Terms Of Surrender

“Jolie.”

Dace’s voice, his expression when she flicked a glance at him, was soft. Her heart stumbled in her chest. She couldn’t recall the last time he’d looked at her that way. But it had been well before she’d left him and this city behind. It had been before she’d gone into the nursery one morning to find their son still and cold.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” She heard her own oft-repeated phrase on her lips, saw it have the predictable effect on the man beside her. His expression closed and although he didn’t move, a part of him shifted away.

And that, too, was familiar.

When they reentered the NOC unit, strategy was being discussed for the next phone call. And when Jolie established contact, she had herself firmly under control again.

“John. How are things going in there? I’m here to help you in any way I can.”

“Where’s the SUV I requested? How long am I going to have to wait for it?”

There was a new edge to the man’s tone. She glanced at Ryder, saw that he’d caught it. The psychologist would help monitor the man’s mood to better predict his actions. But before they could do that with any certainty, they needed to learn more about him.

“These things take time,” she said easily. “I’m still working on it, though.”

“Then we have nothing else to discuss.”

From the corner of her eye she saw Dace gesturing but didn’t need the reminder to keep the man talking. “Sure we do. Something made you walk into California National Bank this morning. Hard to believe it was just to get the chance to speak to me. You wanted something. Tell me about that.”

“That’s easy,” came the disembodied answer. “This is where they keep the money.”

She heard voices coming from Johnson’s headset, and the man moved away from the table so the gunman wouldn’t overhear. “So that’s what this is about? The money? Why’d you choose this bank?”

“It was here. I was here. Seemed like fate. Do you believe in fate, Jolie?”

“I believe in personal responsibility. In doing the right thing. It’s not too late for you to do the right thing, John. Things haven’t gone so wrong yet that you can’t walk away from this. I want to help you with that.” She didn’t mention the dead security guard. If they were to convince the gunman to surrender, they had to make him believe he had a chance if he did things their way. “Why don’t you come out before things get out of hand?”

There was a soft laugh on the other side of the line. “You’re good. I can see why Recker let you take over. But unfortunately for you, you’re not dealing with an idiot. Thanks for the offer, but I like my chances better if we follow my plan.”

She glanced at Dace, who was reading a note Johnson had written and given to him. “What plan is that?”

“You get the perimeter pulled back. Bring the car up to the back doors. I leave quietly with the cash and, of course, a couple hostages to ensure my safety. We all live happily ever after.”

As fairy tales went, his was particularly far-fetched. There was no way his demands would be met. Before he would be allowed to leave the vicinity, an assault-and-rescue operation would be staged. Such an operation drastically increased the odds of injury to those inside. But she was charged with the task of making sure it never came to that.

“We’re working on that for you, John. We want a happy ending as much as you do. But these things take time. You know what bureaucracy is like, right? And while we’re waiting, you’ve got things to take care of, too. The people inside are going to need to use the restroom soon. Maybe food. Water. We can assist you with that.”

“I don’t give a damn what they need.” The earlier control the gunman had displayed was definitely thinning. “They aren’t my concern.”

“Couple dozen people who can’t use the bathroom can be cause for anyone’s concern,” she returned, injecting a note of amusement into her voice that she was far from feeling. “Especially if they’re all being kept in a small area. Where are they, in the vault? Pretty soon the money’s not going to smell so good.”

There was silence on the other end, leaving Jolie with no idea what the other man was thinking. “If there’s anyone in there who’s injured, John, now’s the time to send them out. Wounded people are just another headache for you.”

Dace touched her arm, handed her the note to read.

“On the contrary, Jolie. Wounded people will soon become your headache. Because if my demands aren’t met by the next time we talk, I’m going to start shooting people in here.”

That got her attention. “You don’t want to do that, John.” Her tone was firm. “I can help you out of this thing. I swear it. But if you harm anyone else in there, your options narrow drastically. You’re smart enough to realize that. I know you are.”

A click was her only answer.

Slowly, she lowered the phone while Dace crumpled the note in his hand. “So there’s a visual of him in the lobby?” That much, at least, she’d been able to read before the HT had reclaimed her focus.

He nodded. “He’s still wearing the mask, which is good news.”

Maintaining his disguise meant he still thought there was a way out of this, so he was taking pains not to be identified. It was when his hopes of walking away alive were dashed that they had reason to worry.

But there was something in the way Dace was regarding her that had trepidation stirring in her belly. “What else?” Whatever it was, there was no doubt he’d give it to her straight. Dace had always been honest to a fault.

I don’t know if I love you. How could I? It’s too soon, for either of us. But I know I’ll love this baby, if you’ll go through with the pregnancy. I’ll do right by it. By both of you. Give me a chance, Jolie. Give us a chance.

His earnest honesty had disarmed defenses that she’d once thought stronger. Had undermined common sense and shredded reason. In retrospect she still couldn’t understand how he’d circumvented a lifetime of caution and compelled her to reach for something she’d never before dared hope for.

“What else?” she repeated, in an effort to shake those memories from her head.

“He had the boy on his shoulders. One hand around both the child’s wrists, to pull him down to drape over his head.”

A chill broke out over Jolie’s arms. She rubbed them absently, muttering, “Smart bastard.” And totally cold, totally unfeeling, to use a child like that. In situations like this, if snipers were used to neutralize a gunman, they went for a head shot to produce instant incapacitation. There was no doubt the HT knew that. He’d positioned the child to protect his brain stem.

“Sounding more and more like someone well versed in law enforcement tactics,” Dace noted grimly.

“Or someone who’s done his homework,” Dr. Ryder put in. “He’s covered every base.”

Skepticism was written on Sharper’s square face. “Hard to believe an LEO would think he could get away with bank robbery.”

“But he has been getting away with it,” Lewis said grimly. “Twelve banks have been hit in a tristate area in the past three months. All have been smaller branches like this one. He’s in and out in under ten minutes. Rough estimates have the take so far at over thirty million.”

Jolie whistled under her breath. Smaller banks would have less cash on hand than their larger counterparts, but they’d also be easier to case. Fewer employees. Lower risk for complications.

Then the full ramification of Lewis’s words struck her. Bank robbery was a federal offense, and if this was one of a series, there was an ongoing investigation. In an undertone, she said to Dace, “How long do you guess we have before the feds step in?”

“I’m sort of surprised they haven’t shown up yet.”

His voice, his expression, was sardonic. He’d never been the Bureau’s biggest fan.

“Have there been any victims in the prior robberies?”

“Three.” Lewis worked a knot out of his shoulder. “So this guy isn’t afraid to leave bodies behind.”

Which was very bad news for them. And even worse for the hostages inside.

The CCL ducked out of the NOC unit to head over to the command center. While he was gone the team added details on the situation board. Using the floor plans of the bank, Johnson showed Sharper the positions of the SWAT personnel. All the known details were drawn in, down to the location of the throw phone. They used sticky notes to add unknowns, like the position of the hostages.

Jolie handed over her list and Sharper started a similar grid on the board.