"Okay, I can talk to people about that, but they have to know where the bus is going to, so that the police can clear the roads for you," Bellow observed reasonably. It was just a matter of time now. Tim-it would have been useful to know if he'd been truthful in giving out his real name, though Bellow was confident that he had indeed done that-wasn't talking about killing, hadn't actually threatened it, hadn't given a deadline or tossed out a body yet. He wasn't a killer, at least not a murderer. He thought of himself as a soldier, and that was different from a criminal, to terrorists a very important difference. He didn't fear death, though he did fear failure, and he feared almost as much being remembered as a killer of the innocent. To kill soldiers was one thing. To murder ordinary women and children was something else. It was an old story for terrorists. The most vulnerable part of any person was his self-image. Those who cared what others thought of them, those who looked in mirrors when they shaved, those people could be worked. It was just a matter of time. They were different from the real fanatics. You could wear this sort down. "Oh, Tim?"
"Yes?"
"Could you do something for me?"
"What?"
"Could you let me make sure the hostages are okay? That's something I have to do to keep my boss happy. Can I come around to see?"
O'Neil hesitated.
"Tim, come on, okay? You have the things you have to do, and I have the things I have to do, okay? I'm a physician. I don't carry a gun or anything. You have nothing to be afraid of." Telling them that they had nothing to fear, and thus suggesting that they were unnecessarily afraid, was usually a good card to play. There followed the usual hesitation, confirming that they were indeed afraid-and that meant Tim was rational, and that was good news for Rainbow's psychiatrist."No, Tim, don't!" Peter Barry urged. "Give them nothing."
"But how will we get out of here, get the bus, if we don't cooperate on something?" O'Neil looked around at the other three. Sam Barry nodded. So did Dan McCorley.
"All right," O'Neil called. "Come back to us."
"Thank you," Bellow called. He looked at Vega, the senior soldier present.
"Watch your ass, doc," the first sergeant suggested. To go unarmed into the lair of armed bad guys was, he thought, not very bright. He'd never thought that the doc had such stuff in him.
"Always," Paul Bellow assured him. Then he took a deep breath and walked the ten feet to the corner, and turned, disappearing from the view of the Rainbow troopers.
It always struck Bellow as strange, to the point of being comical, that the difference between safety and danger was a distance of a few feet and the turning of one corner. Yet he looked up with genuine interest. He'd rarely met a criminal under these circumstances. So much the better that they were armed and he was not. They would need the comfortable feelings that came with the perception of power to balance the fact that, armed or not, they were in a cage from which there was no escape.
"You're hurt," Bellow said on seeing Timothy's face.
"It's nothing, just a few scratches."
"Why not have somebody work on it for you?"
"It's nothing," Tim O'Neil said again.
"Okay, it's your face," Bellow said, looking and counting four of them, all armed with the same sort of weapon, AKMS, his memory told him. Only then did he count the hostages. He recognized Sandy Clark. There were seven others, all very frightened, by the look of them, but that was to be expected. "So, what exactly do you want?"
"We want a bus, and we want it quickly," O'Neil replied.
"Okay, I can work on that, but it'll take time to get things organized, and we'll need something in return."
"What's that?" Timothy asked.
"Some hostages to be released," the psychiatrist answered.
"No, we only have eight."
"Look, Tim, when I deal with the people I have to go to-to get the bus you want, okay?-I have to offer them something, or why else should they give me anything to give you?" Bellow asked reasonably. "It's how the game is played, Tim. The game has rules. Come on, you know that. You trade some of what you have for some of what you want."
"So?"
"So, as a sign of good faith, you give me a couple hostages-women and kids, usually, because that looks better." Bellow looked again. Four women, four men. It would be good to get Sandy Clark out.
"And then?"
"And then I tell my superiors that you want a bus and that you've shown good faith. I have to represent you to them, right?"
"Ah, and you're on our side?" another man asked. Bellow looked and saw that he was a twin, with a brother standing only a few feet away. Twin terrorists. Wasn't that interesting?
