When Darkness Falls

by James Grippando

  “He’s fine.”

  “I got guys chomping at the bit to beat that door down, Falcon. Help me out here. I need to hear his voice.”

  Falcon gritted his teeth, then walked over to Theo, who was still seated on the floor. Facing him, he put the gun to Theo’s left ear, the phone to his right. “Say something.”

  “There’s two more-”

  Falcon slugged him with the butt of the gun and snatched the phone away before Theo could finish. “Not so damn loud,” he said as he brought the phone back to his ear. He was furious but still whispering.

  Paulo said, “Falcon, do you have two more hostages?”

  “I want to talk to Swyteck.”

  “Why are you whispering?”

  “Because she’s here. In the bathroom.”

  “Who’s in the bathroom?”

  “It’s her. I know it’s her.”

  “Who is she?”

  “I can’t get rid of her!”

  “Falcon, take a breath and tell me who else is there with you.”

  Falcon was pacing furiously, but he was careful with each footfall so as not to make too much noise. “She’s always here. Everywhere I go, she just shows up.”

  “Who?”

  “She comes to the river. She comes to my house. She sits on my milk crate. She won’t go, she won’t never go! I beat the living crap out of her with a pipe and stuff her in the trunk, and she’s still here! Right here in the bathroom!”

  “Falcon, tell me who you’re talking about.”

  He cupped his hand around the receiver, containing his words so that no one would overhear. It made his whisper even raspier. “I have to tell Swyteck something.”

  “No problem. I can pass it on to him. What is it?”

  “Tell him-first tell him I still want my money.”

  “Okay, he’s working very hard on that. Anything else?”

  “Yeah,” he said as he shot a nervous glance toward the bathroom door. “Tell him I need, I really need, my fucking necklace.” He closed the flip phone and disconnected.

  chapter 30

  J ack was in search of the Bushman.

  Falcon’s demand for his necklace had made absolutely no sense to Sergeant Paulo. Jack, however, knew exactly what his client was talking about. He wanted the necklace of metal beads that had held the key to Falcon’s safe deposit box at the Greater Bahamian Bank amp; Trust Company. Problem was, Jack had last seen it around the neck of a homeless and extremely paranoid Jamaican called the Bushman.

  “Would you know this Bushman if you saw him again?” asked Paulo.

  “Sure. My guess is that he lives along the river, probably not far from Falcon’s car. If someone can give me a ride, I’ll find him.”

  “I’ll go,” said Alicia.

  Jack had yet to tell anyone about his private talk with Alicia’s father, but the upshot of that conversation made it seem like a good idea to take the mayor’s daughter away from the command center and the lead negotiator. “Great. Let’s go.”

  They took Alicia’s personal car, so she had to flash her badge to get through the traffic-control perimeter. Miami Avenue took them south, toward the river. They parked at a metered spot near Tobacco Road, Miami’s oldest bar, a place where Theo had on many occasions blown the saxophone until the wee hours of the morning. Jack wasn’t searching for memories, but it was amazing how the prospect of losing a friend made you see him everywhere and in everything.

  “What does this Bushman look like?” said Alicia as they walked along the north side of the river.

  “The thing I remember most is that he had about three miles of dreadlocks tucked up under a bulging knit cap, and the whole blob on top of his head was wrapped in aluminum foil. It reminded me of Jiffy Pop.”

  “Of what?” said Alicia.

  “Remember in the days before microwave popcorn how you would cook it on the stove in that little container that looked like a pie tin? As the corn popped, the foil on top would blow up like a big aluminum balloon? Well, that’s the Bushman’s head.”

  “There was popcorn before microwaves?” she said.

  Jack was about to answer, but he noted the little smile, a signal that she was yanking his chain. Nothing like being made to feel old by a young and beautiful cop.

  Jack walked around a heap of rusted metal that appeared to be part of an old barge. “Your father corralled me for a talk before I came back to the command center this morning.”

  She cast him a tentative look. “What about?”

