by Jen J. Danna
“I haven’t been physically harmed.” Unsaid was the first deputy mayor’s stress level, since he was being held hostage. “You’ll talk to him?”
“I will. I’ll do everything I can to get you out of there.”
And the rest of the hostages, Gemma thought, but the words went unsaid by the mayor.
Rowland continued, “The team I’m working with knows—”
Gemma was reaching to close her fist over Rowland’s headset microphone, but McFarland was already ahead of her. He jabbed a button, looked up, and said, “Muted.”
Garcia leaned over the table, temper snapping in his eyes. “You’re going to risk getting them all killed. Do not give away any information about our operation or any information we specifically know. We don’t know if the suspect is listening or if he’ll harm Willan to get the information from him.” He nodded at McFarland. “Unmute it.” He stabbed a finger at Rowland and mouthed, “Go.”
Rowland stared blankly at him for a moment. “Uh . . . the team I’m working with is really solid and will treat your guy fairly. Charles, hang tough. I’m going to help them get you all released.”
“Kevin, if I don’t make it out—”
Rowland cut him off. “I don’t want to hear that.”
“I know. But if not . . . tell Sonia I love her. And make sure she’s taken care of. I wouldn’t trust anyone more than you.”
“Christ, Charles. Of course, I will.” Rowland drew in an uneven, shaky breath and straightened his shoulders as if going into battle. “I’ll see you when this is all over and the first round at Carmichael’s is on me. Hell, I’ll buy one for the whole damn place to celebrate. Now give the phone back to him.”
“Rowland?” The suspect was back on the line.
“Patrick, I’d like to avoid any more violence, so please tell me how I can help you.”
“And you’ll listen? And fix the problem?”
“Tell me what you need and I’ll do my best.”
“That’s not good enough.” Anger crept into the suspect’s tone.
Gemma could feel the conversation already sliding sideways and hurriedly wrote and passed a note to Rowland: Don’t argue with him. Ask him to explain the problem so you can help.
Rowland scanned the note and gave her a curt nod. “Let’s start with the problem, Patrick. It must be something that has you very upset to feel this is your only option.”
The laugh that carried across the line was dark with cynicism. “You might say that.”
“Tell me about it. And then we’ll see how we can help each other.”
The man paused for a moment. The room behind him was silent, as if the hostages were collectively holding their breaths, waiting on his next word. “I want you to reverse the decision on stop-and-frisk.”
Rowland’s head jerked sideways to stare at Gemma in confusion. “This is all about stop-and-frisk?”
Upheld by a Supreme Court ruling in 1968, stop-and-frisk had been a controversial tactic used by police forces for decades, allowing officers to conduct a “reasonable search” of an individual before a potential arrest if they believed that individual to be dangerous. Police officers said it allowed them to find weapons and to protect both themselves and the community. However, members of the public protested that stop-and-frisk perpetuated racial profiling of blacks and Latinos. It had been such a contentious issue in New York City for decades that part of Rowland’s mayoral platform was dedicated to doing away with the practice. After winning the election, city council passed strong legislation against racial profiling and Rowland had worked personally with the NYPD brass to institute a number of new protocols, including de-escalation and bias training, and the use of body cameras by officers.
“We need to talk about the city’s stance on it,” the suspect continued.
“It’s not just the city’s stance on it,” Rowland protested. “I campaigned on the issue. I was elected on it. It’s what the people wanted.”
“Not everyone.”
Alarm bells were already going off in Gemma’s head, but through the building noise, her subconscious gave her a jolt of clarity as her elusive thoughts suddenly coalesced.
“I’m listening,” she had said.
“That’s what you do, isn’t it?” he’d replied.
He wanted to reinstate what many saw as an illegal search and seizure, trampling the personal rights of the public as a means to an end. There was a subset of one group that felt it was an acceptable practice and wanted it back.
His pause when she’d given him her name. Then moments later, he had asked: “Does your daddy approve of your career?”
That wasn’t misogyny. That was name recognition. He didn’t mean any daddy; he meant Tony Capello.
Her eyes shot wide and she grabbed for her paper and pen, hurriedly scrawling, and then she turned the paper around and pushed it across the table toward Garcia.
He’s a cop.
She didn’t have time to watch Garcia’s reaction because Rowland’s conversation was careening straight off a cliff.
“I’m sorry if that’s how you feel, because I really want to help you. But on both constitutional and legal grounds, my hands are tied.”
Gemma motioned to Rowland to wrap up the call. She could see he was getting emotional and she needed him to end the conversation before he said anything to make the situation worse.
“So that’s it. You’re not even going to try. I guess First Deputy Mayor Willan’s life doesn’t mean anything to you.”
“No, no! Of course, it does!” Rowland’s tone took on an emphasis of stress, as if he was just realizing his single-minded crusade might not be appropriate now. “But this isn’t my call. City council is involved, and legal. This isn’t something I can change on my own. There must be some other way I can help you. Something else I can do.” He cast desperate eyes up toward Gemma. “We can make an exchange. We’ll do something for you, and you can send Willan out.”
