Takeover - Lisa Black [36]
Click.
“Lucas?” Cavanaugh asked, without result. He sounded worried to Theresa, but perhaps this was a projection of her own terror.
“Come on,” she said to Jason. “We’re going.”
She turned and led the way out of the lab without looking back. They took the stairs.
“What’s on your mind, Theresa?” Jason’s voice sounded almost as smooth as his boss’s, and that only irritated her.
“He isn’t going to hold out much longer. I don’t know why he wants the stupid car, and I don’t care. All I know is that I can at least get that into place in case he decides to start shooting. He’s melting down, this Lucas.”
“All due respect, Mrs. MacLean,” Jason told her as he followed her down two flights, “but you’ve never been through a negotiation in your life, right? Perhaps you’re not the best person to predict what’s going to happen.”
She reached the bottom, held the door as he caught up. “All due respect, Jason, but you can’t stop me.”
CHAPTER 11
10:55 A.M.
“The car’s here,” Theresa announced as soon as she reached the reading table. Cavanaugh sat in front of the phone system, with the scribe, Irene, at his side and another woman next to Irene. Both Frank and the head librarian had left; Kessler sat drinking coffee as if it were an act of penance. Jason took a seat on the other side of Cavanaugh. Assistant Chief Viancourt browsed the library shelves with polite interest, the way one might do at the in-laws’ house. “It’s down on Superior, in front of the Hampton Inn,” she added.
Cavanaugh looked at her with a gaze so sharp she wondered what he saw. A red face and a crumpled blouse, a voice tight enough to tune a violin—not a professional scientist but a woman on the edge? She forced herself to take a deep breath, slow to a stop, drape one hand over the back of a chair as if she had nothing better to do than drop by the library on this sunny morning.
He said only, “Can they see it from the lobby?”
“Not unless they go through the employee lobby and the security team to the Superior entrance.”
“Good.” He turned back to the woman in front of him, middle-aged, black, wearing a navy suit and sensible shoes. “Go on, Mrs. Hessman.”
Theresa sidled over to the nattily dressed assistant chief of police, now perusing the spine of The British Museum Catalogue of Seals. She introduced herself to the man, who cooed with admiration over how “cool” her job must be before she could go on. He did not seem to know about her relationship with Paul, and she did not see the need to inform him. “I can use your clout on something.” She handed him the blank, powder-processed envelope from the robbers’ car and explained about the postage-meter number. “They won’t be able to give it to me, not immediately. I’d have to fax them all sorts of letters and forms. But someone in your position…”
Theresa had never been much of a manipulator, and she couldn’t believe how easy it was. The man’s chest expanded, and he nodded with great solemnity. He even patted her hand and told her he’d have it taken care of in no time before striding forcefully from the room. She watched him leave. The poor guy just wanted something to do.
Now if she could convince Cavanaugh to give Lucas his car back, her day might end well after all.
Theresa leaned against the metal shelving, listening to Cavanaugh question the woman, trying to stay still and quiet and patently under control. She wished Frank were there. She worked with cops every day but was not one of them, and she liked having Frank and Paul to buffer the unfamiliar faces.
“You handled getting Mark Ludlow on board?” the hostage negotiator asked.
“Yes. A number of our bank examiners were hired at the same time, so they all retired at the same time, and we didn’t have enough qualified replacements locally. It’s hard to find an experienced Fed examiner who wants to move, much less move to Cleveland, I’m sorry to say.”
She chuckled, and Cavanaugh nodded. A survey of large cities with good