Well.

It was time to discuss things. We did. Not at length, naturally, but we got a bunch of thoughts together, and found that we were in substantial agreement on most points.

Stopping the van was an excellent idea, and had taken control from Gabriel. It hadn't put us in control, not yet. But there was at least more of an even playing field.

The boat, while it could be hurt, wasn't going to be sinking in the traditional sense. Passengers might be jeopardized in the long term, but not immediately. The captain explained that he thought the worst danger was that, since the engines would become inoperative if submerged, and that since the upper decks were mostly windows, it was going to get pretty damned cold onboard if they did anything drastic.

Not an urgent thing, at least not in the current environment.

We had apparently put a lot of pressure on the bad guys at the bank. Good. We also got confirmation that they couldn't see anything but the boat's stacks from the bank, in the best of times. Therefore, they were probably unable to see the stopped van at the boat dock. Uncertainty. Good.

We didn't want the gunmen to panic. All we wanted to do at this point was severely undermine their confidence, and it looked like we were making good progress there. All we had to do was just hold our ground, wait for the negotiator, and make preparations to get the passengers off the boat as soon as we could. Hester had an excellent suggestion.

"Get a couple of ambulances in – close, but not in the hazard zone. But obvious. Let 'em wonder who they're for…"

The group in the stretch van ought to really appreciate that. We had Sally call the ambulances to the scene.

We also started to marshal school buses across the river, in parking lots of the Conception County Sheriffs Department. If we had to off-load a bunch of passengers, we'd want a way to get them to the nearest shelter. In this case, the school gym.

Based on Nancy's report, and the reaction on the phone at the bank, it appeared that cracks were starting to appear in the opposition's confidence.

The loose talk around the passengers was a very good sign, and the voice on the bank phone sounded stressed as all get-out. And we hadn't heard from Gabriel for a while. Busy with the troops?

"Like I said, they don't have a lot of really good people in this," I said. "Just a couple. Discipline is going to be a problem."

"Lack of training," said Volont. "But not a failure of leadership. Gabriel is a very strong leader. Don't underestimate that."

"But with untrained people, he's going to have to be right there. The ones that are separated from him, they're the ones who are going to start coming apart." Hester kept looking at the boat. "Makes me wonder, though. They're getting sort of nervous on the boat. They are really nervous at the bank. You suppose he's in the stretch van stranded on the ramp?"

Interesting thought. If he was in the van, it was the best thing that could happen to us. If we could take that van, and let the boat and the bank be fully aware of it… Decapitate the whole operation. How far could the rest of them be from surrender, if we took the stretch van and Gabriel really was in it?

"Alpha Lead," called Volont on the radio, "report up here ASAP." He was calling the TAC team commander. Volont beamed at Hester. "I like that idea."

By the time the TAC team commander arrived, we had something of a plan. The little group in the stranded stretch van was really dangling out there. No place to hide. No place to run. In a clear fire zone, especially with the boat now away from the dock. There was absolutely nothing to prevent us from taking them apart, if necessary. All we had to do was come up with a plan to convince them that we were about to do it if they resisted in any way, and then simply arrest them. Piece of cake.

The team commander agreed that they could be taken out without a problem. Arresting he wasn't so sure about.

It became a matter of approach. If, as we hoped, Gabriel was in the van, we'd have to be careful not to make any mistakes at all. One false step, and he'd grab any possible advantage.

The team commander, who was aware of Gabriel's background and the likely anti-Fed mentality of his group, suggested that we have either a local or a county officer go with him to approach the stretch van.

No names, but I looked around the office. I was the only one who fit that bill.

We came up with our plan. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" What could I say? No? Of course I wasn't comfortable about it. I didn't want to do it. One of those lovely little moments, when you agree with everything that was going to be done, but had a little reservation about who was going to get stuck with it.

"Just remember, we aren't going over there to arrest anybody. Just to give them something to think about."

"Like shooting the pale deputy?"

He laughed. "You'll be fine."

I hoped he was right.

The view of the stretch van from street level was a bit different. We were much closer, for one thing, and the fog wasn't much of a factor. You could see at least one head inside. The driver. The rest were fairly well obscured by shadow. I mean, it looked kind of lumpy in there, but you couldn't make out individuals. It was hard to believe there were seven of them in there.

The stretch van was down by the bow, as they say, with both front tires flattened, and the right rear as well. Although I knew it wasn't intentional, leaving that one tire up was a good thing. The occupants had to be just a little more uncomfortable, with a list like that. If we'd been able to shoot out all four tires, they'd have been on an even keel. Kind of reminded me of the old-fashioned interrogation chairs, with the front legs an inch shorter than the rear. The sensation of being about to slide out of the chair apparently made the interviewee most uncomfortable.

The engine was running, presumably for the heater. Even with the flat tires, I had to remind myself that they could move if they needed to. Just not too far or too fast.

We stopped just across the street from the stretch van, near the front of the fire truck. As planned, we climbed up into the cab, and scrutinized the radio and siren boxes, until we were sure we could turn on the truck's PA system. I was always a little nervous with an unfamiliar siren box. You had to turn the rotary switch to "PA" and then activate the siren switch. With this one, and we'd been warned, you also had to switch the mike box over from "radio" to "PA," or you'd just set off the siren. We were extra careful, because we didn't want to startle the occupants of the stretch van into something regrettable. Like shooting us, for instance.

Click. Click. So far, so good. Key the mike. Well, you can't win them all. We both had our heads down, and pulling the mike to my mouth only got it about three inches from the radio. Feedback. The resulting squeal sounded like fingernails on a blackboard, magnified about a thousand times. It only lasted about half a second, but it scared the hell out of me. I released the "talk" button, and slid back across the passenger's seat, so that my feet were on the paving, and just my elbows were in the truck.

"Wanna try that again?"

"Shit," I said. "Yeah. Should have thought of that." I cleared my throat, and stood on the running board with the mike in my hand. I keyed it again, and there was just a hiss from the speaker on the roof of the truck. So far, so good.

Following that squeal wasn't easy, so I figured I'd better keep it simple and straightforward.

"Two of us are coming over to talk to you. Don't shoot. Understand?" There was no reaction. I put the mike down. "That okay?"

"Don't do much public address work, do you?" said Adams, with a grin. "It'll do. Let's go."