The Trophy Wife

by Diana Diamond

  There was no response. The only sound was the hiss of Rita’s breathing as she wondered if they might have gone away. Then the door exploded open, swinging freely until it slammed against the wall. But there was no one there. The open doorway was filled with blackness.

  “Where are you?” Rita screamed.

  The response was a dark-clad figure that sprung through the opening and tumbled into the room. He rolled into the shadows and came up on one knee with a stubby assault rifle aimed directly at Rita. Her scream pierced the air. Another form turned around the edge of the door and pointed a blinding light into her eyes. “Don’t move,” he warned, and then he stepped carefully into the room, aiming a pistol with his free hand.

  Rita’s hand started up to block the light from her eyes.

  “Don’t move!” the voice screamed. She froze like a statue. Then her wide eyes panned from one man to the other. They were dressed in black, with their pants tucked into boots. Each wore a helmet and a thick black vest.

  “Where is he?”

  Rita stuttered.

  “Where’s Mike? Where is he?”

  “Right here!” Mike pushed Emily into the kitchen doorway. Then he rose up behind her. The flashlight illuminated both their faces and then glistened off the pistol that was pressed into Emily’s ear.

  “Get that fuckin’ light out of my face,” he ordered. The officer saw Emily’s fear and lowered the light. “You can see I got the lady,” Mike said. “Who’s goin’ to kill her? You guys? Or me?”

  A third assault trooper bounded into the doorway.

  “Come on in,” Mike said. “Join the party.”

  The new arrival saw the situation and glanced at the two officers who were already in the room. Their weapons were poised, but their faces were raised from their sights. They had already decided not to fire.

  “Close the door,” Mike ordered. The new officer looked to the other two for directions. “Close it!” he screamed insanely, and the man reached behind him, found the doorknob, and swung the door closed.

  “Good.” Mike was beginning to feel the thrill of power. “Real good. Now, I want all of you to lay the guns on the floor and then push them away, under the coffee table.”

  “No way,” answered the one with the flashlight.

  “Then you better start usin’ them. Because at three, I’m goin’ to use this one.” He pushed the muzzle of his revolver harder against Emily’s face.

  “One…”

  “Okay!” The trooper with the flashlight bent over and carefully placed his pistol on the floor. His partner, still on one knee, slowly set down the rifle and then the third officer let his automatic pistol drop from his hand.

  “Under the table,” Mike ordered. Rita watched openmouthed as the black-clad figures obediently pushed the cache of weapons up against her toes.

  “You two,” Mike said, nodding at the two original invaders, “get flat out on the floor. Down on your faces.” They moved slowly to all fours and then stretched out on their bellies. “Spread eagle. Hands and feet out!” The two followed his instructions.

  “You get out of here,” Mike said to the third policeman. “Go back to your boss and tell him exactly what’s goin’ down in here. Anybody comes near this place, and your buddies’ brains get spread all over the rug. Then tell someone to call me. Someone high up, because there are things he’ll have to do for me if he wants these guys to stay alive.”

  “You’ll get yourselves killed,” the officer warned. His glance lingered on Rita.

  “That’s for sure,” Mike said, “because you’re not takin’ either of us alive. So you understand your choices. You either let us go, or all of us die together. Including your friends and this lady here.”

  The officer eased open the door, keeping his eyes on Mike, and then backed through the opening. Only when he was on the outside step did he turn and dash off into the blackness.

  “Get the guns,” Mike told Rita. He stuffed his own pistol into his belt, exchanging it for one of the assault rifles. He took one of the police automatics and slipped it into his pocket. Then he released his grip on Emily’s throat and pushed her down onto the sofa, keeping the assault rifle trained on her head.

  “Check out these two.” He nodded at the two men stretched out on the floor. “Careful. Go around behind them. Lift the vests and check their belts.” Rita removed a handcuff set from each of them and took the pistol that one of them was wearing at his back.

  The telephone rang. Rita looked expectantly at Mike.

  “Let it ring! We’re not ready to talk to them yet.” He raised his voice above the telephone’s interruption. “Both you guys put your hands behind your backs.”

  “Look, Mac …” one of the assault troops began.

  “Shut up! Behind your back! Now!”

  Their hands moved until Rita could pull them together and snap the handcuffs into position. “You’ll never make it,” the other officer warned.

  “Then neither will you guys” Mike smirked.

  The telephone stopped ringing. Rita looked even more frightened. “They hung up,” she said. “We should have answered.”

  “Fuck ’em! I might not answer the next time, either. Let them sweat a bit.”

  It was almost 2:00 A.M. when Andrew and Helen arrived on the scene. The negotiations had already begun, and Lieutenant Borelli pulled the two of them into the industrial building on the next street that he was using as his command post. Together, they peered out of the darkened second-floor windows at the blank shape of the house.

  “I have two men trapped in there,” Borelli said, his tone suggesting that Hogan and Restivo might be responsible for their situation.

  “I’m sorry,” Hogan answered. “I know I’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

  The lieutenant put aside some of his hostility and took on the tone of a professional. “We’ve been talking with him on the phone. There’s a negotiator on the line with him right now. But we’re running out of time.”

