Capitol Murder (45 page)

What was the use? She’d never be able to train Ben to clean up after himself, just as she
couldn’t train him to take cases that might actually turn a profit. Just as she couldn’t get him
to—oh, what was the use?

She slung a few more piles of documents into the nearest open box. They were tumbling out of
order, but what did it matter? In all likelihood, they would never be looked at again and would
eventually be tossed out, unless Ben used them to write another book. It would be smarter to
concentrate on the supplies and equipment.

She thought she had everything—Post-it notes, perpetual calendar, the stapler shaped like the
Eiffel Tower, the legal pads, the laptop—

Wait a minute. The laptop. Where was that, anyway? She’d loaned it to Marshall yesterday so he
could review the previous day’s transcript, and she hadn’t seen it since. Where was he now?

The door to Marshall’s office was open, and she was sure he wouldn’t mind if she went inside.
After all, Marie had been using it as if it were her own ever since the case began. It wasn’t as
if Christina could leave without the laptop—the gizmo cost more than she made in a month. It
wasn’t on top of his desk, so she checked the wide middle drawer. No luck. She started with the
side drawers, the first, then the second, then . . .

At the bottom of the third drawer, under a hodgepodge of papers, she saw something gray and
metallic. At first, she thought it was the laptop, so she pulled it out. Wrong. Even from the
back, she recognized it was a picture frame.

Well, she was never one for denying her unquenchable curiosity.

The woman in the picture was not immediately familiar to Christina, but she was almost certain
she’d seen the face before. Not in person, but in another photograph. Perhaps a more formal one.
Here, she was laughing, her hair whipped behind her, looking out at the photographer with what
could only be called eyes of love.

But who was it? Christina racked her brain, searching for the answer.

And then it came to her. And when she remembered, it suddenly became all too clear what had
really happened.

In the corridor behind her, Christina heard someone approach.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it isn’t nice to rummage through other people’s belongings?
Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

Christina slowly turned to confront the person behind her, even though she already knew who it
was.

Marshall Bressler sat in his wheelchair, looking just as he always had. Except this time,
there was a very large gun in his right hand. Pointed directly at her.

“What the hell is going on here?” Todd Glancy said as he emerged from his private office, his
wife close behind him. Marshall Bressler was in the main lobby holding a gun on Christina.
“Marshall, have you lost your mind?”

“Maybe I have,” he said. There was something eerie about his voice, something Christina had
never heard in it before. “Maybe it’s been coming for a long time.”

“How did you get that gun in here?”

He smiled. “Same way I got in the knife.”

“What are you talking about?”

At that moment, Hazel entered through the front door. “What on—?”

“Get away from the door!” Marshall ordered. “Now!” The older woman slithered inside, her eyes
wide and fixed not so much on Marshall as on the weapon in his hand.

“All of you—get together. Huddle up in the center against the wall—by the Blue Beetle. Get
friendly.”

Marshall pushed his chair backward to the center of the lobby, waving the gun back and forth
to make sure everyone was covered. “I’m sorry it’s had to come to this, people. The only one I
wanted was you, Todd. All I ever wanted was you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t. Because it’s about me, not you. And in your world, it’s always about
you. You don’t give a damn about anyone else.”

“Marshall, how can you say that? After all the good we’ve done, you and me, working side by
side, fighting the good fight.”

Marshall’s teeth locked, his whole face displaying his contempt. “You don’t know anything
about me.”

“Then talk to us,” Christina said, trying to deflect his attention. It was obvious Marshall
was not stable and that he had some sort of grudge against Glancy. If they continued talking like
this much longer, that gun was going to fire. “What is it you want?”

“From you, nothing. You’ve never been anything but a warm, beautiful, caring person. All you
had to do was look at that picture for a second and you got it, didn’t you?” Christina didn’t
answer. “I could’ve put the damn thing out on my desk, and Todd still wouldn’t have
understood.”

“Maybe if you explain it to him. Maybe if we all just calm down and—”

“It’s too late for that!” Marshall’s voice soared in volume. His hands began to tremble. “I
very much regret having to do this to you, Christina. And to you, Marie, and Hazel.” He pointed
the gun at Glancy. “But now you’re all going to have to watch this son of a bitch die.”