  “He’s very concerned that you might play too active a role in this hostage negotiation. He made me promise that if I talk to Falcon, I won’t even mention your name.”

  “My father means well. But you should do whatever Sergeant Paulo tells you to do.”

  They continued walking. The terrain was flat, but the piles of junk along the river were getting more formidable. With an active hostage-situation back at the hotel, Jack felt as though he should be running to find the Bushman, but he had to watch his step with all the twisted metal along the banks. “What can you tell me about Paulo?”

  “He’s excellent.”

  “How well do you know him?”

  She hesitated just long enough for Jack to sense that it was a complicated question. “Very well,” she said.

  “I hope you don’t mind my asking this, but is he totally blind?”

  “Yes. Now, before you freak out, just remember that he’s an experienced negotiator. Listening, talking, persuading-that’s the essence of his job, and none of it is tied to his sight. It’s not like he’s a blind cosmetic surgeon about to feel his way through your nose job.”

  Jack did a little face-check. “What’s wrong with my nose?”

  “Nothing…”

  “Good.”

  “…that a little plastic surgery couldn’t fix.”

  “Ah, cop humor. That’s one thing we criminal defense lawyers just can’t get enough of.”

  Alicia stopped and pointed. “Is that him?”

  Just ahead, near the bridge, a man was asleep on the ground. His winter jacket was so dirty that his form nearly blended into the earth, but the morning sun reflected off his shiny headgear like a chrome globe. “Gotta be the Bushman,” said Jack.

  They approached with caution, the way anyone might approach a guy who slept alongside the river with his head wrapped in aluminum foil. He lay curled up on his right side. A charred, empty crack bowl was on the ground beside him. A stray cat was licking something off of his hand, but the Bushman wasn’t moving. It was hard to tell if he was even breathing.

  “Bushman?” said Jack. He still didn’t move. Jack tried a little louder, “Hey, Bushman!”

  The Bushman groaned and slowly propped himself up on one elbow. “What you want, mon?”

  “Remember me? It’s Jack Swyteck-your friend Falcon’s lawyer.”

  The Bushman sat up, but he paid little attention to his visitors. He started smacking his lips, as if trying to decide whether he could live with the foul taste in his mouth.

  Alicia said, “Falcon needs your help.”

  He stopped smacking. “Who are you?”

  “She’s with me,” said Jack. He didn’t want to sic the cop on him just yet. “Falcon wants his necklace back.”

  “You talked to him?” said the Bushman.

  Jack didn’t answer directly. “He’s in a lot of trouble, and he just said he really, really needs his necklace.”

  A look of concern came over the Bushman. “She must be back.”

  “Who must be back?”

  “That woman I was telling you about. I thought she was just another one of Miami’s homeless. But Falcon explained to me, mon. She’s not one of us. She’s one of them.”

  “One of them?”

  “Yeah, mon. They keep coming back, you know? You can’t be nice to them. You can’t take them at their word. They just never stop.”

  “Never stop what?”

  “Stop looking. For the house.”

>   “What house?”

  He checked over his shoulder, as if to see if anyone was listening. Then he whispered, “La casa de la bruja.”

  “The witch’s house?” said Alicia. Jack, too, had been able to translate it, but she was a tad quicker.

  The Bushman winced. “Not so loud, lady. They’ll hear us.”

  Jack said, “Who lives in the witch’s house?”

  “Nobody lives there. It’s just where they go.”

  “Where who goes?”

  “You know, who we talked about before. The Disappeared.”

  Time was precious, and Jack feared that the Bushman might be wasting too much of it. But with the mention of the Disappeared, Jack had to take a shot. “Bushman, if I told you that Falcon sent me on an errand, and that when I got there I found a note that asks in Spanish, ‘Where are the Disappeared?’-would you be able to answer that question?”

  “Of course I would. La casa de la bruja. Don’t you understand nothing I’m saying to you, mon?”

  “No,” Jack said, shaking his head slowly. “I wish I did, but I honestly don’t have time to sort this crap out. We need the necklace.”

