Known Dead_ A Novel - Donald Harstad [68]
‘‘Ask him who shot him, will you?’’
‘‘Sure,’’ she said into the phone. I could hear her talking to Lamar, asking him twice who had shot him, more loudly the second time. Then she seemed to be arguing with Lamar for a second. Then I heard his voice on the phone.
‘‘Zhad fummggem hurrmen.’’
‘‘What, Lamar? I can’t quite understand you,’’ I said apologetically.
‘‘THAT FUCKIN’ HERMAN!’’
‘‘Oh, okay, boss, got it. Thanks, thanks a lot . . .’’
Roger Collier, the trained negotiator, came hurrying over. He had a problem, which he had taken to Al, who referred him to me. Hmmm.
‘‘Anyway,’’ said Roger, ‘‘Herman wants to talk to the media.’’
‘‘He does? What about?’’
‘‘He wants to give them his side. He says we’re gonna sneak in and murder him for defending his property, and he wants the outside world to know what’s happening before we do that.’’
‘‘How nice.’’ I shook my head. ‘‘I dunno . . .’’
‘‘Well, he’s progressing, so to speak. Lots of guilt building in him by now. I’d definitely say we were at the ‘dismay and disappointment’ stage.’’ Roger looked really hopeful. ‘‘Throw in that hopeless feeling he’s going to get after he talks to the media, and there’s nothing left . . .’’
I looked around. ‘‘Where does he want to do the interview? We don’t really have a place, but if we can get him past the fence . . .’’
‘‘Oh, no,’’ said Roger. ‘‘He wants to do it in the house.’’
‘‘No.’’
‘‘Don’t say that, not yet. Just give it a second. This could be a break for all of us.’’
‘‘I don’t want a hostage.’’
‘‘That’d be the dumbest thing he could do,’’ said Roger.
‘‘He ain’t been overly bright so far,’’ I answered. ‘‘What makes you think he’s gonna start now?’’
‘‘So you want me to tell him we won’t allow it?’’
Damn. I had no idea what to do. I hate that. Well, when all else fails, be an administrator.
‘‘You’re recommending this . . . as our negotiator?’’
He looked a little surprised. ‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘Yeah, all right.’’ I thought for a second. ‘‘I just don’t want to have a news team in there. Cameraman and reporter. Lights. That’s a little too much, don’t you think?’’
‘‘Oh, he doesn’t want TV,’’ said Roger. ‘‘He wants newspaper.’’
‘‘Newspaper?’’ I couldn’t believe it.
‘‘He doesn’t trust TV. Says the Feds alter the signal, put in subliminal messages.’’ Roger shrugged. ‘‘Some people are like that.’’
I shook my head. ‘‘Okay.’’ I thought for a second. ‘‘This isn’t a manifesto sort of thing is it? I meant, not just a bunch of bullshit from a crazy?’’
Roger grinned. ‘‘No guarantees.’’
‘‘We can explain to him that it’s the decision of the press as to what they print?’’
‘‘Yeah. We might not want to do that, it might scare him off. But they could do it, and give him a lot better reasons than we could.’’ Roger shrugged. ‘‘You make the call.’’
‘‘What do you think, Roger? Will this soften him up?’’
‘‘Let me just say this . . . he’s scared. He’s really screwed the pooch on this, and he knows it. All we have to do is just wait for it all to sink in, and for him to realize that he’s just digging a deeper hole for himself.’’ He shrugged. ‘‘We just don’t want to let him dig too long, we want to have him reach that little conclusion as soon as possible. We don’t want to be here forever, or it gets to be a real game.’’
‘‘But, I mean, it’s harmless, isn’t it? But something he wants to do?’’ I asked.
‘‘Well, he sure wants to do it.’’
‘‘Cool,’’ I said. ‘‘Then let’s let him.’’
‘‘Any conditions? I mean, at some point, he’s going to be very, very ripe. If we get him to that point, and then prolong it, we lose the moment. So how about a time limit?’’
‘‘For the interview?’’
‘‘Yeah. That would be good.’’
‘‘Sure,’’ I said. ‘‘An hour good for you?’’
‘‘Fine. You have any questions I can help with?’’
‘‘What’s to ask? As far as I can tell, the only thing we have to do is to get an intrepid soul to go in and talk with him.’’ I thought again. ‘‘Does he want pictures?’’
‘‘He didn’t really say,’’ said Roger.
‘‘Well, shit, Roger. Go ask him.’’
About fifteen minutes later, Al, Roger, Hester, George, and I were all