She could hear the subtle rhythm of the chant under the steady roar of the police chopper circling overhead. Sonny and Diz were deep inside the room now, whispering, Sonny with the nine-millimeter pointed at her head where she sat in silhouette against the glare of the lights. Dolly figured they were talking about killing her. She knew they were crazy enough to kill her. Somehow, she didn't seem to care anymore.
"Mr Whittaker?"
The redhead. Out there in the bushes again, some people never gave up. Imagine her cutting off all her hair. Maybe she was crazy, too. Maybe the whole world was crazy except Dolly herself, who would be dead in five, ten minutes, the way she figured it, which would probably be an easier life after all was said and done.
"Mr Whittaker? It's me again. Eil…"
"They can't hear you," Dolly said.
"What?"
"They can't hear you," she repeated. "The chopper's too loud."
"Go back and tell Mr Whittaker I have to talk to him."
"He'll shoot me if I move from this window."
"Just tell him we have to talk some more."
"I can't."
Eileen reached for her walkie-talkie.
"Inspector?" she said.
"Here," Brady said.
"Lose the goddamn chopper, I can't hear myself think."
"Ten-four," he said.
From where Wade worked with the bolt cutter, he could hear the chopper moving off, the steady clatter of its blades succumbing to the chant that rose now as if to call the aircraft back, insistent voices reaching to the blackness of the sky overhead, "No More Jogger Justice! No More Jogger Justice!"
"Dumb assholes," he said, and closed the jaws of the cutter onto the steel shackle of the padlock. The steel snapped. He tossed the cutter aside and yanked the lock free of its hasp. In three seconds flat, Carella had both cellar doors raised and was starting down the steps, Wade behind him. The sound of the chopper was all but gone now. There was only the sound of the chanting.
It was pitch-black in the cellar.
There was the smell of coal and the smell of dust.
They figured the steps were straight ahead and slightly to their left.
They dared not turn on a light.
"Where's it going?" Sonny asked.
"Shut up," Whittaker said.
"It's leaviri, man, can't you hear it?"
"I hear it, shut up," Whittaker said, and went to the window. "Red!" he yelled. "The hell are you?"
"Right here," she said.
"Where? Stan' up so I can see you."
"Nope," she said.
"Whutchoo mean nopei You want me to . . ."
"Mr Whittaker, it's time we talked turkey here. You know there's a …"
"Don't you tell me whut I gotta talk, woman! I'm the one got the girl in here. You ain't got. . ."
"Okay, you want to stay in there forever with her? Is that what you want? Or do you want to settle this thing, get on your way to the airport, which is it? The chopper's here, I got the damn chopper for you, so how about lending me a hand here? I've been busting my ass for you, Mr Whittaker . . ."
She heard him chuckling.
"Yeah, very funny," she said. "And you're making me look like a fool in front of my boss. Do you want that chopper to land, or do you want to keep me running back and forth all night? I've got the walkie-talkie right here, look at it," she said, and held her hand up over her head, over the porch deck so he could see her hand and the walkie-talkie sticking up out of the bushes. "Just tell me what you want and I'll call him. I'm trying to facilitate this operation, I'm trying to get you on that chopper and the girl outside that house without anybody getting hurt. So will you help me do that, Mr Whittaker? I'm trying my best here, really, I am. All I need is a little help from you."
There was a deep silence inside there.
At last, he said, "Okay, here's the deal."
They had found the cellar steps.
The walkie-talkie volume control was at its lowest setting, and they were listening to what Eileen was relaying back to the inspector. The way they understood the deal, the chopper would land in the vacant lot on the left-hand side of the house, some fifty feet from what was marked on the floor plan as the kitchen porch. The pilot of the helicopter would be alone, and he would step out of the aircraft and down onto the ground and raise his hands above his head before they came out of the house. Whittaker would come out of the house first, with Sonny remaining behind in the kitchen entry, his pistol to the girl's head. When Whittaker was safely behind the pilot, the muzzle of the AK-47 angled up against the pilot's neck, he would signal for Sonny to let the girl loose. As the girl began her run back to the ES truck, Eileen would be waiting to lead her in. By that time, Sonny should have reached the helicopter. If anyone tried to harm Sonny as he ran over from the house, Whittaker would kill the pilot.
"Sounds to me like they're making an exchange," Wade whispered. "The girl for the pilot."
"They don't make exchanges," Carella said. "That's one of their rules."
"Then what does it sound like to you?"
"It sounds like an exchange," Carella said. "But the pilot is a cop."
"Does that make it okay to kill him?"
"No, but. . ."
