Standoff

CHAPTER

 

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Why aren't they answering the phone?" Events had reduced Dendy's characteristic bellow to a high-pitched squeal. He was beside himself.

 

Indeed, the gunshots had plunged everyone inside the van into a state of near panic. Cole Davison had rushed outside, only to return moments later, yelling at Galloway because the SWAT team had been mobilized.

 

"You promised! You said Ronnie wouldn't get hurt. If you pressure him, if he feels like you're closing in on him, he might… might do something like he did before."

 

"Calm down, Mr. Davison. I'm taking precautionary measures as I see fit." Galloway held the telephone receiver to his ear, but thus far his call into the convenience store had gone unanswered. "Can anybody see anything?"

 

"Movement," one of the other agents hollered. Via a headset, he was communicating with another agent outside who was equipped with binoculars. "Can't make out who's doing what."

 

"Keep me posted."

 

"Yes, sir. Are you going to tell the kid about Huerta?"

 

"Who's that?" Dendy wanted to know.

 

"Luis Huerta. One of our Ten Most Wanted." To the other agent, Galloway replied, "No, I'm not going to tell them. That might panic everyone, including Huerta. He's capable of just about anything."

 

Ronnie answered the phone. "Not now, we're busy!"

 

Galloway swore lavishly when the dial tone replaced

 

Ronnie's frantic voice. He immediately redialed.

 

"One of the Mexicans in there is on the FBI's Ten Most

 

Wanted list?" Cole Davison was becoming increasingly distraught.

 

"What for? What'd he do?"

 

"He smuggles Mexican nationals across the border with promises of work visas and well-paying jobs, then sells them into slave labor. Last summer Border Patrol got tipped of a transport and were hot on his tail. Huerta and two of his henchmen, realizing they were about to be apprehended, abandoned the truck in the New Mexico desert and scattered like the cockroaches they are. All evaded capture.

 

"The van wasn't found for three days. Forty-five people— men, women, and children—had been locked in from the outside. The heat inside the trailer must've reached two hundred degrees or higher. Huerta is wanted on forty-five counts of murder and miscellaneous other felonies.

 

"For almost a year he's been holed up somewhere in

 

Mexico. The authorities down there are cooperative and want him as badly as we do, but he's a cagey bastard. Only one thing could get him to risk exposure. Money. Lots of it. So if he's resurfaced here, then I'm guessing that somewhere in the general vicinity there's a shipment of people waiting to be sold."

 

Davison looked ready to heave his last meal. "Who's the man with him?"

 

"One of his bodyguards, I'm sure. They're dangerous,

 

7

 

ruthless men, and their stock in trade is human beings.

 

What puzzles me is why they aren't armed. Or if they are, why they haven't shot their way out before now."

 

Dendy's chest rose and fell, emitting a gurgling sound like a sob. "Listen, Galloway. I've been thinking."

 

Even though Galloway kept the telephone receiver to his ear, he gave Russell Dendy his full attention. He suspected that Dendy was tight. He'd been sipping at the flask throughout the evening. He appeared extremely upset, on the brink of losing control of his emotions. He was no longer being a belligerent pain in the ass.

 

"I'm listening, Mr. Dendy."

 

'Just get them out of there safely. That's what's important now. Tell Sabra she can keep the baby. I won't interfere.

 

That videotape of my daughter…" He rubbed the back of his hand across leaking eyes. "It got to me. Nothing else matters anymore. I just want to see my daughter safely out of there."

 

"That's my goal too, Mr. Dendy," Galloway assured him.

 

"Agree to any of the boy's terms."

 

"I'll negotiate for him the best deal I can. But first, I've got to get him to talk to me."

 

The telephone continued to ring.

 

"Ronnie?"

 

The young man didn't realize that Doc was in possession of the pistol. Evidently, in all the confusion, Ronnie had forgotten about Cain's secreted weapon. Doc raised his hand, and, seeing the gun, the younger man flinched.

 

Donna let out a squeak of fright before clapping both hands over her mouth.

