But, now, regardless of anything else, our most direct path to the boat was cleared. The odds were getting better all the time.

We reassessed, as they say. It was decided to begin to bring rescue equipment toward the boat, since the threat in the stretch van had been neutralized, and we could begin to bring people in a bit closer. We called the main office, and asked for Captain Olinger to come back up to the DCI office. We needed to plan.

Sometimes it's hard to see any real progress in a given situation. I mean, here things were, with better access to a boat we still couldn't get to, which was still occupied by several hundred gamers as hostage, held by a few armed individuals who were not about to let us get much closer than we were. A small increment, at best. But, I thought, progress, nonetheless.

Until I talked with George.

"You know, what we've done is eliminate the only suspects we could hold hostage…" He looked at me, startled at his own thoughts. "If Gabriel ordered them to surrender, he just saved their lives, eliminated the threat that they could be killed or injured, and has kept the ante the same."

"Smoothed out the lines," said Adams. He shivered in the cold, damp air. "Looks like we just rescued some of his people for him."

Art had come up while we were talking. "Well, that means we got some people to charge if things go to hell on us."

Always practical.

Captain Olinger came in. "You have a plan? I understand you have a plan…"

Lamar arrived a few moments later. I'd never been so glad to see him in my life, because I knew what was coming, and I honestly didn't want the decision on my shoulders. We had another little impromptu get-together. The upshot was that, to pressure Gabe and to force his surrender, we had to take the bank. Volont really pressed Lamar, because it was Lamar's decision. His primary jurisdiction.

"He's a soldier, Sheriff. He is. He won't kill just to be doing it. I know that. You know that. Once we take the bank, the whole reason for his whole operation is over. Done."

Lamar looked at him for a moment, and then just walked off a few feet, stomping his good foot in the slush. "Carl, Hester, come here, will ya?"

We stood with him, nobody saying a word. Finally, he asked our opinion. "So, what do you think?"

"My best guess," I said, "is this: He hasn't hurt anybody on the boat or in the bank. We have no indication that he's going to do bad things on the boat. Unless we do, I say wait him out."

"I agree," said Hester. "When he has to try to feed several hundred people out there on the water, he's done. Forty-eight hours or less, and he just drops into our laps."

"So, you don't think we should try the bank, then?"

We both said, "No."

"Unless he does something to the boat?"

Right.

"Even then, it depends on what he does. As sheriff, it's my call." Lamar was quiet for a few more seconds, and then he turned back to the FBI agent in charge. "Let it wait. Plan it, set it up, and then wait. It ain't time, yet."

I thought it was a fine decision.

We just got back into Hester's office at the pavilion, when the phone rang. Sally made her now familiar "It's Gabriel" signal, and put him on speaker phone.

"Let me speak to Volont."

"This is Sheriff Ridgeway. I think you'd better talk to me, first."

"The sheriff himself. Well, this is an honor. What kept you?"

"Business," said Lamar. "Why don't you just knock off the shit, and give up. You know we ain't gonna let your people out of the bank. You know you're gonna have to give up the boat. Why prolong things?"

"I hate to disappoint you," said the heavy voice, "but I have other plans."

"We all got plans, son," said Lamar. "Doesn't mean a lot."

Gabriel actually chuckled. "You've got balls, for a gimpy old fucker," he said. "I think you'd give me a lot tougher time than Special Agent Volont." The humor left his voice like he'd turned off a switch. "My plans tend to mean quite a bit," he said. "Please direct your attention to the boat." He broke the connection.

We looked. We couldn't see anything farther back than the bow. Nothing.

Suddenly, there was a cloud of yellowish brown billowing up from inside the fog, and a distant thump that you could feel in your feet.

"Shit!" Lamar turned to Volont. "Get 'em to move on the bank," he said.

Captain Olinger, the off-duty boat captain, rushed to the window.

"What? Who the hell is he?" asked Lamar. They hadn't had time to be introduced, I explained as Olinger began to describe things.

"Watch her," said the captain. "If she settles by the stern, that might be good. It looked like the smoke was from the port side, maybe aft of the paddle wheels… she should settle by the stern… yeah, see…"

It did look as if she was getting a little lower in the water, and I could have sworn I could see more of the surface of the decks than I could a few minutes ago.

There was a spreading stain on the water, emerging from the fog from the direction of the after portion of the Beauregard.

"Is that fuel coming out?" Lamar always worried about fires.

"I don't think so… no," said Captain Olinger. "What it looks like is sewage."

"Sewage?" I was surprised.

"Yeah… there's a ninety-four-hundred-gallon sewage tank, just above the propeller shafts, straddling two big void spaces… and it looks to me like she's open to the river around void five and the engine room."

"Is it sinking?" asked Lamar.

"Not yet," said Captain Olinger. "Just a minute…"

There was a sudden jet of water coming through the fog, from the side, about the middle of the boat. Low.

"Pumps," said Olinger. "Automatic."

"Will that work?" asked Hester.

"It helps. If that's it," said Captain Olinger, "then she won't sink." He pointed to the security diagram on Hester's bulletin board. "She's got six transverse watertight bulkheads," he said, "and it looks to me like the holing occurred about here…" He drew an X near the stern. "Worst case would be on both sides of the bulkhead that separates the engine room and void five." He smiled. "If that's it, then she's stable right now."

"How stable," asked Hester, "is stable?"

"Really stable. She can stay like that forever and not go down another inch."

The phone rang, and Sally put it on speaker. It was Gabriel.

"Impressed?"

Nobody answered.

"Oh, come now. Surely you appreciate the talent, here?" He sounded amused. "I'm assuming that you have somebody accessible who can tell you about the boat?"

He anticipated just about everything, I guess. Well, you would have, if you'd planned this long enough.

"This is Captain Olinger."

"Ah, Captain. As you've probably determined, I've flooded the engine room and the last compartment aft. If you haven't, you know it now."

"I had."

"Good for you." The humor was back in Gabriel's voice. "The next charge is set to open what you call void four, with the next charge after that at the generator room."

"There's a ten thousand gallon fuel tank in void four!"

"Stay calm, Captain. The charges just let in the water. They're not set to even affect the fuel tank."

"How can you be sure?" Volont stuck his two cents worth in.

"Ah, Super Asshole in Control Volont! You of all people should know I can do that."

None of us in the office spoke.

"Let my people out of the bank when they signal you to do so, allow them to proceed where they wish, and I won't set off charges two and three. Ask the good captain. Charge two will put her on the edge, and charge three will sink her. It's your call."

The phone went dead.