"Good. I'll call back when I have some news for you." Bellow punched the kill switch. "Good news. Different person, younger, not as sure of himself. I have something I can use on this one. He really is Catholic, or at least he thinks of himself that way. That means conscience and rules. I can work on this one," he concluded soberly but with confidence.
"But where is the other one?" Stanley asked. "Unless…"
"Huh?" Tawney asked.
"Unless he's not in there at all."
"Huh?" the doctor asked.
"Unless he's not bloody there. He called us before, but he hasn't talked to us in quite a while. Shouldn't he be doing so?"
Bellow nodded. "I would have expected that, yes."
"But Noonan has chopped the cell phones," Stanley pointed out. He switched an his tactical radio. "This is Command. Look around for someone trying to use a cellular telephone. We may have two groups of subjects here. Acknowledge."
"Command, this is Covington, roger."
"Fuck!" Malloy snarled in his circling helicopter.
"Take her down some?" Harrison asked.
The Marine shook his head. "No, up here they might not even notice us. Let's stay covert for a while."
"What the hell?" Chavez observed, looking at his father-in-law.
"Inside-outside?" John speculated.
Grady was at the point of losing his temper. He'd tried a total of seven times to make a call with his cell phone, only to find the same infuriating fast-busy response. He had a virtually perfect tactical situation, but lacked the ability to coordinate his teams. There they were, those Rainbow people, standing in a bunch not a hundred meters from the two Volvo trucks. This couldn't last, though. The local police would surely start securing the area soon. There were perhaps a hundred and fifty, perhaps as many as two hundred people now. standing in little knots within three hundred meters of the hospital. The time was right. The targets were there.
Noonan crested the hill and started driving down to where the team was, wondering what the hell he'd be able to do. Bugging the building, his usual job, meant getting close. But it was broad daylight, and getting close would be a mother of a task, probably beyond the range of possibility until nightfall.Well, at least he'd taken care of his primary function. He'd denied the enemy the chance to use cell phones-if they'd tried to, which he didn't know. He slowed the car for his approach, and saw Peter Covington in the distance conferring with his black-clad shooters.
Chavez and Clark were doing much the same thing, standing still a few yards from Clark's official car.
"The perimeter needs firming up," Ding said. Where had all these vehicles come from? Probably people who happened to be in the area when the shooting started. There was the usual goddamned TV van, its satellite dish erected, and what appeared to be a reporter speaking in front of a handheld Minicam. So, Chavez thought, now the danger to his family was a goddamned spectator sport.
Grady had to make a decision, and he had to make it now. If he wanted to achieve his goal and make his escape, it had to be now. His gun-containing parcel was sitting on the ground next to his rental car. He left it on the ground with Roddy Sands and walked to the farthest of the Volvo commercial trucks.
"Sean," a voice called from the cargo area, "the bloody phones don't work."
"I know. We begin in five minutes. Watch for the others, and then carry on as planned."
"Okay, Sean," the voice replied. To punctuate it, Grady heard the cocking of the weapons inside as he walked to the next, delivering the same message. Then the third. There were three men in each of the trucks. The canvas covers over the cargo areas had holes cut in them, like the battlements of a castle, and those inside had opened them slightly and were now looking at the soldiers less than a hundred meters away. Grady made his way back to his Jaguar. When he got there he checked his watch. He looked at Roddy Sands and nodded.
Team-2's truck was starting down the hill to the hospital. Noonan's car was directly in front of it now.
Popov was watching the whole area with his binoculars. A third military truck came into view. He looked at it and saw more men sitting in the back, probably reinforcements for the people already outside the hospital. He returned his attention to the area that already had soldiers. Closer examination showed… was that John Clark? he wondered. Standing away from the others. Well, if his wife were a hostage now, that made sense to let another-he had to have a second-in-command for his organization-command the operation. So, he'd just be standing there now, looking tense in his suit.
"Excuse me." Popov turned to see a reporter and a cameraman, and closed his eyes in a silent curse.
"Yes?"
"Could you give us your impressions of what is happening here? First of all, your name, and what causes you to be here."