  “It’s mine now.”

  “Falcon wants it back.”

  “Too bad. He gave it to me.”

  “What do you want for it?”

  “It’s not for sale.”

  “There must be something you want.”

  The Bushman considered it. Then he looked at Alicia and smiled. “I want to see her tits.”

  “No problem,” said Alicia.

  “Really?” said the Bushman.

  “Yeah, really.” She reached inside her jacket and pulled out her badge. “How’s that for a rack?”

  The Bushman swallowed the lump in his throat.

  “Now give us the damn necklace,” she said.

  chapter 31

  T heo watched with concern as Natalia tended to her girlfriend’s wounded leg. She was still in the bathtub, and Natalia was kneeling beside her on the bloody tile floor. Theo and the other male hostage were seated in the dressing area just outside the bathroom, facing the open bathroom doorway, their backs against the wall and their hands and feet bound tightly. Falcon paced nervously from one end of the room to the other. He was sweating but refused to remove his coat. Theo was perspiring, too, as the room seemed to grow warmer with each passing minute. The lack of any ventilation gave the air a heavy, stale quality, as if they were drawing the same breath over and over again.

  As best Theo could recall, this had all begun with a woman’s scream. Theo had burst into the room, and Falcon had fired a single gunshot. The errant bullet had apparently passed right through the bathroom wall and hit Natalia’s girlfriend in the thigh.

  “How is she?” said Theo.

  “Shut up!” said Falcon. He was still pacing, mumbling, as if struggling to formulate a coherent sentence. It seemed to frustrate him to no end that he was incapable of improving upon Theo’s words. “How is she?” he said.

  “The bullet tore through the skin and took a little piece of her thigh with it,” said Natalia. “But the bleeding has stopped.”

  “Good,” said Falcon. “No more bleeding. That’s real good.”

  “It’s good only if her heart’s still beating,” said Theo.

  “Shut up, you!” shouted Falcon. Then he looked at Natalia and said, “It’s still beating, right?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “She’ll have a nasty scar when this thing heals, but it looks like she’s going to be okay.”

  Theo winced at the response. Natalia was too far away to hear his whisper, so he waited until Falcon paced to the far end of the room, and then he spoke through his teeth. “Tell him that your friend needs a doctor.”

  Falcon wheeled and said, “I heard that! I won’t have any phony emergencies around here. You hear me?”

  “This isn’t phony,” said Theo. “Look at her. She’s barely conscious.”

  “I decide who needs a doctor. That’s my call. I’m in control here. Understand?”

  Theo worried about pushing too hard, but he didn’t want to let this drop. “Look, dude, you got three other hostages. Let this one go, okay? We’re talking about a gunshot wound from a pretty mean pistol you’re packing there. The bleeding may have stopped, but she’s a bloody mess already. She could go into shock, and you don’t need that kind of hassle.”

  Falcon’s expression tightened. He seemed to be considering it.

  Theo said, “You need to get her outta here.”

  “I know, I know! Everybody just shut up!”

  Theo said, “Be smart, dude. Cut a deal. Give up the girl, but get somethin’ in return. Maybe this is the bargaining chip you need to get that necklace you talked about.”

  Falcon clearly liked the idea of negotiating, but he seemed less than keen on giving up a hostage. He dug the cell phone out of his pocket and gripped it tightly.

  “That’s it,” said Theo, egging him on. “Make ’em start talking.”

  “Swyteck,” Falcon said, barking into Theo’s cell phone. “Where’s my damn money? And where’s my necklace?” His face reddened with anger, as if he didn’t like the response. “Don’t give me any more excuses. I want my money and my necklace. You got five minutes. If my shit ain’t here by then, I shoot the black guy. You hear me? I’m gonna take out my gun, and I’m shooting your smart-mouthed friend right in the head!”

  He muttered something under his breath and shoved the phone back into his pocket. Theo shot him a knowing expression, fully conveying that Falcon hadn’t fooled him.