Gemma winced inwardly, trying not to let the expression show on her face. They had injured who needed medical care, but the mayor was really only interested in one person. She needed to get back into this conversation before the hostage taker ended all channels of communication.
“Patrick, it’s Gemma again.” Keeping her voice cool and soothing, she laid a hand on Rowland’s arm and squeezed. Let me take over. “Clearly, you have the mayor’s attention and he wants to help. I think you need to give us more time. You’re asking for a pretty major change.”
“It’s what I want.”
“I understand that.”
“I’m not sure you do. How about a little more incentive?” The unmistakable metallic snick of the hammer of a gun pulling back sounded, followed by a woman’s cry in the background. “What if time isn’t something I’m interested in? Let’s play this game. You’ve got fifteen minutes. If I haven’t heard from you in that time, I’m going to execute the first hostage.”
More cries and a low moan of “No, no, no” in the background.
“And then I’ll just keep doing that every fifteen minutes until I hear from you.” The suspect’s voice rose, getting louder and more insistent with each word. “Will that make you take me seriously?”
There are times in a negotiation when a corner has to be turned or else lives will be lost. Gemma knew this was one of those times.
All pretense of being a submissive female dropped away. “Patrick, stop. Listen to me. We hear you. But you’re not asking for ten thousand dollars in small bills and an escort across state lines. You’re asking for something that takes time and can’t just be the mayor’s decision. You have to let us work on this. Or else everything you’ve done here today will be for nothing. You’re doing this for what you consider to be a good reason. Don’t throw it all away because you want to rush.” She glanced at Garcia, who gave her a nod of encouragement. “Let’s make a deal.”
“I don’t think you’re in a position to make deals.”
“Actually, I am. Because
you need something from us.”
“Something you can’t give me.”
“But what if we can?” Gemma glanced at Rowland, who was looking up at her like she’d lost her mind. “Mayor Rowland just said that city council is involved. You know how politics works—one city council makes a law, the next one changes it. Why can’t the same council change its own mind on a law it’s already passed? You know, if they come to see the error of their ways.”
Silence came through the line, but at least he didn’t disagree with her.
“What do you need from me? You know this can’t be done quickly—so, what would satisfy you? A commitment from council members to reverse the policy? You know it didn’t pass with one hundred percent support, no law ever does. How about we start with that? I’ll provide a list of council members who would support your cause as a first step. Better yet, let me see if I can get the council majority and minority leaders in. You can talk to them yourself, get their commitment to your cause. But then you need to do something for me.”
“Why?”
“You know how this works, Patrick. We do something for you, you do something for us.”
“Like?”
“I want Rob Greenfield. We’ll do an exchange. Greenfield for all the information we can compile on that bill and a chance to speak to the council leaders.”
Rowland grabbed her wrist and she shook him off with a single hard flick. She already knew where his priorities lay, but she had to get the injured man out and to a medical facility. More than that, her gut told her he’d turn down the suggestion of an exchange for Willan because he felt the first deputy mayor was his main point of leverage. She needed to keep him focused on forward motion, not kill the embryonic compromise before it ever had a chance.
“Patrick? Talk to me. What do you think? Can we work together on this?”
“Maybe.” His voice was sullen. “But I’m not willing to wait all day.”
“I don’t want to wait all day either. I’d like to see Mr. Greenfield getting medical care as soon as possible. I’ll call you in thirty minutes with an update and, hopefully, council members for you to talk to. But I need your word the hostages will be safe during that time. I can only get people down here so fast.”
Seconds of silence stretched out. Gemma’s head bowed and her eyes closed as her hope for the situation wavered. Come on, come on . . .
“Fine.”
Her head shot upright with a grin of triumph at McFarland across the table. “Thank you.” She carefully kept any trace of victory out of her tone. “Thirty minutes, Patrick. You have my word on it. And I have yours the hostages will be untouched?”
“Yes.” He hung up without another word.
Gemma sat down heavily and blew out a long breath. “That was close. I wasn’t sure we’d pull out of that one.”
“You aren’t the only one.” Garcia drilled an index finger onto the legal pad. “I know we’ve got to move fast here, but what makes you think he’s a cop?”
“In addition to wanting to reverse the decision on stop-and-frisk,” Taylor cut in. “As a black man, I understand my brothers’ desire for fair treatment. As a cop, I understand why other cops are upset about it, but understanding doesn’t mean I agree they should be allowed to trample personal rights. So that earmarked him potentially as a cop for me, but I suspect you heard something I missed.”
“It was a couple of things he said. When I told him listening is what I do, he agreed with me in a way that, looking back on it now, felt like someone familiar with our protocols. He knows what HNT does and how we do it. And that’s a problem. The other was subtler, but it was his reaction to my name. It caught him, when it shouldn’t have. Your name didn’t give him pause, sir,” she said to Garcia. “He just kept going. But when he heard the name Capello, it stopped him momentarily.”
“I didn’t catch that,” McFarland said. “But put that in with the fact he asked later if your daddy approved of your career as a cop, then that’s not the old-fashioned, sexist comment we chalked it up as. It’s a comment directly referring to Chief Capello.”
