Takeover - Lisa Black [55]
“I can’t have screaming in here, Theresa. They have that second monitor in the map room. You can watch from there. Hello, Lucas?”
“Well…” the robber drawled. “That was interesting.”
“What the hell is going on?”
“Where I come from, we call that a snake in the grass. Guy was a cop, and I didn’t know it. Serves me right for not searching everybody at the beginning, but I am a little shorthanded. And you know what? I still don’t see my car.”
“Shooting a cop is not a way to demonstrate good faith.”
“Point A.” The gunshots had rattled him; he seemed to be fighting to keep his voice low and insolent, but higher tones kept slipping out. “I didn’t know he was a cop because he neglected to mention it at the start of this exercise, which really wasn’t demonstrating any good faith on his part, don’t you think? Point B: What makes you think I’m interested in showing good faith? I don’t care if you have faith in me. All I want is my car!”
Theresa watched the monitor, her vision of the world narrowed to one nineteen-inch black-and-white screen. Paul had his back up against the reception desk; he had not moved his hands from his wound. The older black man next to him removed Paul’s suit jacket and began to wrap it around the injured leg, revealing the now-empty holster. “Trade him the car for Paul.”
Cavanaugh held the phone against his shoulder. “Get the special agent in here and her out.”
Jason trotted off to the conference room. He left Theresa to Frank.
She tried to modulate her tones, with extremely limited success. “He’s wounded in the thigh. If the bullet hit or even nicked an artery, he could bleed out in five minutes. Give Lucas anything he wants to get Paul out of there, or he’s going to die.”
“I understand that, Theresa. But there’s eight other people in that lobby I have to think of.” He pushed the “talk” button on the console. “Lucas, we need to get that wounded man out of there.”
“That would be good. He’s bleeding all over the freakin’ tile. Really ruins the look of it.”
Theresa let out a tiny sound, a whimper. Cavanaugh shot Frank a murderous glare.
“Honey,” the detective said to her, “I think he’s right. We should—”
“Tell you what.” Lucas’s voice continued, grating on the air like a sandblaster. “You give me our car, and we can leave. You can whisk EMS in here to fix this guy up, and everybody’s happy. Especially me.”
“Will you leave all the other hostages there, so just you and Bobby drive away?”
“There you go, thinking I’m stupid. No! All five—not the security guards—will come out to the car with us, as a wall between Bobby and me and your snipers. Once we’re in our car, they can rush off to your waiting arms.”
“How can I be sure you won’t take one of them with you? I’d be putting that person’s life at risk. I can’t make that deal, Lucas, not under those conditions. You have to leave the hostages in the bank.”
“Then this guy’s going to die, sooner or later. Probably sooner. He ain’t looking so good.”
“You have to give him his car, or Paul’s going to bleed to death,” Theresa said. She thought she said it slowly and clearly, but it came out jumbled and very loud.
“Get her out of here,” Cavanaugh ordered her cousin.
“Give him the car!”
He stood up so fast he knocked his chair over backward. “I can’t sacrifice a few bank employees just so your wedding will proceed as planned! It doesn’t work like that!”
On the monitor a dark stain began to show through the suit coat around Paul’s thigh, inexorably growing in size, spreading though the layers of fabric as the blood seeped from his body.
She moved closer to Cavanaugh. She was only going to touch his shoulder, that’s all, just to remind him that they were real people and not theories on which to practice his “perfect record” techniques. She didn’t intend to grasp his lapels or push against his chest with both hands. “Give him—”
“Patrick, get her out of here, or whatever happens next will be on you.”
Frank didn’t hesitate. “Just save his life,” he told Cavanaugh as he dragged Theresa from the room.
CHAPTER 16
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