"How do I know. . .?"
"You have my word."
"How do I know you'll come in here to me?"
"I said I would. I gave you my word."
"And are you a woman of your word?"
"I try to be."
Which meant she would break her word if he made the slightest move to harm either her or the little girl. She was unarmed . . .
That's what we promise. No guns, no one gets hurt. . .
. . . but there were backup cops to her right, and all she had to do was signal for them to storm the door. She hoped the old man would not do anything foolish.
"So let her come out now, okay?" she said.
"Pamela?" he said. And then, in Spanish, "Do you want to go outside now, queridal Do you want to leave Grandpa here with the nice lady?"
Pamela nodded gravely. Too terrified to cry or to show relief. She knew this was her grandfather, but she also knew this was a gun. It was difficult for her to reconcile the two. She nodded. Yes, I want to go outside. Please let me go outside, Grandpa.
"Go on then," he said in English, and looked to Eileen for approval.
Eileen nodded.
"Come on, sweetheart," she said, and extended her arms to the little girl. "Come on out here before your grandfather changes his mind."
Pamela scrambled off his lap and out into the hall. Eileen clasped her into her arms, swung her around, and planted her securely in the arms of an Emergency Service cop, who swooped her up and hurried off down the hall with her. Now there was only the old man and his gun.
No bargaining power anymore. If they wanted to blow him away, they could do so without any fear that a hostage was at risk. But that wasn't the name of the game. And she had given him her word.
"Now put down the gun," she said.
He had swung the shotgun toward the opening in the door. It sat in his lap, his finger still inside the trigger guard, the barrels angled up toward Eileen's head. From where he was sitting, he could not see the policemen in the hallway to her right. But he knew someone had taken the girl, he knew she had passed the girl on to someone, he knew she was not alone.
"Who's out there with you?" he asked.
"Policemen," she said. "Do you want to put down the gun, Mr Valdez?"
"Do they have guns, these policemen?"
"Yes."
The truth. Tell him the truth.
"If I put down the gun, how do I know they won't shoot me?"
"I promise you we won't hurt you."
A slip.
We.
Identifying herself as a cop.
But he hadn't caught it.
Or had he?
"I promise you none of the policemen out here will hurt you."
Correcting it. Or compounding it. Which? How smart was he? Blue eyes studying her now, searching her face. Could he trust her?
"How do I know they won't shoot me. I made . . ."
"Because I…"
". . . a lot of trouble for everybody," he said.
"Yes, you did. But I promise they won't shoot you. No one will hurt you if you put down the gun. I promise you. I give you my word."
"Will they forget the trouble I made for everybody?"
She could not promise him this. There'd be the weapons charge, that wasn't a toy gun in there. And God knew what other charges there'd be on top of that. He wouldn't walk away from this clean, that wasn't the way it worked, the promises didn't extend that far. He was only a senile old man, true, who thought he was still six years old and playing doctor under the coconut palms - but he'd broken the law, broken several laws, in fact, and these were policemen here, sworn to uphold those laws.
"They'll help you," she said. "They'll try to help you."
Which was true. Psychiatric observation, therapy, the works, whatever seemed indicated.
But the shotgun was still in his lap, angled up at her.
"Come on," she said, "let's put down the gun, okay?"
"Tell them I want to see them. The policemen in the hall."
"I don't have any authority to tell policemen what to do."
"Ask them," he said. "Do you have authority to ask them?"
The smile on his face again.
Was he toying with her?
"He wants to see who's out here," she shouted down the hall to Brady, who was standing behind four Emergency Service cops with riot guns in their hands and sidearms strapped to their waists. The ES cops were all wearing ceramic vests. So what do you say, Inspector? she thought. Want to come in the water?
That's what we promise. No guns, no one gets hurt.
Except that now it was show time.
"Let him see you," Brady said to the ES men.
They lumbered down the hall in their heavy vests, toting their heavy guns, lining up against the wall behind Eileen, where the old man could see them.
"Are there any others?" he asked.
"Yes, but not right here," she said. "All the way down the hall."
"Tell them to put down their guns."
"I can't give them orders," Eileen said.
"Tell the other one. The one you were talking to."
Eileen nodded, turned away from the door, and shouted, "Inspector Brady!"
"Yes?"
"He wants them to put down their guns."
Silence.
"Or I'll shoot you," the old man said.
"Or he'll shoot me," she called to Brady, and then smiled and said to the old man, "You wouldn't do that, would you?"
"Yes, I would," he said, returning the smile.
"He means it," she shouted down the hall.
