Hostage

by Robert Crais

  “We’re going to get out of here.”

  She seemed confused, her eyes flicking to the door, then back to him.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Not with them. I don’t mean with Dennis and Mars. I’m taking you and your brother. We’re going to leave them here.”

  The marks on his face registered with her for the first time, and Kevin felt himself flush.

  “What happened to you?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Dennis isn’t going to give up. He’s going to stay here no matter what, but we’re not.”

  “They’re letting us leave?”

  “Mars and Dennis don’t know I’m doing this. They would stop us, so we have to be careful, but we’re getting out of here and they can do what they want.”

  Uncertainty played across her face. She glanced at the door again.

  Kevin said, “Do you want to go or not? I’m offering you a way out of here.”

  “I can’t go without Thomas.”

  “I know that. All three of us will go, but we have to be careful and move fast. Now do you want to go or not?”

  “I want to go!”

  “Stay here and pretend like nothing’s happening. I’ll get Thomas and come back for you. When the three of us are together, we’ll go straight downstairs and out the front door. Do you have a white pillowcase?”

  “We’re going to walk out the door? Just like that?”

  “Yes! We need a white flag or something so the cops don’t shoot us.”

  He could tell she was scared, but excited, too, anxious to get out of the house.

  “All right, okay. I have a pillowcase.”

  “Get it while I’m getting your brother. When I get back, don’t say a word. Just follow me and try to be quiet, but be ready to move. We’re going to walk fast.”

  She nodded, her head bouncing.

  “I will.”

  Kevin eased the door open and peered into the hall. Dim light glowed at the stairwell, coming from below. The hall seemed darker than before, masked in a blackness that made him wish for a flashlight. He heard voices and grew even more worried. If Mars and Kevin were in the office, they would see the three of them coming down the stairs.

  Kevin pulled the door shut behind him and crept back along the hall to the stairwell, listening. Twice the hall creaked, making Kevin cringe. When he reached the top of the stairs, he listened harder, then felt a well of relief. The voices were coming from the television.

  He turned back toward the boy’s room, telling himself to hurry, to do this quickly without noise, to do it now or else the moment would pass and he would never do it; he would be trapped in this house with Dennis and Mars, and he would die. Kevin was so frightened that it was difficult to think. The boy, the girl, out. He repeated it to himself like a chant.

  Something moved in the darkness ahead of him.

  Kevin froze, his senses straining, his heart pounding. The girl must have come out of her room. He whispered.

  “Stay in your room.”

  A black shadow drifted against the darkness outside her door, but the shadow did not answer. Kevin strained to see into the bottomless grave of the hall, but saw nothing.

  The floor creaked behind him. Kevin spun around.

  Mars stood inches away, backlit by the light from the stairs. Kevin jerked backward. They were screwed unless he could keep Mars away from the front door. He thought of the security room, as far from the front door as it was possible to get in this house.

  “Jesus, Mars, you scared the shit out of me. I was looking for you. Dennis wants you to watch those monitors back in the bedroom.”

  Mars stepped closer, his pale face empty.

  “I heard you with the girl, Kevin. You’re going to leave.”

  Kevin stepped back. Mars followed him, staying uncomfortably close.

  “That’s bullshit, Mars. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t ruin a good thing, Kevin. You’ll regret it later.”

  Kevin felt a stab of anger that shook him. Fuck it. Mars had heard; let him hear it all. Kevin stopped backing up.

  “Then you can stay! I’ve had enough of this, Mars. We’re trapped. It’s over! If we stay, the cops will kill us. Don’t you get that?”

  Mars stared down at him, his pasty face thoughtful. Then he stepped aside.

  “I get it, Kevin. If you want to go, go.”

  Kevin waited for more, thinking that Mars was upset or angry, or would drag him downstairs to Dennis, but Mars only raised his hand, offering the way to the stairs. His voice soft and encouraging.

  “Go.”

  Kevin glanced toward Thomas’s room.

