When Darkness Falls

by James Grippando

  “I can,” said Theo.

  “Who asked you?” Falcon said sharply.

  Theo said, “The girl may be alive, but she’s deadweight. If you want it done right, not to mention quickly, then let me do it.”

  The part about “quickly” seemed to register with Falcon. “All right, big mouth. You got the job. But if you try to run for it…”

  “I know, I know. It’s a bullet in the back.”

  “That’s just for starters,” said Falcon. He pulled his strand of beads from his pocket, rolled the little balls of metal around in his hand, then added, “You can’t even imagine what will happen to the ones you leave behind.”

  JACK HESITATED BEFORE hitting speed dial on his cell phone. It suddenly occurred to him that, depending on how Paulo’s latest plan played out, this might be the last time he would ever dial Theo’s cell.

  Theo was numero uno on Jack’s speed-dial list, which Jack liked to think said less about his love life and more about the kind of friend he had in Theo. Having a bad day in court and needing a guy who really knows how to pour a drink? Dial 1 for Theo. Your classic Mustang’s been torched and you want to find the punk who did it? Just punch 1 for Theo. Is your client a hit man who needs to show his attorney a little more respect? Theo again. There was no limit to what Theo would do for Jack, which only exacerbated Jack’s feeling that he wasn’t doing nearly enough for Theo in his hour of need. For most people, it probably would have made perfect sense to follow orders and stand aside so that the police could do their job. That wasn’t Jack’s style, however. Couple that with the guilt Jack felt about having gotten Theo into this mess in the first place, and Jack was glad to take on a more active role in the rescue operation.

  He hit speed dial, and Falcon’s voice was on the line. “Are you coming to get the girl, Swyteck?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “I couldn’t have made it any clearer. You and Paulo. The dumb leading the blind.” He laughed way too hard at his own joke.

  “That’s a real knee-slapper, Falcon.”

  “Lawyers,” he said, his laughter ending with a scoff. “No sense of humor.”

  “It’s hard to laugh when you know the truth.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I know who you are.”

  “Well, that makes one of us.”

  “I know all about Marianna Cruz Pedrosa.”

  “What’s there to know? It’s just a phony name on the access list to my safe deposit box.”

  “No. I know much more than that.”

  “You’re so full of crap.”

  “I know about El Oso.”

  Jack wished that he could have seen Falcon’s reaction, but it was almost unnecessary. The silence on the line was profound.

  Finally, Falcon said, “Exactly how much do you know?”

  “Enough.”

  “How much is enough?”

  “Enough to keep my friend Theo alive. Unless you’d like me to share what I know with the media.”

  “What makes you think I care?”

  “The fact that you changed your name, lied about being from Cuba, went and lived in a burned-out car. The fact that you climbed up on a bridge and got arrested for trying to talk to the mayor’s daughter, and then holed yourself up in a motel room with hostages, and yet for some reason, you’ve never mentioned your dark side to anyone. Or should I say darkest side.”

  Falcon’s voice took on an edge, rising with agitation. “I’ll mention it when I’m good and ready.”

  “Or I’ll steal your thunder and do it for you.”

  “You keep your mouth shut!”

  “No problem. Just keep Theo and the other hostages alive.”

  He didn’t respond right away, but Jack could hear him breathing out his anger. “Don’t push me, Swyteck. I don’t like it.”

  “Nobody’s pushing you. All I’m saying is that if you harm any of the hostages, you lose your stage, your soapbox, your platform-whatever the hell it is you’re angling for.”

  “How do you know I want a stage?”

  “Because none of your other demands makes sense. And I don’t think you’re anywhere near as crazy as you lead people to believe.”

  Falcon’s tone changed again, less argumentative, more respectful of Jack’s insight. “I like you, Swyteck. Deep down, I really like you.”

  “I’m truly honored.”

  “That’s why I want you and Paulo to come get the girl.”

  “Fine. But then what?”

  “Then…” Falcon’s voice trailed off, and for a moment Jack thought he’d lost him.

  “Falcon? Then what?”

  “Then, it’s curtain time,” Falcon said, and the call ended.

  chapter 56

  T he drive back to the mobile command center was practically unbearable for Alicia. At least a half-dozen times, she had to fight off the impulse to jump onto I-95 and just keep going. She had no particular destination in mind. It was simply about getting away. Running, however, was rarely the answer. With the lives of at least four hostages still hanging in the balance, it wasn’t even a remote option.

  She switched on the car radio and caught the tail end of a news update at the top of the hour, delivered in rapid-fire cadence.

  “The hostage standoff between police and the homeless man accused of stalking Mayor Mendoza’s daughter now enters its eighteenth hour,” the announcer reported, “with no outward signs of progress. At least four hostages remain holed up in a motel room with the gunman, one of whom is now believed to be Walter Finkelstein, better known as Walt the Weather Wizard, the colorful meteorologist with Action News in Miami. More news at the bottom of the hour.”

  Alicia switched off the radio. To her knowledge, the identity of the hostages had yet to be released. The leaks were starting. With more than a little concern, she wondered what other secrets might find their way into the media.

