Hostage (2001) (11 page)

'We'll figure it out.'

'It's going to be heavy.'

Dennis was getting more pissed off. He slapped Mars in the chest. It was like slapping a wall, but Mars averted his eyes. Dennis had learned that Mars would go along if you knocked the shit out of him.

'We can carry it, we can even stuff it up our asses, but we're not leaving here without it.'

Mars nodded, rolling over just as Dennis knew he would.

'I'm glad you found the money, Dennis. You can have my share.'

Mars was depressing him. Dennis told Mars to go back to the office to make sure Kevin wasn't fucking up. When Mars left, Dennis felt relieved; Mars was fucking weird and getting weirder. If he didn't want the money, Dennis would keep it all for himself.

He searched through the other closets in the bedroom until he found a black Tumi suitcase, the kind with a handle and wheels. Dennis filled it with packs of hundreds; worn bills that had seen a lot of use, not a crisp new note among them. When the suitcase was full, Dennis wheeled it into the bedroom and parked it on the bed. Mars was right: He didn't know how he was going to get out of here lugging that big-ass case. He wouldn't be able to sneak out a window and run through backyards, but they had two cars and three hostages. Dennis refused to believe that he had come this close to his destiny to let it slip away.

Dennis returned to the office and found Mars watching the television. Mars turned up the volume.

'It's on every channel, dude. You're a star.'

Dennis saw himself on television. The newspeople had cut one of Dennis's old booking photos into the upper right corner of the screen. It was a shot that made him look like Charles Manson.

The picture changed to an aerial view of the house they were in. Dennis saw police cars parked in the street and two cops hunkered behind the wheels. A hot newschick was saying how Dennis had recently been released from the Ant Farm. Dennis found himself grinning again. Something smoky rushed through Dennis's veins just as it did when he got away with stealing a car: Part anger and rage, part rush, part a groovy feeling like the whole fucking world was giving him high fives. Here he was with a million bucks for the taking, here he was on television. It was the big FUCK YOU to his parents, to his teachers, to the cops, to all the shitbirds who had kept him down. FUCK! YOU! He had arrived. He felt real. It was better than sex.

'Yeah! Fuckin' YEAH!'

He went to the door.

'Kevin! Come see this!'

The phone rang, spoiling the magic of the television. That would be Talley. Dennis ignored it, and returned to the television. The helicopters, the cops, the reporters - everyone was here because of him. It was The Dennis Rooney Show, and he had just figured out the ending: They would use the kids as hostages and boogie to the border in that big flashy Jaguar with the helicopters broadcasting every moment of the trip on live TV.

Dennis slapped Mars on the arm.

'I got it, dude. We'll use the Jaguar. We'll take the cash and the two kids, and leave their father here. The cops won't mess with us if we have those kids. We can boogie straight down to TJ.'

Mars shrugged blandly, his voice as quiet as a whisper.

'That won't work, Dennis.'

Dennis grew irritated again.

'Why not?'

'They'll shoot out the tires, and then a police sniper will put a bullet in your head from a hundred yards away.'

'Bullshit, Mars. O. J. Simpson drove around for hours.'

'O. J. Simpson didn't have hostages. They won't let us leave with these children. They'll kill us, and we won't even see it coming.'

The picture shifted again to an aerial view of the minimart surrounded by Highway Patrol cars. The view slowly orbited the cars. The movement made Dennis feel sick, like riding in the backseat of a car. He watched the cops crouched behind their cars, and worried that Mars was right about the snipers. That was just the kind of chickenshit double cross the cops would pull.

Dennis was still thinking about it when Kevin screamed from his position by the French doors.

'Dennis! There's cops all over the place out here! They're coming!'

Dennis forgot the snipers and ran to his brother.

Talley was in the cul-de-sac, waiting behind his car, when Dennis began shouting from the house. Talley let him rant, then opened his phone and called.

Dennis answered on the first ring.

'You fuck! You tell those fuckin' cops to move back! I don't like'm this close!'

'Take it easy, Dennis. Are you saying that you don't like seeing the officers on the perimeter?'

'Stop saying whatever I say back to me! You know what I mean!'

'I do that to make sure I understand you. We can't afford to misunderstand each other.'

'If these bastards try to come in here, people are gonna' die! Everybody's gonna die!'

'No one is going to hurt you, Dennis. I told you that before. Now give me a minute to see what's going on out here, okay?'

Talley hit the mute button on his phone.

'Jorgy, are you on with the perimeter?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Are they on the walls where we placed them?'

'Yes, sir. We've got two north on Flanders, and two more in each of the rear yards on either side. They're on the wall.'

Talley turned off the mute.

'Dennis, I'm checking into it, okay? Tell me what you see.'

'I see fuckin' cops! I'm looking right at'm. They're too close!'

'I can't see them from out here behind my car. Help me, okay? Where are they?'

Talley heard muffling sounds, as if Rooney was moving with the phone. Talley wondered if it was a cordless. Like all hostage negotiators, he hated cordless and cell phones because they didn't anchor the subject. You could fix a hardwired phone's location. Then you knew the subject's location whenever you had him on the line. If you launched a tactical breach, knowing the subject's location could save lives.

Rooney said, 'All the way around, goddamnit! These bastards over here at this white house. They're right on the goddamn wall! You make them get back!'

Talley hit the mute button again. The white house was a sprawling contemporary to Talley's left. A brushed-steel gate crossed the front drive. The house on the east side to Talley's right was dark gray. Talley counted to fifty, then opened the cell line again.

