the motel. The moon was up, bright like a blue pearl, giving him light.

Talley guessed that Howell would post observers to warn him if the police were approaching. He worked his way to the edge of the motel property and froze beside a spiky-leafed manzanita bush, searching the shadows at the edge of the light for some bit of movement or blackness that did not fit. Talley had approached a thousand armed houses when he was on SWAT; this time was no different. The motel was a long two-story barn surrounded by a parking lot. A smattering of cars were sleeping outside the ground-floor rooms. Two huge tractor-trailer trucks sat at the rear; a third was parked near the street. Talley worked his way around the perimeter of the grounds, moving outside the field of light, pausing every two paces to look and listen.

He spotted one observer on the east side parking lot, sitting between the wheels of an eighteen-wheeler that had been docked for the night. A few minutes later, he found the second man hunkered beneath a pepper tree across the street on the west side. Talley looked carefully for others, but only two men were posted.

DUANE MANELLI

Manelli lay belly-down in the hard dirt at the base of a pepper tree, watching LJ Ruiz move between the wheels of the eighteen-wheeler. They were hooked up by cell phone. If either saw an oncoming vehicle or anything suspicious, they could alert the other, and then Glen Howell. Manelli didn’t like it that he could see movement. This meant that LJ was bored, and bored men made mistakes.

He whispered into his phone.

“LJ, you in position?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Settle in and stop moving around.”

“Fuck yourself. I’m not moving.”

Manelli didn’t respond. LJ had stopped moving, so Manelli let it go. Duane Manelli had spent enough time on night recon training exercises when he was in the army to respect radio silence.

Manelli settled into the dirt.

Ruiz said something, but Manelli didn’t understand.

“Say again.”

Ruiz didn’t answer.

“I didn’t hear you, LJ. What’d you say?”

Nothing came back.

“LJ?”

Manelli heard the rocks crunch behind him, then his head exploded with rainbow light.

TALLEY

Talley bound Manelli’s wrists behind the man’s back with the plastic restraints, pulling the leads tight. He secured Manelli’s ankles the same way, then rolled the man over.

Talley slapped Manelli’s face.

“Wake up.”

Talley slapped harder.

“Wake up, goddamnit. You’re under arrest.”

Manelli’s eyes fluttered. Talley waited until the eyes focused, then pressed the gun into Manelli’s neck.

“You know who I am?”

“Talley.”

“Which room are they in?”

“They’re not. Howell sent them away.”

Talley cursed under his breath. He didn’t expect that Howell would have kept them with him, but he had hoped.

“All right. Where are they?”

“I don’t know. Clewes took them.”

Talley had not heard that name before, Clewes, but it didn’t matter. He had not heard of any of these people.

“Where did Clewes take them?”

“I don’t know. In the car. Howell is gonna call him. I don’t know what they’re gonna do. That was between Clewes and Howell.”

Talley glanced at the motel, fighting down his panic. The passing seconds loaded onto his back like bags of sand. He was wasting time, and he needed a plan. He told himself to think. He chanted the SWAT mantra: Panic kills. If Jane and Amanda were being held somewhere else, he would have to force Howell to bring them back.

He looked back at Manelli.

“How many people does Howell have?”

“Five here at the motel, plus Clewes.”

“You and the asshole at the truck, leaves three inside?”

“That’s right, plus Clewes. He has more people, but I don’t know where they are. They could show up here anytime.”

Talley thought it through. Three in the room. Three against one, with more on the way. None of it mattered. He had no other choice.

“Which room?”

Manelli hesitated.

Talley pushed the .45 harder into Manelli’s throat. The sweat and dirt from his face dripped onto Manelli like muddy rain.

“Which room?” Manelli sighed.

“One twenty-four. Let me ask you a question, Talley?” Talley hesitated. He didn’t have time for questions.

“What?”

“You’re not just some hick cop?”

“No. No, I’m not.”

Talley covered Manelli’s mouth with duct tape, then slipped across the road and returned to the parking lot, searching for room 124. He found the green Mustang on the far side of the motel, parked one parking place down from 124. A man in a blue knit shirt was standing by it, smoking. This man outside left two more men in the room. Talley saw a silver wristwatch on his left arm; this man wasn’t Glen Howell.

Talley worked his way as close to the Mustang as possible. The man finished his cigarette, then leaned against the car. He was less than fifteen yards away. Forty-five feet. Talley told himself that it wasn’t very far.

