“You weren’t prepared, were you? None of you were.” Gabriel looked at Stillman, whose face was gleaming with sweat in that oven of a trailer. “That man walked right through your perimeter, carrying in a knapsack with god-knows-what weapons. You weren’t ready for him because you never expected a gunman to walk into the building.”

“We know it’s always a possibility,” said Stillman. “That’s the reason we set up perimeters.”

“Then how did this man get through?”

“Because he knew exactly how to do it. His clothing, his gear. This was well thought out, Agent Dean. That man was ready.”

“And Boston PD wasn’t. That’s why they used a code. To take you by surprise.”

Hayder stared in frustration out the open doorway of the command trailer. Though they’d brought in two oscillating fans, and the street had now fallen into the shadow of late afternoon, it was still unbearably hot in the vehicle. Outside, on Albany Street, cops stood red-faced and sweating, and reporters were retreating back into their air-conditioned news vans. Everyone was waiting for something to happen. The calm before the next storm.

“It does start to make sense,” said Stillman. The negotiator had been listening to Gabriel’s points with a deepening frown. “Consider the sequence of events. Jane Doe refuses to negotiate with me. She won’t even talk to me. That’s because she’s not ready-she needs her back covered, first. She needs to strengthen her position. She calls the radio station and they broadcast the activation code. Five hours later, that man with the knapsack arrives. He shows up because he was summoned.”

“And he blithely walks into a suicide mission?” said Hayder. “Does anyone have friends who are that loyal?”

“A marine will lay down his life for his company,” said Gabriel.

“Band of brothers? Yeah, sure.”

“I take it you’ve never served.”

Hayder flushed an even deeper red in the heat. “Are you saying this is some sort of military operation? Then what’s the next step? If this is so logical, tell us what’s next on their agenda.”

“Negotiations,” said Gabriel. “The takers have now cemented their position. I think you’re going to be hearing from them soon.”

A new voice cut in, “Reasonable prediction, Agent Dean. You’re probably right.”

They all turned to look at the stocky man who had just stepped into the trailer. As usual, Agent John Barsanti wore a silk tie and a button-down shirt; as usual, his clothes did not fit well. He responded to Gabriel’s look of surprised recognition with a sober nod of greeting. “I’m sorry about Jane,” he said. “They told me you were involved in this mess.”

“No one told me you were, John.”

“We’re just monitoring developments. Ready to assist if we need to.”

“Why send someone all the way from Washington? Why not use the Boston field office?”

“Because this will likely go into negotiations. It made sense to send someone with experience.”

The two men regarded each other for a moment in silence. Experience, thought Gabriel, couldn’t be the only reason John Barsanti had turned up. The FBI would not normally send a man straight from the deputy director’s office to supervise a local hostage negotiation.

“Then who’s in charge of the deal making?” Gabriel asked. “The FBI? Or Boston PD?”

“Captain Hayder!” called Emerton. “We’ve got a call coming in from the hospital! It’s on one of their lines!”

“They’re ready to negotiate,” said Gabriel. Just as he’d predicted.

Stillman and Barsanti looked at each other. “You take it, Lieutenant,” said Barsanti. Stillman nodded, and crossed to the phone.

“I’ve got you on speaker,” said Emerton.

Stillman took a deep breath, then pressed the connect button. “Hello,” he said calmly. “This is Leroy Stillman.”

A man answered, just as calm. A reedy voice, with a hint of a southern drawl. “You’re a policeman?”

“Yes. I’m Lieutenant Stillman, Boston PD. Who am I speaking to?”

“You already know my name.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Why don’t you ask the FBI guy. There is an FBI guy, isn’t there? Standing in that trailer with you?”

Stillman glanced over at Barsanti with a look of how the hell does he know? “I’m sorry, sir,” said Stillman. “I really don’t know your name, and I’d like to know who I’m speaking to.”

“Joe.”

“Right. Joe.” Stillman released a breath. So far, so good. At least they had a name.

“How many people are in that trailer with you, Leroy?”

“Let’s talk about you, Joe-”

“The FBI is there, though. Am I right?”

Stillman said nothing.

Joe laughed. “I knew they’d show up. FBI, CIA, Defense Intelligence, Pentagon. Yeah, they all know who I am.”

Gabriel could read the expression on Stillman’s face. We’re dealing with a man who clearly has delusions of persecution.

“Joe,” said Stillman, “there’s no reason to draw this out any longer. Why don’t we talk about ending it quietly?”

“We want a TV camera in here. A live feed to the media. We have a statement to make, and a videotape to show you.”

“Slow down. Let’s get to know each other first.”

“I don’t want to know you. Send in a TV camera.”

“That’s going to present a problem. I need to clear this through a higher level.”

“They’re standing right there, aren’t they? Why don’t you turn around and ask them, Leroy? Ask that higher level to get the ball rolling.”

Stillman paused. Joe understood exactly what was going on. He finally said, “We can’t authorize a live media feed.”

“No matter what I offer you in exchange?”

“What would that be?”

“Two hostages. We send them out as a sign of good faith. You send in a cameraman and a reporter, and we all go on live TV. Once our message gets out, then we send out two more hostages. That’s four people we’re giving you, Leroy. Four lives for ten minutes of TV airtime. I promise you a show that’ll knock your socks off.”

“What’s the point of this, Joe?”

“The point is, no one will listen to us. No one believes us. We’re tired of running, and we want our lives back. This is the only way left. The only way people in this country will know we’re telling the truth.”

Hayder swept a finger across his throat, a signal to interrupt the conversation.

“Hold on, Joe,” said Stillman, cupping his hand over the receiver. He looked at Hayder.

“Do you think he’ll even know whether it’s a live TV feed?” asked Hayder. “If we could make him believe it’s actually going on the air-”

“This man is not stupid,” cut in Gabriel. “Don’t even think of playing games with him. You cross him, you’ll make him angry.”

“Agent Dean, maybe you could step outside?”

“They want media attention, that’s all! Let them have their say. Let them rant to the public, if that’s what it takes to end this!”

Joe’s voice said, over the speaker: “Do you want to deal or not, Leroy? Because we can do it the hard way, too. Instead of live hostages, we can send out dead ones. You have ten seconds to make up your mind.”

Stillman said, “I’m listening, Joe. The problem is, a live feed isn’t something I can just pull off. I need the cooperation of a TV station. How about we make it a taped statement? We deliver a camcorder to you. You say whatever you want, take as long as you need to-”

“And then you bury the tape, right? It’ll never see the light of day.”

“That’s my offer, Joe.”

“We both know you can do better. So does everyone else standing in that command trailer with you.”

“Live TV is out of the question.”

“Then we have nothing more to say to you. Good-bye.”

“Wait-”

“Yes?”

“You’re serious? About releasing hostages?”

“If you keep up your end of the bargain. We want a cameraman and a reporter to witness what happens here. A real reporter, not some cop with a fake press pass.”