  Hogan’s expression changed to a question.

  Borelli went on. “He wants safe passage out of the neighborhood and a one-car escort to the airport. From there he wants a plane.”

  “What for?” Hogan asked. “He’s got to know that someone will be waiting for him wherever he lands.”

  ’That’s what the negotiator is trying to sell him. But this guy isn’t making a lot of sense. He’s enjoying the attention. We’ve got one hour to agree and to tell him that his plane is waiting.”

  “Or what?” Hogan asked.

  “He shoots one of my men and has the other roll the body down the front steps. Then we get another hour until he shoots the other officer and tries to fight his way out. He’ll be using your lady as a shield.”

  Andrew nodded. It was a situation he had been in many times himself. Rita and Mike were finished and they probably knew it. But they also knew that they would be facing life in prison and they weren’t going to let that happen.

  Just as certainly, there was no way the State Troopers were going to give them an escort to anywhere. The whole purpose of the standoff was to keep them from hurting anyone else.

  “What’s the plan?” Helen asked, hoping that the cooling of Borelli’s earlier rage applied to her, as well.

  “We’re going to agree, provided they leave both of our men in the house. We’ll tell them that if either one is hurt, there will be no plane. Then we’ll take him when he comes out in his car.”

  “What about Emily Childs?” Hogan asked.

  “We won’t shoot first, except to take out his tires. Maybe when it’s obvious that he’s not going anywhere, he’ll decide that there’s no point in getting him and his girlfriend killed. Because we’ll make it clear, if he shoots the lady anywhere along the way, then we start shooting.”

  It was the same decision that Hogan would have made himself. Assure the safety of his officers first, and then try to save the hostage. He also agreed with stopping the car as soon as it cleared the house. Ther
e was no point in trailing them out to the airport. Then the showdown would have to happen when they tried to board the plane. And there was absolutely no sense in letting them get on the plane. All that did was move the showdown to another city. The fact was that at some point, Rita and Mike would have to decide if they really would rather die. If they did, nothing could save Emily.

  “Can I help?” Hogan asked.

  “Not now,” Borelli answered. “You and your friend have helped enough.”

  Mike stood in the kitchen doorway, tugging the telephone cord to its full length. He had the assault rifle at his hip, panning in the general direction of the two officers lying on the living room floor. Rita was sitting across from Emily, half aiming a pistol in her general direction.

  “One car,” Mike was saying, “with just one cop inside. I don’t want to see another cop car around here. In fact, you better make damn sure there aren’t police cars anywhere along our route.” He listened for a few moments. Then he snapped, “I don’t give a fuck about other towns and other jurisdictions. You get ahold the other jurisdictions and tell them no cars along the route. If you can’t do that, then put someone on the line who can.”

  His voice was spirited, almost cheerful. Mike was enjoying the power. He had the whole state of New Jersey out there begging him to come to terms.

  They had started with assurances that he wasn’t actually a kidnapper. Someone else had taken the woman by force. Sure, he was in trouble, but it was the kind of trouble he might be able to get out of, if he didn’t make things worse. Give up the two officers right away. Everyone understood that he had taken them in a moment of panic. And then negotiate the release of the lady. Of course, they would have to take him and Rita in. But they would have an attorney appointed within the hour.

  Mike mocked those offers. The guys in the black suits who had charged into the house with assault weapons didn’t look like lawyers. He wanted a car to the airport and then he wanted a plane.

  Each negotiator claimed not to have the authority to give in to his demands and Mike kept asking for someone who did. They kept going to higher and higher officials and, one by one, he kept telling them to fuck off. Maybe he should demand to speak to the governor.

  “He’s going to get us all killed,” Emily repeated to Rita. She had been explaining the scenario ever since Mike had answered the phone. The three of them would walk outside with her in the front as a human shield. Once they were away from die front steps, she was going to turn on Mike, kicking at him until she broke free. Then she would run to the police. Whether she got free or not, Mike would have to kill her because there was no way she was going to get into his car. And once he did, then Rita and Mike would be standing in the middle of an army of troopers, all of them armed and mad enough to fire. “You don’t have to get shot to pieces,” Emily whispered. “All he has to do is tell them you’re coming out without your guns. Then they can’t fire at you. They have to arrest you. And I’ll tell them, I swear to you, I’ll tell them how you tried to help me.”

  Rita stood up and looked at Mike, who was smiling as he listened to the pleading over the telephone. “This isn’t going to work,” she suddenly announced.

  He snarled at her. Then he yelled into the phone, “No! No! No more time. I told you what I want and when I want it. You have five more minutes. Then I kill one of these guys. Maybe that’s what it’s goin’ to take to get through to you.” He backed into the kitchen for the length of time it took him to hang up the phone. Then he returned to the living room and walked around behind the two prone police officers. “Doesn’t sound like your buddies out there are takin’ me seriously. So who’s it goin’ to be? Which one of you guys wants to be first?”

  Angela’s plane had left Heathrow just before midnight, in time to get London’s bankers to Zurich before the Swiss banks opened. Despite the hour the plane was crowded. Apparently the English were very appreciative of the Swiss financiers’ legendary discretion.

