T heo watched with concern as Natalia tended to her girlfriend’s wounded leg. She was still in the bathtub, and Natalia was kneeling beside her on the bloody tile floor. Theo and the other male hostage were seated in the dressing area just outside the bathroom, facing the open bathroom doorway, their backs against the wall and their hands and feet bound tightly. Falcon paced nervously from one end of the room to the other. He was sweating but refused to remove his coat. Theo was perspiring, too, as the room seemed to grow warmer with each passing minute. The lack of any ventilation gave the air a heavy, stale quality, as if they were drawing the same breath over and over again.

As best Theo could recall, this had all begun with a woman’s scream. Theo had burst into the room, and Falcon had fired a single gunshot. The errant bullet had apparently passed right through the bathroom wall and hit Natalia’s girlfriend in the thigh.

“How is she?” said Theo.

“Shut up!” said Falcon. He was still pacing, mumbling, as if struggling to formulate a coherent sentence. It seemed to frustrate him to no end that he was incapable of improving upon Theo’s words. “How is she?” he said.

“The bullet tore through the skin and took a little piece of her thigh with it,” said Natalia. “But the bleeding has stopped.”

“Good,” said Falcon. “No more bleeding. That’s real good.”

“It’s good only if her heart’s still beating,” said Theo.

“Shut up, you!” shouted Falcon. Then he looked at Natalia and said, “It’s still beating, right?”

“Yeah,” she said. “She’ll have a nasty scar when this thing heals, but it looks like she’s going to be okay.”

Theo winced at the response. Natalia was too far away to hear his whisper, so he waited until Falcon paced to the far end of the room, and then he spoke through his teeth. “Tell him that your friend needs a doctor.”

Falcon wheeled and said, “I heard that! I won’t have any phony emergencies around here. You hear me?”

“This isn’t phony,” said Theo. “Look at her. She’s barely conscious.”

“I decide who needs a doctor. That’s my call. I’m in control here. Understand?”

Theo worried about pushing too hard, but he didn’t want to let this drop. “Look, dude, you got three other hostages. Let this one go, okay? We’re talking about a gunshot wound from a pretty mean pistol you’re packing there. The bleeding may have stopped, but she’s a bloody mess already. She could go into shock, and you don’t need that kind of hassle.”

Falcon’s expression tightened. He seemed to be considering it.

Theo said, “You need to get her outta here.”

“I know, I know! Everybody just shut up!”

Theo said, “Be smart, dude. Cut a deal. Give up the girl, but get somethin’ in return. Maybe this is the bargaining chip you need to get that necklace you talked about.”

Falcon clearly liked the idea of negotiating, but he seemed less than keen on giving up a hostage. He dug the cell phone out of his pocket and gripped it tightly.

“That’s it,” said Theo, egging him on. “Make ’em start talking.”

“Swyteck,” Falcon said, barking into Theo’s cell phone. “Where’s my damn money? And where’s my necklace?” His face reddened with anger, as if he didn’t like the response. “Don’t give me any more excuses. I want my money and my necklace. You got five minutes. If my shit ain’t here by then, I shoot the black guy. You hear me? I’m gonna take out my gun, and I’m shooting your smart-mouthed friend right in the head!”

He muttered something under his breath and shoved the phone back into his pocket. Theo shot him a knowing expression, fully conveying that Falcon hadn’t fooled him.

Falcon said, “What are you looking at?”

“You didn’t open the flip phone,” said Theo. “You can’t make a call if you don’t open the flip.”

Falcon smiled, as if suddenly this were all just a big joke. “Didn’t open the flip phone. That’s some really bad news for you, isn’t it?”

“I’m not followin’ you, dude.”

Falcon stepped closer, speaking in a low, threatening voice. “Your friend Swyteck has a five-minute deadline,” he said as he aimed his pistol at Theo’s forehead. “And he doesn’t even know it.”

T he command center was starting to smell like bad coffee. People came and went, but their coffee cups remained behind. Did anyone ever actually dispose of disposable coffee cups? Jack counted thirteen half-empty ones lying around. Theo would have counted thirteen half-full ones, even with a maniac holding a gun to his head and a sleep-deprived lawyer about to negotiate for his release. They were just wired differently, or at least they held fundamentally different perceptions of Jack’s abilities. To Theo, Jack was a miracle worker, the tenacious young lawyer who had gotten him off death row. To Jack, Theo was the figurative sponge that had already soaked up Jack’s lifetime allocation of luck-and then some.

“Try not to use the word ‘no,’” Sergeant Paulo said to Jack. “No matter what Falcon says, no matter what he asks for, just don’t slam any doors in his face.”

The Bushman’s request for a peep show suddenly popped into Jack’s mind. “What if he asks to talk to Alicia?” said Jack.

“That’s a good example,” said Paulo. “Tell him that you’ll have to check on that. You’ll look into it. Make no promises, but don’t shut him down. You’re in the perfect position, because there really isn’t anything that you can give him without getting approval from the police, the mayor, Alicia, or whoever.”

“Do I raise this issue of the Disappeared?”

“Don’t force it,” said Paulo. “If it comes up, go with it. But remember, he has yet to use that term with us. I’m afraid to raise it with him until we understand the concept better. If we just spring it on him, we may unleash some personal demons that could cause him to freak out and hurt one of the hostages.”

“His arrest record said he came here from Cuba,” said Jack. “Maybe we should check and see if los desaparecidos is a way of referring to the homeless in Cuba.”

“That’s a good thought,” said Paulo.

Jack looked at Alicia and said, “What do you think?”

The question seemed to jar her from deeper thoughts. “Me?”

“Yeah. Your Spanish is excellent-a heck of a lot better than mine, anyway. What do you think about the notion of the homeless being the Disappeared?”

“Hard to say. I suppose it’s worth looking into.”

“Do you have a different theory?”

She paused before saying, “No. Not really.”

Jack sensed that something was being left unsaid, though as a criminal defense lawyer he often got that feeling when talking with cops. He glanced at Paulo but couldn’t read his expression. Jack let it go.

“You ready to make the call?” asked Paulo.

“Yeah,” said Jack. “Let’s do it.”

Alicia slid the phone to the center of the table and dialed the number. Jack drew a deep breath and let it out with the first ring. It rang twice more before he inhaled again. On the fourth ring, Falcon answered.

“Joe’s Deli,” he said.

The stupid joke threw off Jack’s rhythm momentarily. “Falcon, it’s me. Swyteck.”

“You got my necklace?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do.”

“What about the money?”

Jack searched for the mantra that Paulo had planted in his head. “We’re working on the money.”

“What’s the problem?”

“No problem. Just typical offshore banking hassle. Be cool.”

“I want my money.”

“I understand. But right now we’ve got the food Paulo promised you-some burgers, fries, and nice cold drinks. And we have your necklace. That’s a pretty darn good start, don’t you think?”

“Minimal,” he said.

“But you know the drill. Even little things count for a lot, especially when you’re dealing with cops. If it were up to me, I’d just give all this stuff to you. But these guys always want something in return. So, I hate to do this to you, pal. But what are you gonna give me?”