"Check his family," Lucas suggested. "There oughta be a phone number."

The negotiator found the Bemidji number in Anderson's notebook, dialed it, found it busy. "That's it," he said. "We ought to have somebody get onto the sheriff's office up there, get them to go see his wife. We might want to talk to her. We can get her to call here, and then switch her in, so we can hear what they're saying."

A plainclothes cop hurried up. "One of the roommates says that Hood tried to fire a rifle and it blew up on him. He's hurt. He's got a cut on his face, he's bleeding. The roommate doesn't think it's too bad."

Lucas looked at Lily, and Lily grinned and nodded.

Five minutes later, the negotiator got through again.

"You can't get out, Billy. All that's gonna happen is that somebody's gonna get hurt. We'll get you a lawyer, free, we'll get you.'… Fuck."

"Try his wife?" Lucas suggested.

"How about those two guys who came out?" asked Lily. "Maybe they'd help…"

Kieffer drifted up to the car. "I thought you were out of here," Lucas said, standing to confront him.

"We're observing," Kieffer said bitterly.

"Observe my ass." Lucas stood directly in front of Kieffer, their chests almost touching.

"Fuckin' touch me, Davenport," Kieffer said. "I'll have your ass in jail…"

"I'll touch you," Lily said, pushing between them. Lucas reluctantly gave a step. "You gonna put me in jail for assault? I'm not so polite as these Minneapolis assholes, Kieffer, and I don't have to honor any of Daniel's deals. I can go talk to the TV on my own."

"Fuck it," Kieffer said, stepping back. "I'm observing."

The negotiator tried again, spoke longer this time. "You can trust us… Wait a minute, let me talk to a guy…"

He finally turned to Lucas, covered the mouthpiece on the phone and said, "You know any Indians?"

"A few."

"You want to try him? He's scared. Mention these people you know…"

Lucas took the phone. "Billy Hood. This is Lucas Davenport from the Minneapolis cops. Listen, you know Dick Yellow Hand, a friend of Bluebird's? Or Chief Dooley, the barber? Do you know Earl and Betty May? They're friends of mine, man. They'd be worried about you. I'm worried about you. There's nothing you can do in there. You'll just get hurt. If you come out, you'll be okay. I swear."

There was another moment of silence. Then Hood said, "You know Earl and Betty?"

"Yeah, man. You could call them. They'd tell you I'm okay."

"You white?"

"Yeah, yeah, but I don't want to hurt anybody. Come on out, Billy. I swear to God nobody wants to shoot at you. Walk on out and we can all go home."

"Let me think, man. Let me think, okay?" "Okay, Billy." The line went dead.

"What?" Lucas asked the negotiator, who had been listening on a headset.

"He may be calling these people. Earl and Betty, was that their names?"

"Yeah. Just about everybody knows them."

"We'll give him two minutes and try again."

Two minutes later, the line was busy. After three, they got through. The negotiator said a few words, then handed the phone to Lucas.

"Is this the guy who knows Earl and Betty?" Hood asked.

"Yeah. Davenport," Lucas said.

"I'll come out, but I want you to come up here and get me. If I just come outside, one of those white boys is gonna snipe me."

"No, they won't, Billy… Listen…" Lucas hunched over the phone.

"Bullshit, man, don't bullshit me. Those guys been against me for a long time. Ever since I was born, man. They're just waiting. I got nothing against you, so you'd be safe. You want me out, you come up here."

Lucas looked at the negotiator. "What do you think?"

"He killed the guy in New York," the negotiator said. "He tried to kill the FBI team."

"He had a reason. Maybe he really wants the protection."

"He's scared," the negotiator agreed.

"What are you going to do?" Hood asked.

"Hold on a minute, we're talking," Lucas said. He looked at Lily. "There might not be any other way to take him alive."

"You'd be nuts to go in there," Lily objected. "We've got him. Sooner or later he's got to come out and nobody has to get hurt. Nobody out here…"

"We need to talk to him."

"I don't need to talk to him," she said. "I just need him any way we can get him. Dead or alive."

"You don't care if we get the rest of the group?" Lucas asked.

"Sure. Theoretically. But Hood's my man. After he's taken care of, the rest is up to you and the feebs."

Kieffer had been standing back from the car, looking down the street at the apartment. "It'd take some balls to go in there," he said.

His tone was ambiguous, as if he weren't sure that Lucas would do it.

"Hey, we aren't talking balls here," the negotiator said, anger in his voice.

"Yeah, what the fuck did that crack mean, Kieffer?" Lily asked, turning to Kieffer with her hands on her hips.

"Take it easy," Lucas said, waving them off. He didn't look at Kieffer but stared past the negotiator at the apartment window. With the glass broken out, it was a black square in the red stone. "I'll give it a try."

"God damn it, Davenport, you're crazy," Lily said. But then she said, "Talk to him through the window. Don't go inside, just talk over the ledge."

Lucas got back on the phone. "Billy? I'm ready, man."

"Well, come on."

"You're not bullshitting me?"

"I'm not, I just don't want one of them white boys to snipe me, man."

"They see him from across the street. They got a gun on him. He's halfway up into the room," the radio man said quietly, as he listened on his headset. "Del says that when you get up there, if he tries anything, you drop below the window; we'll hose him down."

"Okay." Lucas glanced at Lily, nodded and said into the phone, "I'm stepping out, Billy. I'm down the street, way to your right as you look out the window."

"Come on, man. This is getting old."

Lucas stepped out from behind the car, his hands held wide and open at shoulder height.

"Okay, man," he yelled at the window.

He walked slowly down the street, his hands wide, conscious of two dozen sets of eyes following him. The day was cool, but he could feel sweat starting on his back. A line of blue-and-white pigeons watched from.a red-tiled roof down the street. On another roof, beside a chimney and out of Hood's line of sight, an ERU officer was lined up on the window with an M-16. A police radio poked unintelligible sentences into the morning air. Lucas was thirty feet out.

"Come on, man, you're okay," Hood called from the window. Lucas moved closer, his hands still away from his side. When he was five feet from the window, Hood called again. "Come straight on in. I'll be off to the left. I don't want to see no gun pointing at me, man. I'm really tight, you know?"

Lucas reached out, touched the outer wall of the building and eased up to the window. Looking in at a sharp angle, he could see nothing but a broken-down chair. He moved a little farther into the window opening. There was nobody in his line of sight. The red beanbag was squashed in the middle of the floor, with a dent in it, as though somebody had been thrown on top of it.

"I'm giving up, man," Hood said. His voice came from off to the right, but Lucas still couldn't see him. He took another step.

"I want you inside," Hood said.

"I can't do that, Billy," Lucas said.

"You're just setting me up, man. You're just making me a target. If I come to that window, I'm a dead man, aren't I?"

"I swear to God, Billy…"

"You don't have to swear to God. Just get up in that window. I'll be there. I want you to go out right in front of me, man, so those white boys don't snipe me."

Lucas looked around once, muttered "Fuck it" under his breath, put his hands on the window ledge and boosted himself up. As he crawled onto the ledge, Hood was suddenly there, his back to the outer wall. He was looking at Lucas over the shotgun.