  Falcon said, “What are you looking at?”

  “You didn’t open the flip phone,” said Theo. “You can’t make a call if you don’t open the flip.”

  Falcon smiled, as if suddenly this were all just a big joke. “Didn’t open the flip phone. That’s some really bad news for you, isn’t it?”

  “I’m not followin’ you, dude.”

  Falcon stepped closer, speaking in a low, threatening voice. “Your friend Swyteck has a five-minute deadline,” he said as he aimed his pistol at Theo’s forehead. “And he doesn’t even know it.”

  chapter 32

  T he command center was starting to smell like bad coffee. People came and went, but their coffee cups remained behind. Did anyone ever actually dispose of disposable coffee cups? Jack counted thirteen half-empty ones lying around. Theo would have counted thirteen half-full ones, even with a maniac holding a gun to his head and a sleep-deprived lawyer about to negotiate for his release. They were just wired differently, or at least they held fundamentally different perceptions of Jack’s abilities. To Theo, Jack was a miracle worker, the tenacious young lawyer who had gotten him off death row. To Jack, Theo was the figurative sponge that had already soaked up Jack’s lifetime allocation of luck-and then some.

  “Try not to use the word ‘no,’” Sergeant Paulo said to Jack. “No matter what Falcon says, no matter what he asks for, just don’t slam any doors in his face.”

  The Bushman’s request for a peep show suddenly popped into Jack’s mind. “What if he asks to talk to Alicia?” said Jack.

  “That’s a good example,” said Paulo. “Tell him that you’ll have to check on that. You’ll look into it. Make no promises, but don’t shut him down. You’re in the perfect position, because there really isn’t anything that you can give him without getting approval from the police, the mayor, Alicia, or whoever.”

  “Do I raise this issue of the Disappeared?”

  “Don’t force it,” said Paulo. “If it comes up, go with it. But remember, he has yet to use that term with us. I’m afraid to raise it with him until we understand the concept better. If we just spring it on him, we may unleash some personal demons that could cause him to freak out and hurt one of the hostages.”

  “His arrest record said he came here from Cuba,” said Jack. “Maybe we should check and see if los desaparecidos is a way of referring to the homeless in Cuba.”

  “That’s a good tho
ught,” said Paulo.

  Jack looked at Alicia and said, “What do you think?”

  The question seemed to jar her from deeper thoughts. “Me?”

  “Yeah. Your Spanish is excellent-a heck of a lot better than mine, anyway. What do you think about the notion of the homeless being the Disappeared?”

  “Hard to say. I suppose it’s worth looking into.”

  “Do you have a different theory?”

  She paused before saying, “No. Not really.”

  Jack sensed that something was being left unsaid, though as a criminal defense lawyer he often got that feeling when talking with cops. He glanced at Paulo but couldn’t read his expression. Jack let it go.

  “You ready to make the call?” asked Paulo.

  “Yeah,” said Jack. “Let’s do it.”

  Alicia slid the phone to the center of the table and dialed the number. Jack drew a deep breath and let it out with the first ring. It rang twice more before he inhaled again. On the fourth ring, Falcon answered.

  “Joe’s Deli,” he said.

  The stupid joke threw off Jack’s rhythm momentarily. “Falcon, it’s me. Swyteck.”

  “You got my necklace?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I do.”

  “What about the money?”

  Jack searched for the mantra that Paulo had planted in his head. “We’re working on the money.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “No problem. Just typical offshore banking hassle. Be cool.”

  “I want my money.”

  “I understand. But right now we’ve got the food Paulo promised you-some burgers, fries, and nice cold drinks. And we have your necklace. That’s a pretty darn good start, don’t you think?”

  “Minimal,” he said.

  “But you know the drill. Even little things count for a lot, especially when you’re dealing with cops. If it were up to me, I’d just give all this stuff to you. But these guys always want something in return. So, I hate to do this to you, pal. But what are you gonna give me?”

  “Let me think about that.”

  “How about-”