Читаем Hostage полностью

'And you know this to be a fact?'

'Book it. We got that from his office, an older woman there who likes to talk, you know, how sad it is and all because the Chief's such a nice man.'

'Where are they now, the family I mean?'

'That, I don't know. I got people on that. They're due up tonight, though. That part I know for sure.'

Benza nodded.

'We've gotta think about this.'

Salvetti had already made up his mind. He leaned back, crossed his arms, his legs splayed and open.

'That shit just happened, that was too close. We've gotta move.'

'You mean the Sheriffs?'

'Yeah.'

'Yeah, that was close.'

They were silent for a time, each man lost in his own thoughts. Benza had dialed up Howell as soon as he saw the Sheriffs rolling into the neighborhood. Then, when the TV reported that shots were fired, he damn near tossed his soup, thinking this was it, SWAT was going in and they were cooked.

Howell said, 'There's more.'

'Okay.'

'They're looking into the building permits.'

'Why the fuck?'

'Something like this happens, some asshole barricades himself in a building, they want the floor plans. So now they're trying to find the people who built the house so they can get the plans.'

'Shit.'

Benza sighed and leaned back. Tuzee glanced at him, shaking his head. Benza owned the construction companies that built the house and installed the security systems. He didn't like where this was going. He stood.

'I'm going to walk, so if you can't hear me just say, okay?'

'Sure, Sonny.'

'First thing first. Our records. I'm looking at this house on the TV right now. There's a ring of cops around it like they're about to hit the beach at Normandy, but let me ask you something.'

'Okay.'

'Could we get our people in there?'

'In the house?'

'Yeah, in the house. Right now, right in front of the cops, the TV cameras, everything; get a couple guys inside the house?'

'No. I've got good people, Sonny, the best, but we can't get in right now. Not the way it stands now. We'd have to own the cops to do that. You give me a day, two days, I could probably do it.'

Benza, irritated, glowered at the televisions, two pictures, one showing the house with a bunch of SWAT cops out front, the other some blond dyke being interviewed, short hair slicked back, dressed like a man.

'Could we get close? Now. Not owning the cops, but now.'

Howell thought about it.

'Okay, look, I don't have a TV. I'm not seeing what you're seeing right now, okay? But I know Smith's house and I'm familiar with the neighborhood, so I'm going to say yeah. We could probably get close.'

Benza looked at Tuzee and Salvetti.

'How about we burn it down? Right now, tonight. Get some guys in there with some accelerant, everybody's gonna know it's arson so who gives a shit what, torch the place, burn it to the ground.'

He spread his hands, looking at them, hopeful.

Salvetti shrugged, unimpressed.

'No way to know the disks would be destroyed. Not for sure. I promise you this, if Smith has any of that stuff in his security room, it isn't gonna burn. Then we're fucked.'

Benza stared at the floor, ashamed of himself, thinking what a stupid idea, burn the place.

Tuzee leaned back now, crossing his arms, stared at the ceiling.

'Okay, look. Here it is the way I see it: If these kids were going to give up, they would've given up. Something's keeping them in that house, I don't know what, but they're sticking. The more cops pile up around that place, the more likely we are to have a breached entry.'

Salvetti sat forward, raising a hand like he was in class, interrupting.

'Wait. Call me crazy, but how about this? Why don't we just call'm? Talk to these dicks ourselves, cut a deal.'

Howell's voice hissed from the speaker.

'The lines are blocked. The cops did that.'

'Smith's regular lines, maybe, but not our lines. We pay extra for those lines.'

Tuzee was saying, 'What do you mean, cut a deal?'

'We lay it out for these assholes who they're dealing with, say they think they're in trouble with the cops, they haven't seen the kinda trouble we can bring down. We cut a deal, pay'm something like fifty K to give up, we'll provide the lawyers, all of that.'

'No fuckin' way. Uh-uh.'

'Why?'

'You want to tell three punk assholes our business? Jesus, Sally.'

Salvetti fell silent, embarrassed.

Benza caught Tuzee looking at him, resigned.

'What, Phil?'

Tuzee slumped in his chair, more tired now than ever.

'Talley's family.'

'We've got a lot to think about with that.'

'I know. I'm thinking about it. Once we go down that road, no turning back.'

'You know where that ends, don't you?'

'You're the guy just suggested we burn the fucking house down, six people inside, the whole world watching.'

'I know.'

'We can't just sit. We came damned close with what happened tonight, and now they're looking at the building permits and God knows what else. That's bad enough, but I'm worried about New York. I'm thinking, how long can we keep the lid on this?'

'We've got the lid on. I trust the guys we have on the scene.'

Перейти на страницу:

Похожие книги

Агент на месте
Агент на месте

Вернувшись на свою первую миссию в ЦРУ, придворный Джентри получает то, что кажется простым контрактом: группа эмигрантов в Париже нанимает его похитить любовницу сирийского диктатора Ахмеда Аззама, чтобы получить информацию, которая могла бы дестабилизировать режим Аззама. Суд передает Бьянку Медину повстанцам, но на этом его работа не заканчивается. Вскоре она обнаруживает, что родила сына, единственного наследника правления Аззама — и серьезную угрозу для могущественной жены сирийского президента. Теперь, чтобы заручиться сотрудничеством Бьянки, Суд должен вывезти ее сына из Сирии живым. Пока часы в жизни Бьянки тикают, он скрывается в зоне свободной торговли на Ближнем Востоке — и оказывается в нужном месте в нужное время, чтобы сделать попытку положить конец одной из самых жестоких диктатур на земле…

Марк Грени

Триллер
A Time for Patriots
A Time for Patriots

Welcome to Battlefield AmericaWhen murderous bands of militiamen begin roaming the western United States and attacking government agencies, it will take a dedicated group of the nation's finest and toughest civilian airmen to put an end to the homegrown insurgency. U.S. Air Force Lieutenant-General Patrick McLanahan vows to take to the skies to join the fight, but when his son, Bradley, also signs up, they find themselves caught in a deadly game against a shadowy opponent.When the stock markets crash and the U.S. economy falls into a crippling recession, everything changes for newly elected president Kenneth Phoenix. Politically exhausted from a bruising and divisive election, Phoenix must order a series of massive tax cuts and wipe out entire cabinet-level departments to reduce government spending. With reductions in education and transportation, an incapacitated National Guard, and the loss of public safety budgets, entire communities of armed citizens band together for survival and mutual protection. Against this dismal backdrop, a SWAT team is ambushed and radioactive materials are stolen by a group calling themselves the Knights of the True Republic. Is the battle against the government about to be taken to a new and deadlier level?In this time of crisis, a citizen organization rises to the task of protecting their fellow countrymen: the Civil Air Patrol (CAP), the U.S. Air Force auxiliary. The Nevada Wing — led by retired Air Force Lieutenant-General Patrick McLanahan, his son, Bradley, and other volunteers — uses their military skills in the sky and on the ground to hunt down violent terrorists. But how will Patrick respond when extremists launch a catastrophic dirty bomb attack in Reno, spreading radiological fallout for miles? And when Bradley is caught in a deadly double-cross that jeopardizes the CAP, Patrick will have to fight to find out where his friends' loyalties lie: Are they with him and the CAP or with the terrorists?With A Time for Patriots, the New York Times bestselling master of the modern thriller Dale Brown brings the battle home to explore a terrifying possibility — the collapse of the American Republic.

Дейл Браун

Триллер