“I don’t care. That’s my wife in there. I have the right.”

“I’m sorry, Ben. No. We have interrogation specialists working on Rybicki. Maybe they’ll be successful.”

Ben clenched his hands into fists. “Can you at least take me in there? So I can hear what’s going on?”

“That much I can do. Follow me, please.”

Seamus winced as he took the first step. He inhaled deeply, then started over again, clutching his right side. “Sorry. It’s been a hell of a day. And I still haven’t had much time with the medics.”

Ben followed as Seamus led him through the cordon and into a makeshift headquarters at the base of the tall marble steps leading to the memorial. The interrogation area was just a concrete barricade and an impressive array of communications equipment. One agent was talking into a telephone. Two were huddled around what appeared to be a blueprint of the memorial and the surrounding areas. A video monitor showed the scene inside-Christina chained to the base of the statue of Lincoln.

“Christina,” he said breathlessly.

“I’m sorry,” Seamus said. “If I could do-”

“Can I talk to her?”

An African American woman dressed in a jacket like Seamus’s answered. “I’m sorry. Not at this time. We don’t have a communications device down there.”

Seamus explained. “This is Special Agent Beldon of the FBI. She’s the tactical commander for this operation.”

Ben shook her hand. “Good to meet you.”

“We have someone working on Rybicki. We’re optimistic.”

Ben pursed his lips. “I’ve heard the man rant. I’m not.”

“Well, give it a chance.”

Ben glanced at a nearby blackboard. “I see you’re still employing the same four steps for hostile negotiation. Trust, contain, reconcile, resolve.”

“We’re treating this like a hostage negotiation-even though technically the hostage is not currently within his control. He knows the password that can save her and everyone else in the area, so it amounts to the same thing. You’ve been involved with prior scenarios?”

“Once or twice. What does Rybicki want? His plan is finished.”

“He hasn’t made any demands. I think he just wants the bomb to explode. It’s possible he might change his mind, but…”

She didn’t have to finish the sentence. It was evident that she very much doubted he would. And Ben very much doubted it, too.

Ben and Seamus followed as Agent Beldon led him to the area where they were interrogating Rybicki. His eyes narrowed when he spotted Ben.

“Kincaid. So nice to see you again.”

Ben didn’t answer. This wasn’t his show. The interrogator, a tall, thin man with a badge that said Smithson, was talking from prepared notes. “Secretary Rybicki, I want to help you. I will consider any reasonable requests. And I won’t lie to you.”

Ben realized Smithson was trying to work his way through those key negotiation steps. But Rybicki wouldn’t even let him get to first base: trust.

“There’s only one person I want to hear from. Kincaid.”

Smithson kept trying. “Sir, I know what you’ve been going through.”

“No, you don’t. How dare you say that when you don’t. You couldn’t possibly!” His voice sounded crazed, bizarre. “You don’t know how desperate it is, how close we all are to the end. You can’t know how frustrating it is to have the answer but no one will listen!”

“Mr. Rybicki,” Smithson continued, “I want to help. I want to give you any reasonable thing you want or need to make sure no one else gets hurt by that bomb.”

“Tell Kincaid his wife is going to die!”

“Sir, I know you’re scared, confused. You don’t know what’s going to happen. You need someone you can trust. You can trust me. Make me your hostage. Let Ms. McCall go.”

“No deal.”

“Pointless,” Ben muttered to Seamus under his breath. “This is not going to end up well.”

Beldon’s fists balled up with frustration. “Can someone please explain to me what this guy’s problem is?”

“I can,” Ben said.

“Then would you please tell me what I’m supposed to do?”

“That’s the problem,” Ben said, eyes widening. “There’s nothing we can do. There’s nothing we can give him he wants. And pardon me for saying so, but your approach is not going to work.”

“Mr. Kincaid, I understand your frustration. But we have to play this by the book.”

“I don’t care about your book. I want Christina out of there.”

“We can’t-”

“And I want Mr. McKay here to take over the interrogation.”

“Why? So he can torture the secretary of defense?”

“I won’t use torture,” Seamus said. “Not that it wouldn’t be fun. But it wouldn’t work with this zealot.”

Ben didn’t care if he did. He didn’t care about anything except getting Christina out of there.

“Just tell us as much as you can,” Smithson said to Rybicki. He had already blown step two: contain. Presumably he was trying for some hope of reconciliation, step three.

“I won’t. Why should I?”

“Sir, innocent lives-”

“You have ten minutes left!” Rybicki screeched. “Then everyone will see that I was right!”

“Mr. Rybicki!”

Smithson continued to argue with the man, but Ben knew it would do no good. He wasn’t going to change Rybicki’s mind. The secretary of defense was way past reason.

“I can’t stand to watch this. I’m going for some air,” Ben told Seamus. He gave him his cell phone number. “Call me if anything changes.”

“I will.”

Ben walked a moment, made sure no one was looking. Then he quietly took one of the FBI flak jackets and slid it on.

He walked evenly, not too fast, not too slow, toward the monument. Seamus and the others were still watching the interrogation.

Ben reached the officers restricting access to the monument. “Change of assignment,” Ben said, mustering as much authority as he could manage. “Beldon says she wants to see you immediately.”

“Now? Who’ll maintain the cordon?”

“I will. Follow your orders.” The two men shrugged and started toward the interrogation area.

Ben skittered up the steps to the monument. The farther he got before he was spotted the better.

“Kincaid!” This was Seamus, about twenty feet below him, just before he made it to the top of the steps. “Freeze! Do not compromise this operation. We will use force if necessary to stop you.”

“Then you’ll have to shoot me in the back,” Ben muttered. “I’m going in.”

“Kincaid! I mean it!”

“I don’t think you do,” Ben said quietly. “At least I hope not.”

“This is your last warning!”

Ben closed his eyes, said a quick, silent prayer, and walked into the memorial.

He was inside.

“Damn!” Seamus swore, holstering his gun. “Why didn’t he listen to me?”

“Couldn’t you have just wounded him?” Beldon asked.

“I’m not going to shoot a man for wanting to see his wife before-” He stopped short. “How long can he stay in there and still have time to escape the detonation?”

“We’ve got emergency transport lined up to get everyone out of range, but the last shuttle will leave when there’s five minutes left on the clock. If he stays longer than that, he’s doomed.”

“He’ll come out. He’s not stupid.”

“But his wife is in danger. He’s not thinking rationally. I’ve heard he’s a little off.”

“Why?” Seamus snarled. “Because he cares about his wife? Because he doesn’t want to trust her fate to your incompetent pussyfooting interrogators?”

“I don’t think it’s necessary for you to engage in-”

Seamus whirled on her. “I’m really not interested in what you think. I don’t believe you do it often and you’re not very good at it. I want you to give me another crack at Rybicki. It’s what Kincaid wanted.”