The door to room 124 opened, and a man with a dark tan stepped out.

“Keep your eyes open. He should’ve been here.”

Talley saw a gold Rolex on his wrist, and recognized the voice. Howell.

Talley released the safety on his pistol, and readied himself to move.

The Mustang man complained to Howell.

“This is bullshit. That chickenfuck ain’t gonna come. We should get outta this shithole while we still can.”

“He’ll come. There’s nothing else he can do.”

Howell went back into the room, closing the door.

The Mustang man lit a fresh cigarette. When he turned away, Talley rushed forward.

The Mustang man startled at the sound, but he was too late. Talley hit him hard on the side of the head, using the .45 as a club. The Mustang man staggered sideways. Talley grabbed him around the neck from behind in a choke hold, and pushed him toward the room. He didn’t want the Mustang man unconscious; he wanted him as a shield.

Talley moved fast now; he kicked the door next to the knob, busting the jamb, and shoved the Mustang man through, screaming his identification.

“Police! You’re under arrest!”

Talley didn’t think they would shoot him until they had the disks. He was counting on that.

Glen Howell brought up a pistol as he dropped into a crouch, shouting at a man with a big head seated by the window. The man rolled out of his chair and also came up with a gun, aiming from the floor in a two-handed grip as Howell shouted not to fire.

“Don’t shoot him! Don’t shoot!”

Talley shifted his aim between the two men, making himself as small as possible behind the Mustang man. Insects spiraled in from the night, hungry for the light.

Talley shouted, “Where’s my family?”

They sucked air like freight engines. No one was shooting, but if one person fired, everyone would fire. They each had something the other wanted. Talley knew it. He knew that Howell knew it. It was the only thing holding them back.

Howell abruptly released his gun, letting it swing free on his finger.

“Just take it easy. Take it easy. We’re here to do business.”

“Where are they?”

“Do you have the disks?”

Talley shifted his aim to the man with the big head. He felt as if he was at the day-care center again, held hostage by men with guns.

“You know I have the disks, you sonofabitch. Where’s my family?”

Howell slowly stood, hands out, letting his gun hang.

“Let’s just take it easy. They’re all right. Can I take a phone from my pocket?”

“They were supposed to be here.”

“Let me get the phone. You can talk to them, see they’re okay.”

Talley shifted his aim from the big-headed man to Howell, then back again. Howell took out a cell phone and pressed in a number. Someone on the other end answered, and Howell told them to put the woman on. He held out the phone.

“Here. Talk to her. She’s all right.”

Talley jammed his gun under the Mustang man’s jaw, and warned him not to move. Howell brought the phone over, holding it with two fingers like a teacup. Talley took it with his free hand, and Howell stepped back.

“Jane?”

“Jeff! We’re-” The line went dead.

“SHIT!”

Howell shrugged, reasonably.

“You see? They’re alive. Whether they stay that way depends on you.”

Talley tossed the phone back to Howell, then took out a single disk. This was where everything could go bad. This was where he took his biggest chance, and risked everything.

“One disk. You’ll get the other when I have my girls. Not talk to them on the phone, but have them. I get my girls, you get the disks. You don’t like it, tough. You kill me, everyone still goes to jail.”

He tossed the disk onto the bed.

Talley could read that Howell wasn’t happy with just the one disk, but Talley was counting on that. He wanted Howell off-balance and worried. It was a negotiation. Talley knew that Howell would be weighing his options just as Talley weighed his; Howell would be wondering if Talley had the second disk with him, thinking that if Talley had both disks, Howell could simply shoot him and take the disks and this would be over. But Howell couldn’t be sure. If he killed Talley, and Talley didn’t have both disks, then Howell would be fucked. So Howell wouldn’t shoot him. Not yet. And that gave Talley a chance to jam him into revealing Amanda and Jane.

Talley watched the tension play over Howell’s face. Talley offered nothing. Howell picked up the disk.

“I have to see if it’s real.”

“It’s real.”

“I have to make sure.”

An IBM ThinkPad with a Zip drive attached was set up on the nightstand. Howell sat on the edge of the bed as he opened the disk, then grunted at the contents.

“All right. This is one of them. Where’s the other?”

“First my girls. I see my girls, you get the disks. That’s the way it works.”

Sweat leaked from Talley’s hair and ran down his neck. It felt like crawling ants. Howell would either take the chance or he wouldn’t. Neither of them had any other choice. It had all come down to which one would break first.