  “I’m going to take these kids.” Mars nodded.

  “That’s okay. Go.”

  Kevin stared up at Mars, then turned and stepped into the darkness.

  TALLEY

  After Talley and Jones had spoken with Martin, Jones moved his two vans to the mouth of the cul-de-sac. Talley returned to his car, where he sat by himself, watching the two vans. Jones and one of his men, a blond guy with a crew cut and wire-rimmed glasses, left the vans to scout the perimeter.

  Talley felt like a traitor and a coward. He had returned to his car so that he could avoid the Sheriffs and his own men. When he and Jones were in the command van with Martin, he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. He let Jones do the talking.

  When Jones and his man disappeared into the cul-de-sac, the street was still.

  Martin climbed down from the command van, saw Talley in his car, and walked over. She had taken off the flak vest and all the crap SWAT cops clip to themselves, and was wearing only the black fatigues and a cap. The cap read BOSS. Talley watched her approach, hoping that she would continue into Mrs. Peña’s, but she came to his side of the car.

  Martin stopped a few feet away, took out a pack of cigarettes, and offered one to Talley.

  “Don’t smoke.”

  Martin lit up without a word. She drew the smoke in deep, then blew a plume that gassed into the night air like a shroud of fog. Talley didn’t know many SWAT cops who smoked. Bad for the wind.

  When she spoke, her voice was calm and reasonable.

  “You gonna tell me what’s going on?”

  Talley watched the smoke.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not stupid.”

  Talley didn’t answer.

  “All the phone calls. That scene in the ambulance between you and the doctor, wanting him to wake Smith; I thought you were going to shoot the guy. Whatever you were talking about with that kid, then charging off to the hospital. I had my I.O. call over there, Talley; if someone phoned in a death threat, it’s news to everyone else out here, including the people back at your office.”

  She drew more smoke, then appraised him.

  “Now we got the FBI with this bullshit about Smith being in witness protection. What’s going on, Chief? Who is Walter Smith?”

  Talley glanced over. Her eyes were steady and cool, meeting his without guile. He liked her measured attitude, and her direct manner. He thought he would probably like her, given the time for it; she was probably a pretty good cop. The weight of the day suddenly pressed down on him with an intensity that left him numb. There were too many things to control and too many lies to tell. It was all too complicated, and he couldn’t afford to mess this up. Like a juggler with a hundred balls in the air, he was going to drop one sooner or later. A ball would hit the ground and someone would die. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t fail Amanda and Jane or the kids in that house or even Walter Smith.

  “I need help.”

  “That’s why we rolled out, Chief.”

  “Do you know the name Sonny Benza?”

  She searched his face, Talley thinking that she couldn’t place the name, but then she did.

  “That’s the mob guy, right?”

  “Smith works for him. Smith has something in that house that can put Benza away, and Benza wan
ts it.”

  “Jesus.”

  Talley looked at her, and felt his eyes go wet.

  “He has my wife and daughter.”

  Martin looked away.

  Talley told her about the disks, the Watchman, and Jones. He told her how he had played it, and how he intended to play it. She listened without question or comment until he finished, then she crushed her cigarette beneath her heel and stared at the two vans where Jones’s people waited.

  “You have to bring this to the Bureau.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Turn it over to Organized Crime. With what you have they could move on Benza right now, pull him straight out of bed and hang him by his thumbs. We breach into that house, get these disks he wants, and that’s all she wrote. That’s how you save your family.”

  “It’s not your family.”

  She considered the dead cigarette, and sighed.

  “No, I guess not.”

  “All I have is a voice on a phone, Martin. I don’t know where they are, I don’t know who has them. Benza has people out here; he knows what we’re doing. He could make Jane and Amanda vanish even before we read him his rights, and what do I have? Three men I can’t identify in cars I can’t identify, and Jones over there. I don’t give a shit about making a case. I just want my family.”