'Dennis, we got a little problem here.'

'Fucking right we got a problem. Make'm get back!'

'Those officers are Highway Patrolmen, Dennis. I'm with the Bristo Camino Police Department. They don't work for me.'

'Bullshit!'

'I can tell you what they're going to say.'

'Fuck what they say! If they come over that wall, people are going to die! I've got hostages in here!'

'If I tell these guys that you're being cooperative, they'll be more inclined to cooperate with you. You understand that, don't you? Everyone out here is concerned that the civilians in there with you are okay. Let me speak with Mr. Smith.'

'I told you they're fine.'

Talley sensed that everything inside wasn't as Rooney claimed, and that concerned him. Most hostage takers agreed to let their hostages say a few words because they enjoyed taunting the police with their control of the hostage; it made them feel powerful. If Rooney wouldn't let the Smiths talk, then he must be frightened of what they might say.

'Tell me what's wrong, Dennis.'

'Nothing's wrong! I'll let the sonofabitch talk when I get good and goddamned ready. I'm in charge of this shit, not you!'

Dennis sounded so stressed that Talley backed off. If anything was wrong in the house, he didn't want to make the situation worse. But having pressed Rooney for a concession, he had to get something or he would lose credibility.

'Okay, Dennis, fair enough for now, but you've still got to give me something if you want the patrolmen to back off. So how about this: You tell me who you have in there. Just tell me their names.'

'You know who owns the house.'

'We heard that those kids might have some friends over.'

'If I tell you, will you get these assholes to back off?'

'I can do that, Dennis. I just got word from their commander. He'll go along.'

Rooney hesitated, but then he answered.

'Walter Smith, Jennifer Smith, and Thomas Smith. There's no one else in here.'

Talley muted the phone again.

'Jorgy, tell the CHiPs to back off the wall. Tell them to find a position with a view of the house, but they can't be on the wall. Have them do it now.'

'Rog.'

Talley waited as Jorgenson spoke into his mike, then he went back to his phone.

'Dennis, what do you see?'

'They're pulling back.'

'Okay. We made it work, me and you. We did something here, Dennis. Way to go.'

Talley wanted Rooney to feel as if they had accomplished something together. Like they were a team.

'Just keep them away. I don't like them that close. They come over that wall, people are going to die in here. Do you understand what I'm saying? I'm not a guy you can fuck with.'

'I'll give you my word about that right now. We're not coming in there. We won't come over that wall unless we think you're hurting someone. I want to be up front about that. If it looks like you're going to hurt those people, we'll come in without warning.'

'I'm not going to hurt anyone if you stay away. That's all there is to it.'

'That's the way to play it. Just be cool.'

'You want these people, Talley? You want them safe and sound? Right now?'

Talley knew that Rooney was about to make his first demand. It could be as innocent as a pack of cigarettes or as outrageous as a phone call from the President.

'You know that I do.'

'I want a helicopter with a full tank of gas to take us to Mexico. If I get the helicopter, you get these people.'

During his time with SWAT, Talley had been asked for helicopters, jet aircraft, limousines, buses, cars, and, once, a flying saucer. All negotiators were trained that certain demands were non-negotiable: Firearms, ammunition, narcotics, alcohol, and transportation. You never allowed a subject the hope of escape. You kept him isolated. That was how you broke him down.

Talley responded without hesitation, making his voice reasonable, but firm, letting his tone assure Rooney that the refusal wasn't the end of the world, and wasn't confrontational.

'Can't do that, Dennis. They won't give you a helicopter.'

Rooney's voice came back strained.

'I've got these people.'

'The Sheriffs won't trade for a helicopter. They have their rules about these things. You could ask for a battleship, but they won't give you that, either.'

When he spoke again, Rooney sounded weaker.

'Ask them.'

'It can't even land here, Dennis. Besides, Mexico isn't freedom. Even if you had a helicopter, the Mexican police would arrest you as soon as it landed. This isn't the Old West.'

Talley wanted to change the subject. Rooney would brood about the helicopter now, but Talley thought that he could give him something else to think about.

'I saw the security tape from the minimart.'

Rooney hesitated, as if it took him a moment to realize what Talley was saying, then his voice was anxious and hopeful.

'Did you see that Chinaman pull a gun? Did you see that?'

'It played out just the way you said.'

'None of this would've happened if he hadn't pulled that gun. I damn near shit my pants.'

'Then none of this was premeditated. That's what you're saying here, right? That you didn't premeditate what happened?'

Rooney wanted to be seen as the victim, so Talley was sending the subtle message that he sympathized with Rooney's situation.

'We just wanted to rob the place. I'll admit that. But, fuck, here comes the Chinaman pulling a gun. I had to defend myself, right? I wasn't trying to shoot him. I was just trying to get the gun away so he couldn't shoot me. It was an accident.'

The adversarial edge disappeared from Rooney's voice. Talley knew that this was the first indication that Rooney was beginning to see Talley as a collaborator. Talley lowered his voice, sending a subtle cue that this was just between them.

'Can the other two guys hear me?'

'Why do you want to know that?'

'I understand that they might be there with you, so you don't have to respond to what I'm about to say, Dennis. Just listen.'

'What are you talking about?'

'I know you're worried about what will happen to you because the officer was shot. I've been thinking about that, so I've got a question. Was anyone else in there shooting besides you? Just a yes or no, if that's all you can say.'

Talley already knew the answer from Jorgenson and Anders. He let the question hang in the air. He could hear Rooney breathe.