“Marshall!” Glancy said. “You can’t mean it.”

“Believe me, I do.”

“Marshall!” Marie shrieked. “Please! I beg you.”

“Don’t waste your breath.”

“Marshall,” Marie continued, “look at me. Look—at—me!”

He did, and the instant he did, Todd Glancy dove toward the open front door. Marshall wheeled
around and fired, but he was well wide of the mark. He swiveled his chair then fired again, this
time missing by inches. Glancy did a forward somersault, landed on his feet, then raced through
the door.

“Come back, you miserable coward!” Another bullet shattered the jamb. But Glancy escaped.

“Marie—you traitor!” Enraged, eyes wide and red, Marshall whirled himself around to face the
three women huddled around the ancient copying machine. Without a moment’s hesitation, he raised
the gun and fired. Marie Glancy gasped, then tumbled to the floor.

Christina screamed. “Marie!” Hazel began sobbing.

“And I’ll kill you two just like I did her. Just like I did Veronica!” he shouted, weaving
back and forth in his wheelchair. “Nobody else moves. Nobody else speaks. Do you hear me?
Do
you hear me
? Because if you don’t do what I say, you’re both dead!”

By the time Ben arrived at the Russell Building, a siren was wailing and the Capitol police
had already cordoned off the area surrounding Glancy’s office. People were being evacuated as
quickly as possible. The FBI was on the scene as well. Todd Glancy had contacted the authorities
as soon as he escaped, and a full-fledged hostage situation had ensued. The federal agents were
assembling an operations center and trying to establish contact with Marshall Bressler, the
administrative assistant who was now holding three women hostage.

Including Christina.

“I’m Agent Martinez,” said a wide-framed officer wearing a standard FBI blue suit and white
shirt. “I’m the situation commander.” He gestured toward an older woman in a black sweater with a
brown leather gun holster slung over her shoulder. “This is Advisory Commander Cross. We
understand you know one of the hostages. A Miss McCall.”

“I know all of the hostages,” Ben explained. “But yes, I know Christina very well. She’s my
partner. We’ve worked together for years.”

“Good,” Martinez said, while simultaneously waving at an operative at the opposite end of the
hallway and pulling out his buzzing cell phone. “That could be useful.”

“You got here fast,” Ben remarked, impressed.

“We’re trained for speedy response. After 9/11, we have no choice. Anthrax, ricin, whatever
happens next, we have to be able to respond quickly to protect the nation’s leaders. Soon as we
got the call from Senator Glancy, we roped off the area and began evacuating the senators and
their staff across the street to the Library of Congress. We called out the HAZMAT team—the boys
in the white space suits. Just to be on the safe side. Tours have been shut down. The restaurants
closed. The pages have been given the day off.”

“Why the FBI?”

“We’re the hostage experts. The Capitol officers are used to dealing with poison in the mail
and streakers and such, but they’ve never had a full-out hostage scenario here before.” He
flipped open the lid of his phone. “Excuse me. It’s Lieutenant Carney, our tactical commander. I
have to take it.”

He moved to the other side of the corridor where he could talk with some semblance of quiet.
Although the passageway had been blocked off and all civilians had been evacuated, there were
still dozens of people in the corridor, all of them moving in busy crisscross patterns, pursuing
their appointed tasks with great urgency.

A large marker board had been set up at the top of the stairs. Ben didn’t comprehend a lot of
it, but he did recognize one sketch as a rough outline of Glancy’s office. Several names were
written to the side, with abbreviated duty assignments reduced to incomprehensible acronyms. And
at the top of the board, in bold black letters, someone had recorded THE FOUR STEPS OF SUCCESSFUL
HOSTAGE NEGOTIATION: TRUST, CONTAIN, RECONCILE, RESOLVE.

“I know you’re busy,” Ben said, grabbing the arm of Advisory Commander Cross, “but can you
give me some idea what’s going on?”

“We still don’t know what started it,” Cross patiently explained. She had short brunette hair,
an efficient cut that would prevent her hair from ever obstructing her vision. “But the Senator’s
administrative assistant has apparently gone psychotic. He has a gun—we don’t know how he got it
in the building. Maybe he overcame one of the security guards.”