  Martin stared at the two vans, and sighed again. It was getting to be a long night for all of them.

  “I am not going to let murder happen out here, Talley. I can’t do that.”

  “Me neither. Jesus.”

  “Then what are you going to do?”

  “I can’t let those disks go into evidence. They’re the only leverage I have.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Help me. Keep it between us, but help me get those disks. I can’t let Jones go into that house alone.”

  Talley watched her, hoping that she would go along. He couldn’t stop her from going upstairs. All he could do was trust her. She looked back at him, and nodded.

  “I’ll do what I can. You keep me informed, Talley. I don’t want to get shot in the back. I can’t let my people get hurt, either.”

  Talley felt better, the load lessened because now she helped bear it.

  “All I need are those damned disks. I get those disks, and then I’ll have something to trade.”

  She considered him, then put her cigarettes back into her jumpsuit. Talley knew what she was going to say before she said it.

  “You need more than that. You know too much for Benza to leave you alive. You realize that, don’t you? You, your family, Smith; he can’t leave any of you alive. What are you going to do about that?”

  “I’ll deal with it when I have the disks.”

  Talley’s cell phone rang, loud in the silence of the night. Martin jumped.

  “Shit.”

  Talley thought it might be Thomas, but it was Mikkelson, sounding far away and strange.

  “Chief, Dreyer and I are still out here at Krupchek’s trailer with detectives from the Sheriff’s Bureau. We got some stuff to report.”

  Talley had forgotten about Mikkelson and Dreyer. It took a moment for him to gather his thoughts.

  “Go, Mikkelson.”

  “Krupchek isn’t Krupchek. His real name is Alvin Marshall Bonnier. His mother’s head is in the freezer.”

  PART FOUR

  • • •

  TACTICS

  23

  • • •

  Saturday, 12:52 A.M.

  TALLEY

  Alvin Marshall Bonnier, age twenty-seven, also known as Mars Krupchek, was wanted in connection with four counts of homicide in Tigard, Oregon. The local authorities theorized the following chain of events based on witness interviews and forensic evidence: Bonnier, who lived alone with his mother at the time of the murders, abducted and raped his next-door neighbor, Helene Getty, age seventeen, and disposed of her body in a wooded streambed near their homes. She had been strangled and repeatedly stabbed in the chest, abdomen, and vaginal area. Mrs. Bonnier, an invalid suffering from crippling arthritis, subsequently discovered Getty’s bloodstained panties and left Reebok tennis shoe, also splattered with blood, in her son’s bedroom. She confronted her son, at which time Alvin stabbed his mother to death in the living room, then carried her body to the bathroom, where he dismembered it. Bonnier wrapped the limbs and torso in newspapers and plastic trash bags, then buried these remains in Mrs. Bonnier’s rose bed. Neighbors stated that when the boy was young, Mrs. Bonnier made switches from the thorny rose branches with which she beat the boy. Bonnier kept his mother’s head in the refrigerator, but transferred the head to the trunk of the family car several days later. With his mother’s head along for company, he befriended sixteen-year-old Stephen Stilwell at a local shopping mall and enticed the boy to take a drive, probably offering cigarettes and beer. Instead, Bonnier drove Stilwell to a nearby abandoned drive-in movie theater, where he sodomized the boy, then stabbed him repeatedly. He placed Stilwell in the trunk with his mother’s head, then drove to the same area where he had disposed of Helene Getty’s body. Upon arrival at that location, he discovered that Stilwell was still alive, whereupon he cut the young man’s throat, mutilated his genitals, and abandoned the body without attempting to conceal it. Witnesses at the shopping mall were able to provide a description of Bonnier and his automobile. Twelve days later, an eighteen-year-old high school senior named Anita Brooks hitched a ride with Bonnier after missing her bus. Instead of bringing her to school, Bonnier drove to a nearby lake, where he strangled her before branding the victim’s breasts and vagina with her own cigarettes. Evidence gathered at the scene indicated that he had placed his mother’s head on a nearby picnic table, probably so that she could watch the mutilation. Bonnier immediately returned home, parked his car in its usual spot, then, so far as the police know, departed the area. Authorities discovered Anita Brooks’s body first. Alvin Marshall Bonnier was not identified as the suspect until two days later when neighbors investigated the foul smell coming from the Bonnier residence and summoned the police, who located his mother’s body between the roses. Stilwell and Getty were found within the following week.

