“You’re so full of crap.”
“I know about El Oso.”
Jack wished that he could have seen Falcon’s reaction, but it was almost unnecessary. The silence on the line was profound.
Finally, Falcon said, “Exactly how much do you know?”
“Enough.”
“How much is enough?”
“Enough to keep my friend Theo alive. Unless you’d like me to share what I know with the media.”
“What makes you think I care?”
“The fact that you changed your name, lied about being from Cuba, went and lived in a burned-out car. The fact that you climbed up on a bridge and got arrested for trying to talk to the mayor’s daughter, and then holed yourself up in a motel room with hostages, and yet for some reason, you’ve never mentioned your dark side to anyone. Or should I say darkest side.”
Falcon’s voice took on an edge, rising with agitation. “I’ll mention it when I’m good and ready.”
“Or I’ll steal your thunder and do it for you.”
“You keep your mouth shut!”
“No problem. Just keep Theo and the other hostages alive.”
He didn’t respond right away, but Jack could hear him breathing out his anger. “Don’t push me, Swyteck. I don’t like it.”
“Nobody’s pushing you. All I’m saying is that if you harm any of the hostages, you lose your stage, your soapbox, your platform-whatever the hell it is you’re angling for.”
“How do you know I want a stage?”
“Because none of your other demands makes sense. And I don’t think you’re anywhere near as crazy as you lead people to believe.”
Falcon’s tone changed again, less argumentative, more respectful of Jack’s insight. “I like you, Swyteck. Deep down, I really like you.”
“I’m truly honored.”
“That’s why I want you and Paulo to come get the girl.”
“Fine. But then what?”
“Then…” Falcon’s voice trailed off, and for a moment Jack thought he’d lost him.
“Falcon? Then what?”
“Then, it’s curtain time,” Falcon said, and the call ended.
chapter 56
T he drive back to the mobile command center was practically unbearable for Alicia. At least a half-dozen times, she had to fight off the impulse to jump onto I-95 and just keep going. She had no particular destination in mind. It was simply about getting away. Running, however, was rarely the answer. With the lives of at least four hostages still hanging in the balance, it wasn’t even a remote option.
She switched on the car radio and caught the tail end of a news update at the top of the hour, delivered in rapid-fire cadence.
“The hostage standoff between police and the homeless man accused of stalking Mayor Mendoza’s daughter now enters its eighteenth hour,” the announcer reported, “with no outward signs of progress. At least four hostages remain holed up in a motel room with the gunman, one of whom is now believed to be Walter Finkelstein, better known as Walt the Weather Wizard, the colorful meteorologist with Action News in Miami. More news at the bottom of the hour.”
Alicia switched off the radio. To her knowledge, the identity of the hostages had yet to be released. The leaks were starting. With more than a little concern, she wondered what other secrets might find their way into the media.
She returned to the staging area just before dark and found a parking space a few car-lengths down from the mobile command center. The rain continued to fall, though no longer in the blinding sheets that had made her drive to Coconut Grove so treacherous. Still, completely overcast skies and plenty of threatening dark clouds made for a premature dusk. Darkness came early in December, and on a miserable day like today it would come even sooner than usual, which gave her an uneasy feeling. She was no expert in hostage negotiations, but Vince was. He was living and walking proof that nightfall often triggered action in a hostage situation-for better or for worse.
Alicia dodged raindrops as she darted toward the mobile unit and pushed the door open, entering with more of a flurry than she’d intended. “It’s me,” she said upon seeing the startled expression on Vince’s face.
“You’re back,” he said. “I was beginning to think you’d left us for good.”
“No, there was just something…something that came up. Can I speak to you alone for a minute, Vince?” Alicia glanced at the second negotiator from MDPD, who was gracious enough to volunteer that he needed another jolt of espresso. He pulled on a windbreaker that was already rain-soaked, stepped out into the drizzle, and left Alicia and Vince alone in the command center.
“What’s up?” said Vince.
Alicia pulled up a chair that faced him and sat close enough for him to feel her presence. She felt an urge to reach out and take his hands in hers, but she resisted, in this setting. “Vince, what do you know about Argentina’s Dirty War?”
The question didn’t seem to surprise him the way she had thought it would. “Up until this afternoon, I’d say I knew virtually nothing.”
“That probably puts you in the same boat as most Americans, except for the fact that your answer implies that you now know something about it.”
“I have learned a few things.”
“Did something happen while I was gone?”
“Someone came forward with some information. A source.”
“Who?”
“An old woman who cleaned out the cash from Falcon’s safe deposit box in the Bahamas.”
“She stole it?”
“No. It appears that he authorized access. He gave it to her.”
“Why?”
“She claims she knew Falcon. Told us all about him.”
Alicia knew exactly whom he was talking about, and she was glad that Vince couldn’t see her reaction. “What did she tell you?”
“Lots of things. Turns out that he spent most of the Dirty War torturing prisoners at one of over three hundred secret detention centers that the military dictatorship set up around the country to deal with dissidents. He was known as El Oso.”
“How did she know him?”
“Her daughter was detained there.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” said Vince.
She wasn’t quite sure how to read his tone, but he didn’t wait for her response.
“Interesting thing is that the detention center was called La Cacha. The guards gave it that name. It was short for La Cachavacha. Apparently there was a popular cartoon in Argentina called La bruja de la cachavacha, about a witch who could make people disappear.”
“I know the cartoon,” she said.
“El Oso and his buddies must have been a real bunch of comedians. I guess that’s what Falcon was hinting at when he kept talking about the witch and the Disappeared.”
“What do you expect? You’ve seen him, talked to him. He’s crazy.”
“No, he’s not crazy. He’s more of a sociopath.”
