'Sounds like a good weekend,' Lester said.
'As long as he doesn't kill the hostages,' Rose Marie said. She looked around at the line of TV trucks. 'You think we could get any more coverage than this?'
'I don't know. We might be missing the Russians or the Chinese, but that's about it,' Lucas said.
The negotiator was sweating. On the monitor, Scott was saying, 'I know what you're doing. You're stalling. I'm not going to put up with it. I've seen this same deal twenty times; I know you're supposed to stall. But I'll tell you what: I know there are planes that fly out of here every day for Los Angeles and San Francisco and Hawaii, and any of those will get to Cuba. Don't give me any of that shit about reprogramming the computers or getting gas, let's just get me down to the airport and on the plane before I have to kill this lady here.'
'I think we got a problem,' the negotiator said to Rose Marie.
Del, standing next to Lucas, said, 'More than one. Look at this.'
Jael Corbeau, trailed by three unhappy cops, was marching down the street toward them. A cop at the perimeter moved to stop her, but she pointed at Lucas, and Lucas said, 'Aw, jeez,' and waved her through.
'That's him?' she asked. She was dressed in black from head to foot: a black woolen coat, black slacks, black boots, and small black pearls at her ears. She was luminous.
'That's him. He's a guy from Burnt River named'
'Scott. Yeah, the guys told me. Martin Scott. So how're you gonna get him outa there?'
The negotiator said, 'Listen, he's gonna set a deadline, and I wouldn't be surprised if he did it. Killed the hostages. If he's suicidal'
'I don't think he's suicidal,' Lucas said. 'He's just nuts. He tried to cover his tracks on a couple of these things I don't think he wanted to be caught.'
'Yeah, well, maybe. On the other hand, he may pop that woman,' the negotiator said.
Rose Marie said, 'What do we do?'
'Figure out some way to start him toward the airport? Maybe snipe him?' Lucas suggested.
She looked at Lester. 'Where's that Iowa kid?' The Iowa kid was the department sniper.
'He's on his way.'
'So let's set him up. If he gets a clear shot' She looked at the negotiator. 'We need some more time. Ask him how he wants to get to the airport, what will keep him safe.'
'Aw, man,' Lucas said.
'What?'
'I don't know. Look at this bullshit.' He waved at the TV trucks; there were eight or nine of them. Four helicopters orbited overhead.
'Well, that's what it is,' Rose Marie said. She looked at the negotiator. 'Ask him how he wants to do it.'
As the negotiator was talking, the mayor arrived. He looked at the gas station, then at Lucas. 'How're you gonna get him outa there?'
An armored car.
'Aw, man,' Lucas said.
'Will you shut up?' Rose Marie said.
'Can I talk to that guy? For just a minute?'
The negotiator looked at Lucas and said, 'We have established an element of trust between us.'
'Oh, bullshit, he sounds like he's making the moves before we are,' Lucas said. 'You trust him, he doesn't trust you. Let me talk to him.'
Rose Marie looked at the mayor, who shrugged. 'I'm no expert,' he said.
'Go ahead,' said Rose Marie.
Lucas took the phone. 'This is Lucas Davenport. I'm the guy who chased you with the Porsche, and I want you to know you messed up a perfectly good paint job.'
'Tough shit. What do you want?'
'I want to come up to the gas station door and talk to you, away from this crowd. You're up there in a bulletproof booth, I can't hurt you, you can't hurt me, and you got the hostages. I just want to talk to you away from this crowd.'
'About what?'
'About TV.'
'What?'
'About all this TV. Give me two minutes. I won't come inside, I'll just stick my head in the door.'
After a moment: 'If this is a trick, I'll kill this lady.'
'This is no trick. I'm just tired of all the bullshit,' Lucas said.
He walked up to the station with his hands open, held at armpit level, stopped at the door, pushed it slowly open, then leaned inside.
'How are ya?'
'What, you're doing a Henry Fonda impression?'
'No. I just don't want anybody to get killed. Especially me.'
'What do you want?'
'To work a couple of things out with you. First of all, you don't want to go to Cuba. You know what they do to you in Cuba? They put you in prison. Forever. The last guy who hijacked a plane down there hasn't been seen since 1972. They might be Commies, but they don't like criminals. They'll stick you into a wet drippy dungeon with a bunch of rats, and you'll wind up looking like the Count of Monte Cristo. Stillwater prison is a goddamned garden spot next to anything you'll get in Cuba.'
'Maybe I'll take that chance,' Scott said. Being the hard man, Lucas thought. Lucas could see him clearly through the glass: a thatch of straw-colored hair, a heavy, ruddy face, plastic-framed glasses, and the Coke coveralls.
'Look, you see all those cameras out there? What if I walk one of those cameras up here and let you make a statement to the world about what you were doing for Alie'e. Then we cut out all this Cuba bullshit and killing innocent people in front of TV cameras so everybody'll know you're an assholeand you just come in and tell us what happened to you. You'll have lawyers and everything. You'll be treated well.'
'What channel?' Scott asked.
Lucas thought, Gotcha, and said, 'Any channel you want. I'd recommend Channel Twenty-nine, because they play right into Fox, which has the best news department, as I'm sure you know.'
'No, no. None of that Fox bullshit. Channel Three: that's CBS down here?' Scott asked.
'Yup.'
'Lets talk to somebody from Channel Three, see what they say,' Scott said.
Lucas walked back to the line.
'What's going on?' Rose Marie asked.
'We're talking,' Lucas said. 'I gotta go get some movie people.'
He felt like he was plodding through knee-deep mud. He spotted Ginger House from Channel Three, with her cameraman, pointed at her, and gestured. She tapped herself on the chest, and Lucas nodded and shouted, 'Bring your cameraman.'
She trotted across the police line with the cameraman in tow, and other reporters began screaming in the background. Lucas said, 'You will now owe me more than you can ever possibly repay.'
'What?' She was a nice-looking redhead with freckles on her narrow nose.
'We're gonna walk up there, and the guy's gonna give us a statement, and then maybe something good'll happen.'
'Is it dangerous?' she asked. She sounded reluctant.
'No, I don't think'
'You know what's dangerous, Ginger?' the cameraman asked. 'What's dangerous is, if you turn this down, I swear to God I'll go back to the truck, get out my gun, and shoot you in the forehead. Every goddamn person in the world is gonna see us do this. We do this, we're gonna be movie stars.'
'Or I'll be dead,' she said.
'Hell, you're a second-string reporter in Minneapolis. That's the same thing as being dead anyway,' the cameraman said.