 

But Doc palmed the short barrel and extended the grip toward Ronnie. "That's how much faith I have in you to make the right decision."

 

Looking terribly young, uncertain, and vulnerable,

 

Ronnie took the gun and stuffed it into the waistband of his jeans. "You already know my decision, Doc."

 

"Suicide? That's not a decision. That's a chickenshit copout."

 

The boy blinked in surprise over the blunt language, but it served to shake his resolve, which Tiel surmised was

 

Doc's intention. "I don't want to talk about it. Sabra and I

 

have made up our minds."

 

"Answer the phone," Doc encouraged in a calm, persuasive voice. "Tell them what happened in here. They heard the shots. They don't know what the hell is going on, but they're probably thinking the worst. Allay their fears, Ronnie. Otherwise, at any second a SWAT team may come barging in here, and somebody will wind up bloody, possibly dead."

 

"What SWAT team? You're lying."

 

"Would I lie to you after handing you a loaded gun?

 

Hardly. I saw men taking up positions while you were distracted by tying up those Mexican guys. The SWAT team is out there, itching for a signal from Galloway. Don't give him reason to activate them."

 

Ronnie glanced nervously through the plate glass, but he could see nothing except the growing number of official vehicles that had converged on the area and created a traffic jam on the highway.

 

"Let me answer the phone, Ronnie," Tiel suggested, stepping forward to take advantage of his indecision.

 

"Let's hear what they have to say about the video. Their reaction to it might have been very positive. They could be calling to agree to all your conditions."

 

"Okay," he muttered, motioning her toward the telephone.

 

She counted it a blessing to stop the infernal ringing.

 

"It's Tiel," she said upon lifting the receiver.

 

"Ms. McCoy, who fired those shots? What's going on in there?"

 

Galloway's brusqueness conveyed his concern. Not wanting to keep him in suspense, as succinctly as possible she explained how Cain's pistol had come to be fired. "It was hairy there for a minute or two, but the situation is now under control again. The two men who caused the fracas have been contained," she said, using Doc's euphemistic terminology.

 

"You're referring to the two Mexican men?"

 

"That's correct."

 

"They're secure?"

 

"Correct again."

 

"And where is Agent Cain's pistol now?"

 

"Doc gave it to Ronnie."

 

"I beg your pardon?"

 

"As a sign of trust, Mr. Galloway," she said testily, in

 

Doc's defense.

 

The FBI agent expelled a long breath. "That's a hell of a lot of trust, Ms. McCoy."

 

"It was the right thing to do. You'd have to be here to understand."

 

"Apparently," he said dryly.

 

While talking to Galloway, she'd been listening with one ear to Doc as he continued trying to persuade Ronnie to surrender. She heard him say, "You're a father now. You're responsible for your family. Sabra's condition is critical, and there's nothing more I can do for her."

 

Galloway asked, "You don't feel in danger of him?"

 

"Not at all."

 

"Are any of the hostages in danger?"

 

"Presently, no. I can't predict what will happen if those guys in body armor charge the place."

 

"I don't intend to give that order."

 

"Then why are they there?" He paused for a long moment, and Tiel got the uneasy and distinct impression that he was withholding something, something important.

 

"Mr. Galloway, if there's something I should know—"

 

"We've had a change of heart."

 

"You're giving up and going away?" At this point, that would be her fondest wish.

 

Galloway ignored her facetiousness. "The videotape was effective. You'll be glad to learn that it achieved exactly what you hoped. Mr. Dendy was touched by his daughter's appeal and is now ready to make concessions. He wants this to end peaceably and safely. As we all do. What is Ronnie's current state of mind?"

 

"Doc's working on him."

 

"How is he responding?"

 

"Favorably, I think."

 

"Good. That's good."

 

He sounded relieved, and, again, Tiel got the impression that the federal agent was withholding something she'd be better off knowing.

 

"Do you think he'll go for total surrender?"

 

"He specified the conditions under which he would surrender,

 

Mr. Galloway."

 

"Dendy will concede that this was a runaway and not a kidnaping. Of course the additional charges would stand."

 

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