Takeover - Lisa Black [59]
“That’s probably that negotiator dude. Can’t get rid of him.” Lucas snatched up the receiver. “Thanks for calling, Chris, but I really don’t need you anymore. I’ve got my car, I’ve got my posse, and we’re going to be leaving now.” He listened. “She’s fine…. Why?…. Yeah, but why?…I’m putting you on speaker.”
He turned. “Are you Theresa?”
She had stopped her motion toward the desk, afraid to move while he’d been distracted by the call, afraid to startle him. “Yes.”
“He wants you to get on the phone.”
She knew what he would say. “No. I don’t want to talk to him.”
“I don’t really care what you want, ma’am. Get over here.”
She began to shake, coming down from the adrenaline rush. Hadn’t she been through enough today? “No. He’ll yell at me.”
“You’re lucky I need a laugh, ma’am, because you’re sure giving me one. But that’s it. Get over here.”
She moved to him, breathing in gasps. The body of the telephone, a black and silver model, perched on the raised ledge of the reception desk. The “in use” light glowed red. Cavanaugh’s voice sounded tinny and much too far away. “Theresa?”
“I’m sorry, Chris.” Her hurried breaths dissolved into sobbing. “I’m sorry.”
“Theresa, it’s all right,” he soothed, and sounded as if he meant it. But then, feigning empathy was his stock-in-trade. “We’ll get through this okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Calm down. It’s all right.”
“I’m sorry. Tell Oliver I’m sorry.”
“Just calm down, okay? I will get you out of there.”
“Shouldn’t make promises you don’t know you can keep,” Lucas observed.
Theresa choked out, “Is Paul all right?”
“He’s in the ambulance now. They’re—”
Lucas interrupted. “Okay, you spoke. Now the lady is going to sit down and you’re going to hang up, Chris, because, like I said, I don’t need you no more.” He gave Theresa a small shove. She walked with leaden feet to join another woman who had lost her other half.
Perhaps Paul would live.
Perhaps she would not.
Was it worth it? Would Rachael agree? Would the girl ever forgive her mother for taking the risk, even if she lived? Even if Paul lived?
Ultimately it didn’t matter. She couldn’t stand by and do nothing while he died. She could not.
It was too late now anyway.
Stick to it.
Across the street Cavanaugh ripped off his headset and turned to Patrick. “Who the hell’s Oliver?”
CHAPTER 17
12:35 P.M.
“Listen up, people.” Lucas addressed them as a group while Bobby hovered nearby, out of sniper range.
Theresa took in her surroundings; the room she’d been watching in black and white had suddenly blossomed into reality, like Dorothy’s Technicolor Oz. The polished granite and the soaring, painted ceilings were quite beautiful. Pity to turn it into a mausoleum, a place for the dead.
“It’s twelve-thirty,” Lucas said. “I don’t want to hang around here waiting for that afternoon shipment, do you?”
He didn’t get a response but didn’t seem to expect one.
“So let’s forget that, and let’s forget the computerized vaults downstairs and their uncooperative robots. Where else is there money in this building? Anyone? Brad—jeez, relax, Brad, I’m not going to shoot you. I’ve got my car, so you’re safe. Where is the money?”
“If I tell you, will you let me go?”
Lucas studied him. “You getting cute on me, Brad? You think because Theresa and I made a deal that the table is suddenly open?”
The young man swallowed hard. “Yes. I’ll tell you if you let me walk out of here.”
“That doesn’t sound like a bad deal. I’d still have six of your coworkers, right?”
Brad nodded, his head bobbing quickly; his fellow hostages were on their own.
Next to him Missy clenched her fists as if restraining herself from slugging him. “Thanks a lot.”
“Don’t blame Brad because he’s less than altruistic. Some people are. Okay, tell me where the money is. When I have it in my bag, you can leave.”
The man opened his mouth, shut it again. He frowned in thought.
“You don’t really know, do you, Brad? You figured I’d take your word for it and shove you out the door. There’d be no one around but your fellow hostages by the time I found out