  Talley listened to Mikkelson’s recitation of the facts with a growing sense of urgency that Martin read in his expression.

  “What in hell is happening?”

  Talley raised his hand, telling her to wait.

  “Mikki, they’re positive that Bonnier and Krupchek are the same person?”

  “That’s affirm, Chief. The palm print he left in Kim’s matched dead on, and the Bureau guys brought a copy of the warrants fax from Oregon. I saw the photo. It’s Krupchek.”

  “What’s happening out there now?”

  “The VICAP hit automatically notified the FBI. The detectives here have locked down the scene to wait for a team from the LA field office.”

  Talley checked his watch.

  “What’s their ETA?”

  “I dunno. You want me to check?”

  “Yeah.”

  Talley filled in Martin while he waited for Mikkelson. As Martin listened, her face grew closed and uncertain, but Mikkelson was back on the line before she could respond.

  “Chief?”

  “Go, Mikki.”

  “The Feds should be here within a couple of hours. You want us to wait for them or come back to York?”

  Talley told her to come back, then snapped the phone shut. He ran his hand across his head and stared toward the cul-de-sac.

  “This is fucking great. I’ve got the mafia outside and fucking Freddy Krueger in the house.” Martin watched him calmly.

  “This changes things.”

  “I know it changes things, Captain! I’m trying to save my wife and daughter, but I have to get those kids out of that house.”

  “Because of Krupchek? They’ve been in there all day with him, Talley. Another few hours won’t matter.”

  “It matters. All of this matters.”

  Talley left Mart
in at the command van and found Jones briefing his people at their vans. Jones saw Talley approaching, and separated from the others. Talley noted that Jones appeared apprehensive, resting a hand on the MP5 slung from his shoulder.

  “What’s up, Chief?”

  “We have a problem. One of the three subjects in the house isn’t who we thought. Krupchek. His true name is Alvin Marshall Bonnier. He’s wanted for multiple homicides in Oregon.”

  Jones smiled tightly, like Talley was making an unfunny joke.

  “You’re shittin’ me.”

  “You’re going to be swimmin’ in shit when you hear this: The real FBI are on their way. This isn’t bullshit, Jones or whatever your name is. The Sheriffs pulled a palm print from the minimart these assholes robbed. They got a VICAP hit. You know what that is?”

  Jones wasn’t smiling anymore, but he didn’t look concerned, either.

  “I know.”

  Talley explained that detectives from the Sheriff’s Homicide Bureau were presently at Krupchek’s home awaiting the arrival of FBI agents from the LA field office.

  “They’ll visit that house, then they’ll come here, and they won’t leave. By morning, this place is going to be covered with FBI, including a real FBI SWAT team.”

  “We’ll be gone by then. We’re breaching the house as soon as I hear back from the man.”

  “I want to go in now.”

  Jones shook his head.

  “Not until I get the call.”

  Talley couldn’t tell if Jones was suspicious or simply didn’t understand.

  “Listen to me. It’s different now. This isn’t just three turds holding a family hostage anymore. Those kids are in there with a lunatic.”

  “It’ll be fine, Talley.”

  “We’re talking about a man wanted for multiple homicide, Jones. He cut off his own mother’s head and keeps it in the freezer.”

  “I don’t give a shit.”

  “He’s psychotic. Psychotics decompensate in stressful situations, and this guy has been in a pressure cooker all day. If that happens, he might do anything.”

  Jones was unmoved.

  “We’ll breach when I get the call. It won’t be long.”