  She returned to the staging area just before dark and found a parking space a few car-lengths down from the mobile command center. The rain continued to fall, though no longer in the blinding sheets that had made her drive to Coconut Grove so treacherous. Still, completely overcast skies and plenty of threatening dark clouds made for a premature dusk. Darkness came early in December, and on a miserable day like today it would come even sooner than usual, which gave her an uneasy feeling. She was no expert in hostage negotiations, but Vince was. He was living and walking proof that nightfall often triggered action in a hostage situation-for better or for worse.

  Alicia dodged raindrops as she darted toward the mobile unit and pushed the door open, entering with more of a flurry than she’d intended. “It’s me,” she said upon seeing the startled expression on Vince’s face.

  “You’re back,” he said. “I was beginning to think you’d left us for good.”

  “No, there was just something…something that came up. Can I speak to you alone for a minute, Vince?” Alicia glanced at the second negotiator from MDPD, who was gracious enough to volunteer that he needed another jolt of espresso. He pulled on a windbreaker that was already rain-soaked, stepped out into the drizzle, and left Alicia and Vince alone in the command center.

  “What’s up?” said Vince.

  Alicia pulled up a chair that faced him and sat close enough for him to feel her presence. She felt an urge to reach out and take his hands in hers, but she resisted, in this setting. “Vince, what do you know about Argentina’s Dirty War?”

  The question didn’t seem to surprise him the way she had thought it would. “Up until this afternoon, I’d say I knew virtually nothing.”

  “That probably puts you in the same boat as most Americans, except for the fact that your answer implies that you now know something about it.”

  “I have learned a few things.”

  “Did something happen while I was gone?”

  “Someone came forward with some information. A source.”

  “Who?”

  “An old woman who
cleaned out the cash from Falcon’s safe deposit box in the Bahamas.”

  “She stole it?”

  “No. It appears that he authorized access. He gave it to her.”

  “Why?”

  “She claims she knew Falcon. Told us all about him.”

  Alicia knew exactly whom he was talking about, and she was glad that Vince couldn’t see her reaction. “What did she tell you?”

  “Lots of things. Turns out that he spent most of the Dirty War torturing prisoners at one of over three hundred secret detention centers that the military dictatorship set up around the country to deal with dissidents. He was known as El Oso.”

  “How did she know him?”

  “Her daughter was detained there.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you?” said Vince.

  She wasn’t quite sure how to read his tone, but he didn’t wait for her response.

  “Interesting thing is that the detention center was called La Cacha. The guards gave it that name. It was short for La Cachavacha. Apparently there was a popular cartoon in Argentina called La bruja de la cachavacha, about a witch who could make people disappear.”

  “I know the cartoon,” she said.

  “El Oso and his buddies must have been a real bunch of comedians. I guess that’s what Falcon was hinting at when he kept talking about the witch and the Disappeared.”

  “What do you expect? You’ve seen him, talked to him. He’s crazy.”

  “No, he’s not crazy. He’s more of a sociopath.”

  “Is that what your source told you?”

  “She didn’t use that word, but she told us the stories. If it quacks like a duck and walks like a duck…”

  “What kind of stories did she tell you?”

  “Some pretty horrible things,” said Vince.

  “What?” she said, conveying more urgency than she would have liked.

  “Basically, her daughter was seven months pregnant when she was taken into La Cacha. Believe it or not, she was one of nineteen pregnant women detained and tortured there. Nobody ever saw her again, but there were rumors that she lived long enough to give birth.”

  “Does anyone know what happened to the baby?”

  “I couldn’t tell you.”

  “You didn’t ask her?”

  “She wouldn’t discuss it.”

  “You didn’t push it?”

  “It didn’t seem pertinent to the hostage negotiation. And when I say she wouldn’t discuss it, I mean she would not discuss it.”

  “You were okay with that?”

  “Actually, that was part of our deal. She was willing to tell us everything she knew about Falcon, but the more personal details about her daughter were her business.”

  “Was she hiding something?”

  “Could be. Or maybe it’s still too painful for her to discuss it. Either way, I always honor my deals with sources. She gave us plenty of helpful information about Falcon, and she asked for just one thing in return.”

  “What?”

  “She asked that I give something to you.”

  “To me?” she said, trying to act more surprised than she was. “What is it, the money?”

  Vince shook his head. He laid two files on the table. Alicia could see the entire label of the top file, which was written in Spanish. In translation, it read: SECRETARY FOR PUBLIC HEALTH. BUENOS AIRES. DURAND HOSPI-TAL. ATTENTION: DR. DI LINARDO. Only a portion of the label was visible on the second folder beneath it. This one, however, was written in English: AMERICAN ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF SCIENCE. WASHING-TON, DC. An abbreviation of some sort followed: CONADEP.

  Alicia had never seen the files before, never had any dealings with a Dr. Di Linardo or any of the listed entities. “What is this?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. It’s not for lack of interest, but obviously I didn’t read it.”

  “Your source didn’t tell you?”

  “No. That was our deal. She tells me all about Falcon, and I give you the files. But she insisted that what’s in there is between you and her.”

