“Guess it could’ve been worse if there wasn’t an airbag.”
“Aye.”
“So what about you?” I asked. “Did the doctor check you over?”
“Aye, I’m fine, bumps and bruises, nothing more. I’m mostly worried about you and Ben.”
“I’m good,” I told her. “Ben’s hand is really messed up though. Last time I saw him there was a paramedic looking at it for him. I suspect he’ll need a trip to the hospital before it’s all over. Have you called Allison?”
“Aye. She was frantic at first, but you know how she is. She’s a nurse. She’s used to this kind of thing, especially out of Ben.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So what IS going on there?” my wife asked, her voice turning serious as she left the chitchat behind. “I’ve been watching the television, but they aren’t saying much.”
“Well, they got me here in time to appease Porter,” I replied. “For the moment anyway. Right now, I’m sitting in the back of a van, like I said, and they keep interviewing me.”
“What for?”
“Looking for angles to use while negotiating with him.”
“Aye, do they actually believe they can negotiate with that monster, then?”
“Yeah, they do.”
“What about you?” she asked after a pause. “Do you think they can?”
“No,” I almost whispered. “No, I don’t.”
We both fell silent, neither of us willing to press forward with the conversation but neither willing to say goodbye either. The digitally reproduced sounds of each other’s breathing issuing from the phones became a tenuous connection between us-distant and artificial, but better than nothing.
My fearful thoughts combined with the hollowness in the pit of my stomach, and I became the first to break the lull. “You know he’s going to kill her no matter what, don’t you?”
“Row… Don’t say that,” Felicity appealed softly.
“He will,” I continued. “I can feel it.”
“Don’t you go and do something stupid, now,” she said. “Okay?”
I didn’t reply.
Her voice came at me again, “Rowan? Answer me.”
“Yeah,” I finally said. “Nothing stupid.”
“Caorthann… ” Her voice was ringed by sadness and filled with resignation as she whispered the Gaelic pet name.
“Really, sweetheart,” I assured her. “Back of van, FBI, cops everywhere. I don’t think there’s anything I CAN do other than sit here.”
“Aye, but I know you.”
“They have a chapel there?” I asked, trying to divert her attention.
“I’m sure they do, why?”
“Maybe you should go light a candle for Star,” I offered.
Her reply told me that my gambit didn’t work as planned. “Aye, I think you mean I should go light a candle for you.”
There was no suitable reply that wouldn’t either confirm her fears or force me to lie to her. Remaining silent would just do the same. I said the only thing I could, “Maybe for both of us then.”
“Aye,” she whispered.
I knew that unchecked, we would continue to sit there clinging to the cellular thread that now linked us together in the physical world. As much as I wanted to give in to that comfort, I made the decision that I knew she wouldn’t.
“I’ve got to go, honey,” I said. “They’re going to want to start asking me some more questions in just a minute.”
“I love you, Rowan.”
I replied softly, “Yeah. I love you too.”
I pulled the cell phone away from my ear then allowed my hand to slide down across my chest and fall into my lap. Without looking, I depressed the end button and disconnected the line. Closing my eyes, I left my head tilted back and began wondering about the wisdom of having made the call.
I wanted to be certain that she was okay, and I wanted to get an update on Constance but that information had come at a price. I wasn’t foolish enough to think that Felicity believed for a minute that I would be standing idly by at this scene. Not with Star’s life resting in the hands of Eldon Porter. I was convinced she hadn’t even believed that when she made the decision to stay behind with Agent Mandalay. But she had come to terms with it.
My phone call may have served to do nothing more than open a wound. It very simply could have been an inadvertent reminder of the dangerous uncertainty that I faced-and my melancholy, a possible harbinger that Ben’s promise to her could well be broken. Dwelling on the fact officially made me feel worse than I had before I dialed the number.
I breathed in a deep lungful of the chilly air then tilted my head back forward and glanced over at the door on the rear of the van. It had been several minutes since Agent Kavanaugh had left to hand over the information to the rest of the HNT. Considering that I hadn’t given over anything of much relevance, at least in my eyes, I was beginning to worry. Something was taking far too long.
With the momentary diversion from my migraine gone by the wayside, the pain had returned full force, hammering away even harder than before. As I sat there, I felt a creepy wave of gooseflesh climb up my back until it reached the base of my neck. I shivered with a chill as the sensation traveled back down my spine then spread out through my body. I fell into an eerie state of semi-catatonic nothingness that made me feel sick to my stomach.
I jumped with a start and caught an outbound breath in my throat as my cell phone began pealing out the William Tell Overture in dull electronic tones. When my muscles tensed, the various bruises I had acquired reported in sharply then settled back into dull aches with unwavering loyalty to the task. I forced my body to relax and rolled my head as I allowed myself to continue exhaling.
“Oh yeah, you’re real stable, aren’t you?” I chastised myself aloud.
I turned the face of the phone up and inspected the screen, fully expecting to see the words “Felicity Cell” in a blocky, liquid crystal font. Instead, I was greeted with the words “New Number” and a string of unfamiliar digits.
I stared at the display for a moment as the refrain began bleeping out again and then punched the center button and brought the device upward.
“Rowan Gant,” I said.
“It is about time you turned on your phone, Gant.” Eldon Porter’s voice issued from the speaker. “I have been trying to reach you for almost an hour now.”
“So sue me, asshole,” I replied.
“I don’t think so,” he replied. “I would rather just kill you.”
“Same here,” I shot back. “So shouldn’t you be talking to the hostage negotiator?”
“Agent McCoy bores me,” he remarked. “All give and take, I did for you, now you do for me. It is really very obvious that he does not see the point behind all of this.”
Each sentence chilled me even more than the frigid weather outside. His voice had returned to the flat, rehearsed tenor I had discussed with Agent Kavanaugh earlier. His sentences were overtly devoid of contractions and spoken with an air of self-anointed superiority. There was a purposeful calm about him-a frightening preparedness that struck me like a cold blade directly into my heart.
“And that point is?” I asked.
“I think you are well aware of that, Gant,” he replied.
“Yeah, just checking,” I quipped.
I knew from his tone there were literally no words from me that would keep him at bay. Not now. Not anymore. We were moving forward to the next phase.
I was wondering why the HNT hadn’t severed the connection by now. It took a few seconds for me to remember that this was the first time he had ever contacted me on my own cell, so it was a line they wouldn’t be