It was a face-off.

Talley waited as Howell considered his options. Talley already knew what he would decide. Talley had left Howell no other choice.

Howell picked up his phone.

GLEN HOWELL

Talley wasn’t acting like a has-been cop who had been broken by the job and come to nowhereland to hide; he was carrying on like a full-blown SWAT tactical streetmonster. But Talley was also scared. Howell knew that he had to use that fear; he had to make Talley so frightened of losing his wife and daughter that he stopped thinking. Howell figured that Talley had the second disk on him, but the only way he could find out was to kill him. If he killed Talley, and Talley didn’t have the disk, Howell would be fucked. Sonny Benza’s message was clear; Benza would kill him.

The phone at the other end rang once before Marion Clewes answered.

“Yes?”

Howell spoke clearly, never taking his eyes from Talley. He wanted Talley to know that Glen Howell held the lives of his wife and child in his hands.

“Bring them. Stop the car outside the room, but don’t get out. I want to show him that they’re all right.”

“Okey-doke.”

Howell watched Talley closely, and noticed that Talley tensed when Howell told Clewes to stay in the car. Talley didn’t like that, but tried not to show it. Howell felt encouraged. He felt as if he had played a winning card.

“Don’t hang up. It’s very important that you stay on the line. I’ll want to talk to you again.”

“All right.”

Howell lowered the phone. Clewes was parked behind a Mobil station down the street. He would be here in seconds.

“Okay, Talley, they’re on the way.”

“I want more than just seeing them. I won’t give you the disk until I have them.”

“I understand.”

Howell heard the car before he saw it. Clewes wheeled to a stop in the empty space next to the Mustang, the nose of his car framed dead-center in the open door. The woman, Jane, was in the passenger seat. The daughter was in the rear. They were both tied, their mouths taped.

Howell saw Talley move slightly toward the door and his wife, then catch himself before looking back at Howell.

“Tell him to get out of the car.”

Howell raised the phone.

“Marion?”

Outside, Clewes lifted his own phone. They could see each other clearly through the open door.

“Yes, sir?”

“Aim your gun at the woman’s head.”

MARION CLEWES

The world was comfortable here within Marion’s car, which still held that yummy new-car smell; with the windows up, the engine idling, and the air-conditioning blowing softly, Marion could hear only the two women crying and the voice in his ear. He took no pleasure in their tears.

“Yes, sir.”

Marion had his orders. Just as Glen Howell’s job was to recover the disks, Marion knew exactly what he was supposed to do and when he was supposed to do it. It was all about doing your job, being rewarded if you succeeded, being punished if you failed. Success or failure were defined by the disks.

Marion raised his gun to the mother’s head. She trembled, and clenched her eyes. Behind her, in the backseat, the daughter moaned loudly.

Marion smiled warmly, trying to lend comfort, even as he watched the events within the motel.

“Don’t worry, ladies. You’ll be fine.”

His gun did not waver from its mark.

TALLEY

The world collapsed to an automobile only ten steps away. Talley saw everything happening inside the car with a clarity so great it seemed unreal: The man behind the wheel touched a small black pistol to Jane’s temple. Glistening tears spilled from Jane’s eyes. In the backseat, Amanda rocked from side to side, also crying.

Talley screamed, “NO!”

Howell kept the phone to his mouth, speaking to Talley but also the man in the car.

“Give me the second disk or he’ll kill your wife.”

“NO!”

Talley jerked his gun to the man in the car but was scared that the angle of the windshield would deflect his shot. This wasn’t like when Neil Craimont had killed the man holding a gun to Talley’s head at the day-care center; the man in the car was surrounded by glass. An accurate shot could not be guaranteed. Talley jerked his aim back at Howell. Everything was suddenly wrong; everything that he was trying to do had gone to hell.

Howell was winning.

“I’ll kill you, Howell! You’ll never get the disk!”

“He’ll kill your wife, but your daughter will still be alive. Are you listening to this, Marion?”

Talley saw the man behind the wheel nod. Talley shifted his aim again, back to the man in the car.

“I’ll fucking kill you! Can you hear that, you sonofabitch?!”

The man in the car smiled.

Howell spoke reasonably.

“I’ll still have your daughter. Your wife will be dead, but your daughter will be alive. Do you see her there in the car, Talley? But if you shoot me, then he’ll kill your daughter, too. Do you want to lose both of them?”

