Mars settled onto the couch by Walter Smith. He put his hand on Smith's head as if he was stroking the soft fur between a dog's ears.

'They didn't give you the helicopter because they don't believe you're serious.'

Dennis paced away from the window, irritated. He didn't like Mars's smug I-know-something-that-you-don't smile. Mars had egged him on about robbing the minimart, and Mars had shot the cop at the front door.

'You don't know what you're talking about. They've got rules about this stuff. Fuck them anyway. I never thought we'd get a helicopter. I just thought it would be worth a try.'

Mars stroked Smith's head, running his fingers slowly over the man's scalp as if he was probing the contours of his skull. Dennis thought it was weird.

'You don't see the big picture, Dennis.'

'You want a picture, Mars? Here it is: We've gotta find a way out of here with that cash.'

Mars patted Smith's head.

'Our way out is right here. You don't understand the power we have.'

'The hostages? Jesus, they're all we have. If we didn't have these people, the cops would be all over us.'

When Mars looked up again, Dennis thought his eyes were brighter, and somehow now watchful.

'What we have is the fear they feel. Their fear gives us power. The police will only take us seriously if they're scared we'll kill these people. It isn't the people that we have to trade, Dennis. It's their death.'

Dennis thought he was kidding.

'Okay, dude. Mars, you're creeping me out.'

'The police have no reason to deal with us unless they take us seriously. All they have to do is wait until we get tired, and then we'll give up. They know that, Dennis. They're counting on it.'

Dennis felt his chest expand against a tight pressure that filled the room. Mars continued to watch him, his eyes now focused into hard, dark beads. Dennis had the vague feeling that somehow the power between them was shifting, that Mars was leading him somewhere and waiting to see if Dennis would follow.

'So how do we convince them?'

'Tell them we're going to let the fat boy go as a sign of good faith.'

Dennis didn't move. He could see Kevin from the corner of his eye, and knew that Kevin was feeling the same awful pressure.

'We send the fat boy out the front door. We don't go with him, we just open it and tell him to go. He just has to walk across the yard here and out to the cars, and he'll be fine. Your pal, Talley, he'll probably call the kid over, saying something like, "C'mon, son, everything is fine." '

Dennis's back felt wet and cold.

'We wait until he's about halfway across the yard, then we shoot him.'

Dennis heard his own heartbeat. He heard his breath flow across his teeth, a faraway hiss.

Mars spread his hands at the simple beauty of it.

'Then they'll know we mean business, and we'll have something to trade.'

Dennis tried to tell himself that Mars was kidding, but he knew that Mars was serious. Mars meant every word.

'Mars. We couldn't do something like that.'

Mars looked curious.

'I could. I'll do it, if you want.'

Dennis didn't know what to say. Overhead, the helicopters beat louder. He went to the shutters and pretended to look out, but the truth was that he couldn't look at Mars any longer. Mars had scared him.

'I don't think so, dude.'

'You don't?'

'No. We couldn't do that.'

The bright intensity in Mars's eyes faded like a candle losing its flame, and Mars shrugged. Dennis felt relieved. He told them to watch out for the cops, then he once more walked through the house. He went into every downstairs room around the perimeter of the house, checking each window to see if he could use it to sneak out, but all of the windows were in plain view of the cops. Dennis knew that his time was running out. If he was going to get out, he had to do it soon, because more cops were on the way. He moved along the rear of the house, through the family room and into the garage. He hoped to find some kind of side door, but instead he came to a small utility bathroom at the end of a workshop off the garage. A sliding window with frosted glass was let into the wall above the sink. Dennis opened it, and saw the heavy leaves of an oleander bush, dark green and pointed, thick against the dusty screen. He pressed his face to the screen and peered out, but it was impossible to see very much in the growing darkness. The window was on the street side of the wall that enclosed the backyard, but was hidden by the oleander. If the oleander wasn't there the cops out front would be able to see him. Dennis pushed out the screen, taking care to do it quietly. He opened the window wider, crawled up onto the sink, and leaned out. He would never have done this in the daylight, but the darkness gave him confidence. The ground was four feet below. He worked his shoulders through the window. The row of oleanders followed the wall, but he couldn't tell how far. He was growing excited. He pushed himself back into the house, then turned around so that he could step through feet first, one leg and then another. He lowered himself to the ground. He was outside the house.

Dennis crouched on the ground beneath the oleander, his back pressed to the high stucco wall, listening. He could hear the police radios from the cars parked at the front of the house. He caught tiny glimpses of the two cars through the leaves, glinting in the streetlight. He couldn't see the cops, but he knew they would be watching the front of the house, not the row of shrubs along the side wall. Dennis lay down at the base of the wall and inched along its length. The oleanders were thicker in some places and thinner in others, but the police didn't see him. He came to the end of the wall and saw that the oleanders continued into the neighbor's front yard. Dennis grew more excited. They could bag the cash, drag it along behind the oleanders, then slip away while the cops were watching the house, right under their noses!

Dennis worked his way back to the window and climbed into the house. Dennis was pumped! He was going to beat this thing! He was going to beat Talley, beat the murder rap, and cruise south to TJ in style.

He ran back to the office to tell Kevin and Mars that he had found the way out.

The planet Venus hung low in the blackening western sky, racing toward the ridge of mountains and the edge of Talley's roof. The stars were not yet out, but here in the high desert, away from the city, the sky would soon be washed with lights.

Talley's condominium was one of forty-eight stucco and stained-wood units spread over four buildings arranged like the letter H. Mature eucalyptus and podocarpus trees shouldered over the buildings like drunks leaning over a rail. Marion guessed that the condos had at one time been apartments, then converted and sold. Each unit had a small fenced patio at ground level, and centered between the four buildings was a very nice pool; small, unprotected parking lots were on either side of each building for the residents. It seemed like a pleasant place to live.

Marion walked through the grounds, hearing music and voices. Cars were turning into the parking lots, men and women still arriving from work; an older woman was methodically swimming laps, the pool's lone occupant; charcoal grills were smoking on several of the patios, filling the air with the smells of burning flesh.

Marion circled the building with Talley's unit. Because the buildings were of older construction (Marion guessed they had been built in the seventies), the gas meters, electric meters, and junction boxes for both telephones and cable TV were clustered together at an out-of-the-way spot opposite the parking lots. Any individual security systems would be junctioned with the telephone lines. Marion was pleased to see that the building had no alarms. Marion was neither surprised nor shocked; being a sleepy small town so far from LA, the greatest security the condo association might buy would be having a rent-a-cop cruise the parking lots every hour. If that.