“That’s how I’m seeing it now. Our hostage taker is not just on the job, he’s NYPD.”
“That’s going to add an extra level of difficulty then,” said Taylor. “He will be familiar with every protocol we have in place. He will know what teams we called in, possibly even the individual officers themselves. And he will know we have sharpshooters on every nearby rooftop, severely limiting his chance of escape.”
“It also explains his location.” Garcia pointed at blueprints in the middle of the table. “Someone who didn’t know what they were doing would probably take over the mayor’s actual office. There’s more room in there, and a comfortable chair he can sit in to feel like he’s the one running the city. It would be an ego boost for your average Joe. But it’s also a room with large windows and straight shots from several nearby rooftops, even with the surrounding tree cover. But this guy picks a completely internal room so no one has eyes on any of them, and no sniper has line of sight on him specifically. We thought he might be military, but he’s law enforcement.”
“The other important factor we’re in the dark on is what’s his trigger?” McFarland asked. “We’re not looking at some out-of-control citizen who snapped and is trying to make a point. We’re talking about a cop, someone who eats stress for breakfast and keeps on going. What pushed him this far?”
“It has to be a life-changing event,” Taylor said. “Whatever it is, he’s willing to go to jail because of it.”
Gemma sagged back in her chair as the full import of the situation blossomed. “A cop in jail? You know that’s a horror show and so will he. She looked from one team member to the next. “He’s not just willing to go to jail for it. He’s willing to die for it.”
“Shit.” The worry lines carved into Garcia’s face deepened. “If he doesn’t care if he makes it out, he’s not going to care about the hostages.”
“No, he’s not,” Gemma agreed. She turned to Rowland. “We need to find a way to work with him or it’s not just Willan we’re going to lose. You’re going to lose every staff member in there. We have to find a way to compromise with him.”
“Then Charles is a dead man because Patrick’s asking for the impossible,” Rowland said. “Even if I wanted to change our policy, I don’t have that kind of power. Not to mention we had a challenge from the ACLU and a lawsuit from stop-and-frisk.There’s no way for me to snap my fingers and make it happen. Is he out of his mind?”
“With rage or grief, yes, he is. Or else we wouldn’t be here like this. You’re looking at this as a politician, and someone who knows the process. He’s simply reacting through emotion. He’s a cop and would be thinking this through if there wasn’t some other overlying emotion clouding his thinking.” She glanced at the clock. “We’re wasting time and I have to call him back in twenty-six minutes. Sir, we need your help on this. I need you to get the council majority and minority leaders down here. We can offer a police escort, but we need them now.”
Rowland rose from his chair. “I’ll call them.” He hurried from the vault.
Gemma met McFarland’s gaze across the table with trepidation. Her plan was a logical way to play for time, but each additional minute would make Sanders and his A-Team even twitchier. And that could mean a situation even more deadly for the hostages.
They had to move fast.
CHAPTER 10
Gemma smiled at Carol Baker and Terell Robinson, the majority and minority council members, and checked the clock once again. “We’re right on time. Are you both ready?”
Baker glanced nervously at the phone and then at Robinson, who nodded his agreement. “Yes,” she said. “We know what to do.”
“Then here we go.” Gemma nodded at McFarland, who keyed in the phone number.
Mayor Rowland was off with his own people outside HNT headquarters when the council members had arrived only minutes before. After a quick prep talk from Garcia,
they had taken their chairs, donned headsets, and sat, tension radiating from their stiff shoulders.
“I’ll let you know when to talk, but this round it’s going to be quite short. Just enough for him to know you’re here.”
The call rang in their headsets.
“I commend you on your timeliness,” said Patrick.
“I told you I’d be honest with you, Patrick. When I say I’ll call, I will.” Gemma turned to the two council members, sitting ramrod straight beside her. “As promised, I have Majority Leader Baker and Minority Leader Robinson with me.” She pointed at Baker and then at Robinson.
“Hello.” Baker frowned at the slight shakiness in her words. “Hello, Patrick, I’m Carol Baker.” Her voice was steady now and carried a crisp formalness. “I’d very much like to hear how we can help you today.” She laid her hand on Robinson’s arm and gave him a go-ahead nod.
“Hello, Patrick, it’s Terell Robinson. Councilwoman Baker and I are here to assist you.”
“Good.” The suspect sounded satisfied. “You can start with—”
But Gemma quickly cut him off. “Patrick, you know that’s not how this works. I’ve done what I promised, and I brought you the council leaders. Now it’s time for you to meet me halfway. You need to release Rob Greenfield.”
“How do I know you won’t screw me over?” Satisfaction had twisted to pure suspicion in his tone.
“Because you have the rest of the hostages. The only way for me to save them is to deal fairly with you. Once I have confirmation that Rob Greenfield has been safely recovered, I’ll call you back and we’ll start the conversation. I want Greenfield to come out of the building through the main entrance and down the central staircase. Officers will meet him there and escort him off-site.”
“What’s to stop them from storming City Hall once they’re already there? You think you can pull a fast one and get officers in the building without my knowledge?”
“Not at all.” Gemma met Garcia’s cool stare and made a judgment call. “Do you have access to a television feed?”