Talley aimed at the man in the car again. His breath was coming so hard that his gun shook. If he shot low, the bullet would deflect high, but he didn’t know how much; anything short of a perfect shot would cost Jane’s life. If Talley shot at the man in the car, Howell or the man with the big head would shoot him, and then all of them would be dead.

Howell said, “The negotiation is over, Talley. I won.”

Talley glanced at Howell. He measured the shots; first the man in the car, then Howell, lastly the man on the floor. He would have to make all three to save his family. He didn’t think that he could make them.

Howell said, “Drop your gun, and give me the second disk. Give me the disk or he’ll put her brain on the window.”

Talley’s eyes filled because he thought they would all die anyway, but he still had one chance left. One small chance, because Howell and Benza still wanted the disks.

Talley dropped his gun.

The Mustang man jumped out of the way. Howell and the big-headed man charged forward. They scooped up Talley’s gun and shoved him against the wall, pinning him like an insect to a board. Howell searched him even as Talley told him about the second disk.

“It’s in my left front pocket.”

Talley felt numb. Defeated. Outside, the man behind the wheel climbed out of the car and came to the door. Talley watched Amanda and Jane in the car. Jane met his eye, and in that moment he felt buoyed by a tide of love that felt as if it could carry him away.

Howell loaded the disk into the ThinkPad.

Talley watched him open the disk, and took a grim pleasure in watching Howell’s face darken and grow fierce.

“You sonofabitch. This isn’t the disk. This isn’t the second disk! It’s a goddamned blank!”

Talley felt strangely removed from this room and these people. He glanced at Jane again. He smiled at her, the same small smile they had often shared at night when they were alone in bed, and then he turned back to Howell.

“I don’t have the second disk anymore. I gave it to the Sheriffs, and they’re giving it to the FBI. Benza’s over. You’re over. There’s nothing either of us can do.”

Talley watched the disbelief float to the surface of Howell’s face like a great slow bubble.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying. We’re done here, Howell. Let us go. Let us go and save yourself the murder charge.”

Howell stood stiffly, like a mechanical man. He lumbered around the bed as if he was in shock, picked up his gun from the floor, and aimed it at Talley.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“I just want to take my family home.”

Howell shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe that this was happening, and then he blinked numbly at the man in the door, the man who had been in the car.

“Kill every one of these people.”

MARION CLEWES

Marion watched as Glen Howell opened the second disk. He was disappointed to see that Talley had tried to fake them out with a false disk, but he had expected as much. Talley was a policeman, after all; Marion had never expected that he would let a man like Sonny Benza walk away, not even with his family being held. In the end, turning over the disk to the proper authorities had been the right thing to do.

“Kill every one of these people.”

It was all about doing your job, being rewarded if you succeeded, being punished if you failed. Success or failure was defined by the disks, and Glen Howell had not recovered the disks.

Marion felt sad about that; he had always liked Glen Howell even though Mr. Howell hadn’t liked him.

Marion had his orders.

Marion lifted his gun.

TALLEY

The man in the door whom Howell had called Marion raised his gun and aimed it squarely at Talley’s face. Marion was a small man, ordinary in appearance, the type of anonymous man who would be invisible in a mall and impossible for witnesses to describe. An Everyman; average height, average weight, brown, brown.

Talley stared into the black hole of the muzzle and braced for the bullet.

“I’m sorry, Jane.”

Marion shifted his gun hard to the side and fired. He adjusted his aim, and fired again, then again. The first bullet took Howell above the right eye, the second the Mustang man dead-center in the left eye, and the third caught the man with the big head in the temple.

Marion lowered his gun.

Talley stood motionless against the wall, watching Marion the way a bird watches a snake. Marion shrugged.

“Life is unforgiving.”

Marion crossed the room to retrieve the one good disk, pocketed it, then went to the car. He helped Jane out, then opened the back door and helped Amanda. He walked around the car, climbed in behind the wheel, and drove away without another word. Talley saw him using his cell phone even before he was out of the parking lot.

The motel was quiet.

A dark wind had blown through Bristo Camino, something beyond Talley’s control, beyond his pain and his loss, and now it was gone. Now, only the three of them were left.

“Jane?”

Talley stumbled out of the room and ran to his wife. He hugged her with frantic desperation, then pulled his daughter close, squeezing them to him as the tears spilled down his face. He held them and knew then that he would never let them go, that he had lost them once and now had almost lost them this second time, lost them forever, and that he could and would never allow that to happen again.

It was over.