  Alicia was looking straight at the files, but she didn’t answer.

  “What’s wrong?” said Vince.

  “Nothing.”

  “Come on. The old lady said it was personal, but she also promised that you wouldn’t hate me for giving it to you.”

  “I don’t kill messengers, Vince.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Alicia couldn’t tear her gaze away from the files, but she was hearing that voice inside her head again-the one that had told her to get on the interstate and just keep driving. “I think it’s more than I want to know,” she said quietly.

  chapter 57

  S ergeant Chavez was in a SWAT power struggle, and he was determined to win it.

  As lead representative of the City of Miami’s tactical team, Chavez was inside the SWAT van with the head of Miami-Dade SWAT. Joining the debate by telephone were Chief Renfro from the city and the MDPD director. Paulo was not invited.

  “I thought this was settled hours ago,” said the director. “If a breach was necessary, Miami-Dade SWAT would lead it.”

  Chavez said, “It’s a different ballgame now. We’re not staging a straight breach. The breach occurs only if the city’s sniper misses the target.”

  The director asked, “How does that change things?”

  Chavez said, “The timing of the breach is tied directly to the sniper’s shot. My sniper is taking the shot. I’m in direct communication with him. We’re talking about split-second coordination here. It makes no sense to link the breachers from one law enforcement agency to the sniper of another and expect everything to come off with precision. Pile on top of that the fact that if we need a negotiator to intervene for any reason, Paulo’s also from the city.”

  Chief Renfro chimed in. “I think the sergeant has a point, Director.”

  Chavez was ready to press his argument further, but to his surprise, it wasn’t necessary.

  “All right,” said the director. “We’ll serve as backup. The city takes the lead.”

  Chavez wrapped up the phone call quickly, before the director had a chance to change his mind. As they headed for the door, he extended his hand to the MDPD’s SWAT coordinator, but the return handshake was lukewarm. Chavez didn’t care. Already, it was as good as “mission accomplished,” and not a single shot had been fired. He stepped down from the SWAT van and started toward the restaurant. Before sharing the news with his team, however, he picked up the telephone and dialed. Right at “Hello,” he went straight to the bottom line.

  “It’s done,” he said. “I’ll lead my team in first. MDPD’s SWAT will serve as backup.”

  “Very good,” was the reply. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “No, it’s everything. This Falcon is a stalker and a murderer. If your sniper misses and SWAT breaches, I don’t want a bunch of guys going in who are so afraid of losing a hostage that they can’t pull the trigger.”

  “The safety of the hostages is always paramount.”

  “Absolutely. That said, I want to be damn sure that if that door gets busted down, there’s at least one man on the team who is sharp enough, brave enough, and talented enough to take this guy out even if the place goes wild with screaming hostages. You understand?”

  Chavez could have launched into a lecture on the critical importance of knowing when not to shoot, but he decided just to shut up and take the compliment. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I read you loud and clear.”

  THE INJURED GIRL was deadweight in Theo’s arms. She was only semiconscious.

  It was getting darker by the minute inside the motel room. Theo had lost track of time, but it was obviously near nightfall. Daylight was no longer seeping into the room around the edge of the draperies, and they would have been in total darkness but for the very white, artificial glow that had replaced the natural light of day. Theo surmised that the police were aimin
g high-powered search lamps at the door and window.

  The two other hostages, Natalia and the weatherman, were seated on the floor, back to back. Their ankles and wrists were bound tightly, and with hands behind their hips, they were tied together at the elbows. Theo was standing before the door, which remained closed, though the pile of furniture had been pushed aside for a clean exit. His ankles were tethered together by a two-foot length of lamp cord, a makeshift version of the shackles he’d worn in another life on death row. He stood a full head taller than his captor. Falcon came up from behind and pushed the barrel of his pistol against the base of Theo’s skull.

  “I have no problem shooting you,” Falcon said in a calm voice.

  The feeling was entirely mutual, but Theo didn’t say it.

  “So don’t even think about running,” Falcon added.

  “Don’t worry,” said Theo.

  “No ducking, no sudden jerks from side to side. I’m standing right behind you. You’re my human shield, big guy.”

  The girl shifted in Theo’s arms, and Theo rocked forward onto the balls of his feet to keep his balance.

  “Don’t move till I tell you to!” Falcon said, pushing Theo’s head forward with his gun to emphasize the point.

  Theo froze, which forced him to hold the girl in a somewhat awkward position. “I’m not going anywhere. Just staying loose.”

  The gun remained in place, aimed at the back of Theo’s brain, as Theo listened. There was very little sound, like the eerie calm before the storm. He heard the discomfort in the injured girl’s breathing. He heard the distant hum of helicopters hovering somewhere above the motel. He could hear Falcon rummaging through his pocket for the cell phone and then punching out the number.

  “We’re coming out now,” Falcon said into the telephone. “If I open that door and see anything I don’t like, if I even sense something I don’t like, your friend Theo is dead.”

  Theo heard the close of the flip phone, Falcon’s call to Jack having ended. Two things were now certain.

  Falcon was ready to make his move.

  And so was Theo.

  chapter 58