“Bressler? He can’t even stand up.” Ben shook his head. “I know how he got the gun into the
building. Same way he got in the knife.” And then Ben explained it to her.

“He’s taken prisoners,” Cross said. “Senator Glancy managed to escape, barely, but Bressler
has at least three other hostages, maybe more. And one of them is wounded.”

Ben’s heart raced. “Which one?”

“Marie Glancy.”

Ben’s eyes closed.

“You look relieved.”

“No, of course not. How badly is she hurt?”

“We don’t know. Bressler has only spoken to us once, by cell, and he wouldn’t say much. All he
told us was what he wants.”

“Which is?”

“Safe passage out of the country. And Todd Glancy.”

“He wants to take Glancy out of the country?”

She shook her head curtly. “He wants to kill him.”

“Marshall,” Christina said, pleading, “why are you doing this?”

“The time comes,” Bressler said, his voice slow and menacing, “when a man has to take action.
Has to do what’s right. Stand up for the woman he loves.”

“I’ve been working with you for months. You’ve always been logical, reasoned—the one voice of
sanity in a crazy politically obsessed world.”

He laughed bitterly. “Guess you didn’t know me as well as you thought you did. Ben’s going to
have to get a new psychic.”

“But Marshall—taking hostages? In the U.S. Senate? You can’t possibly succeed. I don’t care
what you do to us—they’ll never let you leave. This is crazy.”

“Don’t call me crazy!” he bellowed. “Don’t ever call me crazy! That’s what that damn doctor
said. That’s why he kept cramming me full of those blue pills you’ve seen me taking, day after
day. Well, I don’t need the doctor, and I don’t need his stupid pills.”

“All right, all right.” Christina held her hands up, trying to placate him. Behind her, Hazel
was huddled beside the copying machine, crumpled on the floor. She had totally fallen apart,
melted into a useless heap, racked with sobbing. She wasn’t going to be any help. And Marie
hadn’t moved since the bullet caught her in the chest. If she wasn’t dead already, she would be
soon.

“Marshall, at least let them send in a doctor for Marie. She’s seriously wounded.”

“Serves her right. She was never any kind of wife to Todd. All she’s ever done is lay plots
and plans, look ahead to when Todd would be out of the way and she could start her own political
career.” He snorted bitterly. “There is some justice in that. Todd got exactly the wife he
deserved.”

“Whatever she may or may not have done, she doesn’t deserve to die. Please ask them for—”

“No doctors!” he yelled, his gun hand wobbling with such uncertainty Christina was afraid it
might fire at any moment. “If they want to send someone in, send Todd. He said in the courtroom
that he’d do anything for his wife. Fine. Let him come in and get her.” A thin smile spread
across his lips. “I’ll have quite a reception waiting for him.”

In the charging bay in the left arm of his wheelchair, Marshall’s cell phone sounded.

“They want to talk to you,” Christina said.

“I’ve already said everything I have to say.”

“Please talk to them. Maybe you can work something out. Some sort of compromise.”

“No compromises
! They give me what I want—
exactly
what I want—or I start
shooting.” He raised the gun again, wheeling himself closer and closer as Christina pressed up
against the wall. “And you’re next.”

Ben listened attentively as Agent Martinez attempted to reestablish contact with Marshall
Bressler. “Pick up the phone, man. Pick up the phone!”

Finally, on the overhead speaker, they all heard the click of the call being answered. “Have
you got Glancy?”

Martinez looked down at his legal pad. Ben could see that he was reading from prepared notes,
only improvising when necessary. “Mr. Bressler, I want to help you.”

“Then bring me Glancy!”

“I will consider any reasonable requests. And I won’t lie to you.”

Ben realized Martinez was trying to work his way through those key negotiation steps. But
Bressler wouldn’t even let him get to first base: Trust.

“There’s only one thing I want. Todd Glancy.”

“Be reasonable, sir. You know I can’t do that.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to shoot someone else!”

“Please don’t do that. You’ll only make your situation worse.”