  She had landed in London early in the morning, checked into a business suite, and connected to her office computer over one of the bank’s leased circuits. In the early afternoon—early morning in New York—she had watched Walter’s transaction, transferring funds to Fassen Bank. Instantly, she had sent the recorded phone message that would free Emily. Then she had freshened up, and gone back to the terminal for her Zurich flight. She had slept comfortably in her First Class seat until the wheels went down on final approach.

  As soon as she came through the door she saw the lights of Zurich, still glowing even though the sky was beginning to fill with morning light. Close by, there were the garish logos of global companies, flashing in neon at the tops of the buildings. Farther off, she could see the streetlights of the old city, with the occasional flicker of automobile traffic. It was less than spectacular. Zurich insisted on being unobtrusive. There was nothing dramatic about the city until daylight brought the background of jagged mountains into view.

  A taxi was waiting at the head of the queue with the passenger door open. Angela slid in, pulling her bag into the seat after her. She gave the name of a modest hotel in the banking district that was even more discreet than the banks. She knew that she would attract very little attention. Businessmen using the hotel frequently arranged for companions to join them in their rooms. She had stayed there once herself and had been approached in the bar by an Englishman who thought she had been sent over by the service.

  At the desk, she signed in as Susan Schwartz and smiled at the clerk when he tried to compare her with the passport photo. Then she refused the services of the bellman and saw herself to her room.

  The morning sun was pouring in through the starched curtains. Angela tossed her bag on the bed and went to the window. Traffic was building in the streets and there was a crowd pouring out through the doors of the streetcar at the corner. There wouldn’t be any time for her to catch up on her sleep. Hardly enough time to take a shower. The banks would be opening soon and she wanted to be in and out of Fassen Bank as quickly as she could. She checked her watch and calculated that it was two in the morning back in New York. By now, Emily Childs had been dropped off in a school parking lot. Within a few hours, her safety would be assured. Angela knew that once Emily was safe, someone would have to think about sending a message to stop the transfer of funds that Walter had initiated. She wanted to have the money out the door and into another bank before that message came.

  A minute before his deadline, Mike heard the telephone ring. He broke into a smile. “I hope it’s for you,” he said toward the two officers. “Otherwise, your time is up!”

  He backed into the kitchen and returned with the handset “Yeah,” he said. Rita watched his face darken and felt certain that the police outside were calling his bluff. But then one corner of his mouth curled up into a sneer. “Yeah,” he said again. “Only not in fifteen minutes. Now! I want everyone out of that buildin’, and I want all the police cars out of here. Just one car, out in the street, clear of the driveway. And one driver. I’m going to take a long look around and if those two jerks are still standing across the street, or if one of those mothers is still in the backyard, then the whole thing is off. Each of your guys gets it in the back of the head. And then me and the lady here take our chances.”

  He listened for a few seconds and enjoyed what he was hearing. “Okay,” he finally said. “You have five minutes to clear everyone. Make sure you get ’em all. You don’t want to make any mistakes.”

  Mike let the phone fall to the floor. “Well, what do you know,” he announced proudly to everyone. “We’re getting a police escort to the airport.”

  They waited quietly, listening to the sounds outside the house. Voices called to one another. Auto engines burst into life, followed by transmission sounds and the squeal of turning tires. Then there was silence, broken only by the sounds of their breathing. The captured officers listened with trained ears, trying to identify what was taking place outside. Rita looked about carefully, as if the enemy
might already be in the house. Mike checked and rechecked the position of the pistols in his belt and pocket and then wiped the sweat from his palms down the legs of his trousers. Emily sat at the edge of the sofa, tense as if waiting to spring. She didn’t care about the police outside. All her energies were focused on the man who had delighted in torturing her. No matter what anyone else did, she would make certain that he didn’t get out alive.

  Headlights flared in the front window curtains and Rita crossed the room to look out. “It’s the police car,” she said, her voice fearful of the ordeal that it represented. The moment had come. She would be stepping out into a no-man’s-land.

  “Pull the curtain,” Mike told her. “Look around. Tell me if you see anybody.”

  She looked carefully, touching her forehead to the glass so that she could widen her field of vision. “Nothing out there,” she said. She kept looking. “Just the police car. Nothing else.”

  “How about the factory?”

  She went to the side window. “The cars are gone. The lights are out. But I can’t tell if anyone’s there. It’s too dark.”

  He thought. There were probably people still in the second floor windows. Maybe a sharpshooter. Sure. If they caught him out in the open, it would make sense to take him out. But he could handle that. He had a bulletproof shield. As long as he kept close to the lady, no one would dare fire.

  “Okay, now check out back. There were two of them back against the fence. Take that flashlight and look out the window. All along the bottom of the fence.”

  Rita went close to the prone policeman and lifted the lamp from the floor. She stepped over their bodies on her way to the back of the house. When she snapped on the light, she was startled by its brilliance. Aimed through a back window, it illuminated half the yard and let her see even the spaces between the fence planking. She panned slowly. There was no one there. Then she went to the kitchen window and moved the light back and forth across the litter-strewn lot between the house and the next cluster of buildings.