“Dude, give it a rest,” said Theo.

Falcon stopped, looked down at Theo, and pointed the gun at his knee. “You interrupt me one more time, and you’ll be setting off metal detectors for the rest of your life. You understand me?”

Had Theo been just a foot closer, he could have hooked Falcon behind the knee and brought him to the floor with a roundhouse kick. But then what? Theo’s hands were bound behind his waist, the girl beside him was tied up, and Theo had no way of knowing whether the guy who was hiding in the bathroom would come out to help or sit tight and let Falcon shoot them. Theo said, “Yeah, I understand you.”

“Good. Now get up off the floor.”

Theo didn’t move. It gave him a sinking feeling, the thought of breaking off any chance to communicate with the man in the bathroom.

“Now! Up against the wall, next to the girl.”

Slowly, Theo complied. It was just as well. He’d seen enough cop shows on television to know that the two most dangerous points in time for hostages were right off the bat, at the taking, and later, when someone tried to escape. It was like flying: takeoffs and landings accounted for ninety-nine percent of the fatalities. They’d made it through the takeoff, so to speak. Halfway home. He needed a plan of attack, not a knee-jerk reaction, if they were going to bring this baby home for a safe landing. Until he had a game plan, it was a virtual certainty that all hell would break loose when that bathroom door opened.

“I have to pee,” the girl said.

“Hold it,” said Falcon.

Damn straight, cross your legs, thought Theo.

“I can’t. I’ve been holding it for two hours. Please, just let me go to the bathroom.”

Falcon made a face. “All right. I’ll let you use the bathroom. But if you try anything,” he said, aiming the gun to Theo’s head, “the black guy gets it. Comprende?”

She nodded.

Beautiful, thought Theo. Just beautiful.

The phone rang. Theo recognized the ring as his own, but his cell phone was in Falcon’s pocket. Falcon froze. The pulsing ring continued. Three times. A fourth.

“You gonna answer that?” said Theo.

It rang a fifth time, then a sixth. A chime followed-way too cheery-sounding for the circumstances-indicating that the unanswered call was going to voice mail. Falcon stood frozen, as if paralyzed with indecision.

At the front of the room, the opening above the drapes suddenly brightened. The cops had switched on a spotlight in the parking lot. Theo heard the click of a public address system outside, then an amplified voice that sounded almost mechanical.

“Falcon, it’s me. Vince Paulo. I’m dialing again. Answer the phone, please.”

There was utter silence for thirty seconds. No one moved.

Then the phone started to ring again.

“IF HE DOESN’T answer this time,” said Chavez, “it’s time to start thinking about a breach.”

A breach meant a forced entry. Vince wasn’t ready to go there yet. “He’ll answer.”

He waited in the silence of the cool night air, precious seconds ticking away with each hollow, unanswered ring of the telephone. The call went to the sixth ring, and then Theo’s voice-mail message came again. Vince ended the call.

“How much longer do you intend to keep this up?” said Chavez.

“It’s early. I know this guy. It takes a while to get him talking.”

“How long can you stay sharp without sleep?”

It was a fair question, but it suddenly had Vince wondering about his medication. It was back at his house. Even if he’d brought it with him, he couldn’t take it, since it made him sleepy. Antidepressants, however, weren’t something to stop cold-turkey. He hadn’t missed a dose since starting the prescription six months ago. One night would probably be okay. But what if this standoff stretched into two? Or three? Or longer? “I’ll let you know when it’s time to make a change.”

“They could all be dead in there already,” said Chavez. “I think you should get on the PA again and tell him to answer the phone or we’re coming in.”

“Let’s hold off on the threats, okay?” Vince redialed the number. This time, the phone rang three times and stopped, but there was only silence on the line. Vince gripped the receiver a little tighter. “Falcon, are you there?” No one answered, but the line was definitely open. “Falcon, this is Vince Paulo.”

“What do you want?”

Vince tried not to sound too happy to have a voice on the line. “Just checking in. Wanted to make sure everything is okay.”

“Passable. I would have liked a view of the swimming pool, but what can you expect without a reservation?”

A sense of humor was a good sign. Guys on the edge rarely cracked a joke. “Are you hungry?” said Vince.

“I live in a car, remember, asshole? I been hungry for eleven years.”

“We could get you some food. How about some burgers?”

“Sounds good.”

“How many?”

“Two. Some french fries, too.”

“How about for the rest of the gang?”

“Sure. Bring some for them, too.”

“How many burgers we talking about then?”

“I don’t know. Bring two more.”

“One for each of them?”

“Yeah. One apiece. That’s enough.”

Vince raised two fingers, signaling to the others. He’d confirmed it: two hostages inside, no more. “Okay, that’s four burgers and some french fries. I’ll throw in some drinks, too. But you know how this works, Falcon. We’ve done this before. My boss won’t let me give you something for nothing.”

“I can pay for it. Just as soon as Swyteck brings me my money.”

Vince had to handle this one carefully. Sooner or later they needed to address the missing money, but this negotiation was doomed if he didn’t let Falcon know straight up that he couldn’t just send his lawyer out for cash and then buy whatever he needed. “It’s not a matter of money, Falcon. Why don’t you let the hostages go?”

“Why don’t you stop talking shit?”

“This is not doing any of us any good, Falcon. I can’t help you with innocent people at gunpoint.”

“I’m not letting them go.”

“I can understand how you might think that way, but let me be straight with you. This is not a threat. All I’m trying to do is give you an accurate picture of what’s going on out here. The police have surrounded the entire building. There are City of Miami cops here. Miami-Dade Police Department is here, too. They have shut down the entire neighborhood. Escape is not an option. So let’s make a deal here and now, all right? You don’t try an escape, I don’t send in the SWAT. We cool with that?”

Falcon didn’t answer. Vince saw that as a good sign. Immediate rejection punctuated with profanity would have been a bad sign. “I understand you have a woman in there with you. Is that right?”

Still no answer.

“Can you tell us her name?” Vince waited, but he got no reply. “Maybe you don’t know her name. Why don’t you ask her and tell us?”

“Sure thing,” said Falcon. The ensuing silence was long enough for Vince to build up hope that Falcon had covered the mouthpiece and was actually speaking to his hostage.

“She says her name is Amelia Earhart, and she wants to talk to Geraldo.”

Geraldo? thought Vince. Obviously, he hadn’t watched television lately. “That’s a good one, Falcon. But it’s important for us to know her name.”

“I told you enough already.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. You just take your time and think about what I said before. And think hard about letting those hostages go. It would count for a lot if you did, Falcon. Judges like it when you show some goodwill.”

“Who the hell are you to be talking about goodwill? You told me to come down from the bridge and I could talk to Alicia Mendoza. That didn’t happen, did it, Paulo?”

“Things are going to be handled different this time.”

“No they aren’t. You lied then, and you’ll lie again this time.”

The mood swing was startling. Vince had to bring back that guy with the sense of humor who answered the phone. “I won’t lie to you.”