“That’s no surprise. At least among insiders, it’s no secret that I’m not his first choice to head up these negotiations. I’m smart enough to realize that his show of support for me in the press conference this morning was just talk. Law enforcement always wants to present a united front.”
“Forget what the public has been told. I’m talking about what’s going on within the department. Internally, as far as all the players in the negotiation are concerned, Mayor Mendoza has led everyone to believe that Vincent Paulo is the last person on earth that he’d like to see in charge of this negotiation. But according to my sources, you were put in charge because the mayor called Chief Renfro and told her to do it.”
“Your sources?”
Jack did not want to implicate Detective Barber at this point. “You have to remember who my old man is.”
“Your daddy has an ear to the wall on this?”
“Only because I asked him to. And the walls can be pretty thin for a former governor who was once a City of Miami cop.”
Paulo started working a pencil through his fingers like a miniature baton, and it was as if Jack could see the wheels turning inside his head. Finally, Paulo said, “Let me see if I follow your logic. Someone has wanted Falcon dead all along. The mayor tells the chief to put me in charge of the negotiations. As soon as the opportunity arises, the chief tells me to step aside and let the snipers take Falcon out. I’m in charge, but I’m not in charge.”
Jack was silent. It sounded harsh coming from Paulo’s own lips.
Paulo continued, “Falcon is my Dusty Boggs. I’ve been set up to fail.”
“It’s just a theory,” said Jack.
“It’s an execution they want, not a negotiation,” said Paulo. “If it takes one bullet to drop Falcon, mission accomplished. If something goes wrong and a hostage goes down in the crossfire, it’s my fault. The blind guy takes the fall.”
“I’m not saying it’s true,” said Jack. “It’s just something to consider.”
“I have considered it,” said Paulo, his voice turning very serious. “You and I are on the same page.”
It was more honesty than Jack had expected, and he wasn’t going to squander the opportunity. “Why do you think they want Falcon dead?”
“Mendoza can be a vindictive man, I’m told. Maybe the message is simply ‘Don’t mess with the mayor’s daughter.’”
“Or maybe it’s something else,” said Jack.
“You got a theory on that, too?”
“I’m working on it,” said Jack.
“Work faster,” said Paulo. “We’re running out of time.”
“Theo’s running out of time,” said Jack.
“Maybe we can buy a little more.” A hint of a smile creased Paulo’s lips. “They’ve got the guns, but you and I are still the only two people who Falcon will talk to. All I need to know is that you’re willing to work with me on this.”
“That’s exactly what I was hoping to hear,” said Jack.
chapter 47
J ack placed the call from his own cell phone. Sergeant Paulo wanted it that way. Paulo refused to be anyone’s puppet, and Jack was more than willing to help cut the strings. If that meant calling from the mobile command center on a wireless phone that wasn’t encrypted, Jack was on board, even if he did not yet fully understand Paulo’s strategy. There was no time to debate every decision, and Jack figured that his show of trust in the sergeant’s instincts would only serve to solidify their alliance.
The phone rang several times, but Jack was certain that Falcon would answer soon enough. Falcon was using Theo’s cell phone, and Jack’s number was programmed into it. The display would identify Jack as the caller.
“Changing phones on me, Swyteck?” said Falcon.
“Yeah. I figured it was time to shake things up a little.”
“I thought that was my job.”
“We’ve got the same job. Let’s end this thing and keep everyone safe.”
“Did you get my money from the Bahamas yet?”
Jack had been hoping to avoid that matter, and the abrupt change of subject caught him somewhat off guard. “Soon,” he said, but the bluff rang hollow even in his own ears.
“You’re stalling,” said Falcon.
“No, I’m working on it.”
“You’re lying.”
“It’s more complicated than you think.”
“You stole it, didn’t you?”
“No. I didn’t steal it.”
“You stole my money, and now you think you can just keep on talking in circles.”
“That’s not true at all.”
“You stole my money, and I want it back now!”
“I just need a little more time.”
“Time? How much time do you think I’ve got here? Time is up, Swyteck. Tell me where my money is, or I swear, I’m going to-”
“It’s gone,” said Jack. He cut off Falcon before he could say the words “shoot a hostage,” which would have unleashed an immediate breach by SWAT.
“What did you just say?” said Falcon.
Jack collected himself. Paulo offered a nod of encouragement, as if to say that the truth was out, there was no taking it back, and perhaps it was even better this way. Jack said, “We went to your safe deposit box, just like you told me to. A manager named Riley met us there. When we opened the box, the money was gone.”
“All of it?”
“Yes. Even Riley was shocked. The only thing inside was a note. It was handwritten in Spanish.”
“Really?” said Falcon. The shrill edge was gone from his voice. He sounded genuinely intrigued. “What did it say?”
“It read: ‘Donde estan los Desaparecidos?’ Where are the Disappeared?”
The words were met by stone-cold silence. Jack waited for a reply, and, after several moments of dead air, he wondered if Falcon was still on the line. “Falcon?” he said.
Falcon replied in a soft, calm voice, a tone that Jack had not heard in any of their previous conversations. It was a combination of pleasure and relief, punctuated with a hint of sheer joy. “She came,” he said. “I can’t believe it. She finally came.”
“Who came?” said Jack.
There was no reply.
“Falcon?” said Jack. “Who came? Who are you talking about?”
The silence on the other end of the line was suddenly more profound, and Jack realized that no response was coming. The call was over. Falcon was gone. Jack closed his flip phone and laid it on the table in front of him. He stared at it for a moment, trying to comprehend the exchange that had just ended.
Paulo said, “Not exactly according to plan, was it?”
“No,” said Jack, looking off to the middle distance. “At least not our plan.”
chapter 48
F alcon shoved the cell phone in his pocket and resumed pacing. In his years of homelessness, he often went for long walks along the river, up Miami Avenue, and down Biscayne Boulevard. Confinement to a tiny, closed-in
