The men were quiet, but their looks were intense. Chavez saw. Too professional for an avert display-nobody was playing with a personal weapon, or anything as Hollywood as that-yet their faces were like stone, only their eyes moving back and forth over the diagrams or dickering back and forth to the TV monitors. It must have been very hard on Homer Johnston, Ding thought. He'd been on the fucker when he shot the kid. Homer had kids. and he could have transported the subject into the next dimension as easily as blinking his eyes… But no, that would not have been smart, and they were paid to be smart. The men hadn't been ready for even an improvised assault, and anything that smacked of improvisation would only get more children killed. And that wasn't the mission, either. Then a phone rang. Bellow got it, hitting the speaker button.
"Yes?" the doctor said.
"We regret the incident with the child, but she was soon to die anyway. Now, when will our friends be released?"
"Paris hasn't gotten back to us yet," Bellow replied.
"Then, I regret to say, there will be another incident shortly."
"Look, Mr. One, I cannot force Paris to do anything. We are talking, negotiating with government officials, and they take time to reach decisions. Governments never move fast, do they?"
"Then I will help them. Tell Paris that unless the aircraft bringing our friends is ready for us to board it in one hour, we will kill a hostage, and then another every hour until our demands are met," the voice said, entirely without emotional emphasis.
"That is unreasonable. Listen to me: even if they brought all of them out of their prisons now, it would take at least two hours to get them here. Your wishes cannot make an airplane fly faster, can they?"
That generated a thoughtful pause. "Yes, that is true. Very well, we will commence the shooting of hostages in three hours from now… no, I will start the countdown on the hour. That gives you an additional twelve minutes. I will be generous. Do you understand?"
"Yes, you say that you will kill another child at twenty-two hundred hours, and another one every hour after that."
"Correct. Make sure that Paris understands." And the line went dead.
"Well?" Clark asked.
"John, you don't need me here for this. It's pretty damned clear that they'll do it. They killed the first one to show us who's the boss. They plan to succeed, and they don't care what it takes for them to do so. The concession he just made may be the last one we're going to get."
"What is that?" Esteban asked. He walked to the window to see. "Helicopter!"
"Oh?" Rene went there also. The windows were so small that he had to move the Basque aside. "Yes, I see the police have them. Large one," he added with a shrug. "This is not a surprise." But "Jose, get up to the roof with a radio, and keep us informed."
One of the other Basques nodded and headed for the fire stairwell. The elevator would have worked fine, but he didn't want to be inconvenienced by another power shutoff.
"Command, Rifle Two-One," Johnston called a minute later.
"Rifle Two-One, this is Six."
"I got a guy on the castle roof, one man, armed with what looks like a Uzi, and he's got a brick, too. Just one, nobody else is joining up at this time."
"Roger that, Rifle Two-One."
"This isn't the guy who whacked the kid," the sergeant added.
"Okay, good, thank you."
"Rifle Three has him, too… just walked aver to my side. He's circulating around… yeah, looking over the edge, looking down."
"John?" It was Major Covington.
"Yes, Peter?"
"We're not showing them enough."
"What do you mean?"
"Give them something to look at. Policemen, an inner perimeter. If they don't see something, they're going to wonder what's going on that they cannot see."
"Good idea," Noonan said.
Clark liked it. "Colonel?"
"Yes," Nuncio replied. He leaned over the table. "I propose two men, here, two more here… here… here."
"Yes, sir, please make that happen right away."
"Rene," Andre called from in front of a TV screen. He pointed. "Look."
There were two Guardia cops moving slowly and trying to be covert as they approached up Strada Espana to a place fifty meters from the castle. Rene nodded and picked up his radio. "Three!"
"Yes, One."
"Police approaching the castle. Keep an eye on them."
"I will do that, One," Esteban promised.
"Okay, they're using radios," Noonan said, checking his scanner. "Citizen-band walkie-talkies, regular commercial ones, set on channel sixteen. Pure vanilla."
"No names, just numbers?" Chavez asked.
"So far. Our point of contact calls himself One, and this guy is Three. Okay, does that tell us anything?"
"Radio games," Dr. Bellow said. "Right out of the playbook. They're trying to keep their identities secret from us, but that's also in the playbook." The two photo ID pictures had long since been sent to France for identification, but both the police and intelligence agencies had come up dry.
"Okay, will the French deal?"
