The Negotiator

by Chris Taylor

  Threading his gun belt through the loops on his overalls, he checked that his sidearm was primed and loaded. Not that he’d be using it at the scene. It was standard operating procedure to hand in his gun to the supervisor at the scene. It was the intention of the negotiator to build a rapport with the subject and gain their trust. A sidearm, in full view of the subject, tended to jeopardize those kinds of efforts.

  Banging the metal door of his locker shut, he made his way out to the squad room. Giving Redding a somber wave, he headed downstairs to meet Tom.

  * * *

  Andy saw the mob of people gathered around the front of the Nurses’ residence and grimaced. He counted half a dozen uniforms doing their best to keep the crowd at bay, but the officers seemed to be losing the battle as curious onlookers pushed closer and closer, seeking a better view of the scene unfolding above them.

  He didn’t know what it was about events like this that turned ordinary people into macabre spectators, where they seemed to get some sort of almost sick excitement by watching the unfolding drama. It never failed to stir his anger. A man’s life was in danger. It wasn’t a scene from a trashy Hollywood movie. It was real. One wrong move, one wrong word and it could all be over.

  “Andy, over here.” Tom beckoned him toward a uniformed officer. Stepping over the blue-and-white police tape that had been used to cordon off the area, he walked to where Tom and the other three negotiators had halted at the front of the building.

  “Andy, this is Senior Sergeant Harry Matthews. He’s stationed at St Leonards. Harry was the first on the scene.”

  The sergeant’s gray hair, weathered face and calm air of experience immediately gave Andy confidence. He stuck out his hand in greeting. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise. I understand you managed to keep our man from jumping last week. I’m glad you’re here.”

  Andy ducked his head in embarrassment. “Thanks.” Clearing his throat, he turned to the business at hand. “What can you tell me, Sergeant?”

  “Harry. Call me Harry, please.”

  Andy acknowledged the request with a nod. “How long’s he been up there?”

  “About half an hour or so, I think. The hospital staff noticed he was missing when he didn’t show up in the breakfast room. They searched the ward for a while and when they couldn’t find him, they called security.” He grimaced. “Someone spotted him up here.”

  Tom pursed his lips. “Has anyone been up there to talk to him?”

  “Not as far as I know. Certainly not since I arrived. I wanted to wait for you guys.”

  Andy shielded his gaze from the sun and looked toward the ninth floor. “You did the right thing. It was hard enough to talk him down last time. I’m glad you didn’t send a novice up there.” He turned back to Harry. “Does anyone know what set him off this morning?”

  “Nothing that anyone’s saying, but I read in the hospital notes he took a phone call last night from his wife.”

  “You’ve seen the notes?” Tom asked.

  “Yeah, for last night, anyway. I asked security to get me a copy. I have them right here, if you want to take a look.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a couple of sheets of paper and unfolded them.

  Andy indicated the hospital notes. “Anything else in there we need to know?”

  “Probably not. The only thing of interest was the call from the wife. The rest is just the usual medical jargon. He had an uneventful day and a pretty quiet night, apparently.”

  Andy grimaced. “Apparently.” He turned back to face the building. “Do we know the layout inside? Which room he’s near?”

  “According to the switchboard operator who mans the phones for the residents, there are elevators that stop at each floor. After exiting the elevator, you enter the floor via a set of doors that lead into a common room situated in the center of the building. The rooms branch off from there, down separate corridors that run the length of the building.”

  Andy nodded, frowning in concentration. With another brisk nod, he encompassed Tom, Craig, Sandy and Hugh in his gaze. “Okay, I’m going up.”

  “We’ll be right behind you.”

  Andy made his way into the building and over to the bank of elevators. He thought of the man perched precariously on a window ledge nine floors above him. The familiar rush of adrenaline flooded through him. His stomach tightened with nerves and he sent a silent prayer heavenward that he’d be able to make Wayne Tucker see that his life was still worth living.

  The elevator chimed as it reached the ninth floor and Andy waited for the doors to slide open. He stepped into the deserted foyer and noticed a couple of young officers guarding the doors that provided entry to the floor. When they spotted him, they visibly relaxed, almost as if their jobs were done now that he’d arrived. He wished he had as much confidence in himself and his abilities as the young officers apparently did.

  One of them stepped forward and greeted him. His badge identified him as Constable Reynolds.

  “Boy, are we glad to see you, Detective Senior Sergeant Warwick.”

  “Has anyone else been up here?”

  The second officer shook his head vigorously. “No, sir, there’s been no one. Ever since Senior Sergeant Matthews ordered us up here, we’ve made sure no one’s entered this floor.”

  “Good job, boys.” Andy compressed his lips and looked around. “Where is he?”

  Reynolds swallowed and pointed an unsteady finger in the direction of the closed doors. Behind it, was the common room.

  “He… He’s through there.”

  Andy made his way quietly through the doorway and into the common room, battling feelings of déjà vu. The room was empty—eerily so for seven-thirty in the morning. It should have been a hub of activity as nurses came home from night duty and others came in for breakfast.

  The room was sparsely furnished with a single worn sofa in a dull olive color and an old television set. A small kitchenette was off to his left, containing a hotplate, fridge and a microwave—everything people with no time or inclination to cook extravagant meals required. He knew the scene too well.

  Moving further into the room, he spied the dark shape of Wayne Tucker outside the open window and his body stilled. A faint breeze drifted in, cooling the sweat which had formed on his lip—a combination of the already-warm February morning and the usual rush of nerves he experienced at the beginning of any negotiation. It was funny how most of those nerves disappeared as soon as he made contact. He didn’t know why, but he was grateful they did, because it allowed him to concentrate all his energy on talking to the people who needed his help. And right now, Wayne Tucker needed some serious help.

  The accountant stood on the very edge of the window ledge, no more than two feet in width. There was nothing to hang on to, save the rough brick wall of the building. The slightest movement of his body could unbalance him and send him falling to his death.

  Andy forced air through his lungs in an effort to slow his pulse. With methodical precision, he pulled on the safety harness. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tom come into the room, keeping low, out of sight of the window.

  In silence, he handed his partner the end of the rope that was attached to his safety harness and waited for him to secure it around a concrete pillar not far away. With a deep breath, Andy moved closer to the window and called softly to the man on the ledge.

  “Wayne, can you hear me? It’s Andy. Remember, from last Friday?”

  He held his breath and willed the man to answer. Very occasionally, a negotiator was unable to get any dialogue started and the whole sad episode was over before it began. The odds of succeeding rose dramatically if a conversation commenced. He continued to pray silently while he waited for the man to speak.

  “Don’t come any closer!” Wayne Tucker’s voice trembled.

  “It’s okay, mate. Take it easy. I’m not going to come any closer. I’m going to stand right here. Is that all right?”

  The man nodded hesitantl
y. Hope bloomed in Andy’s chest. At least Tucker was responding to questions. It was a good start.

  “What are you doing out here, Wayne? I thought we sorted this out last week?”

  “I should have done it then and got it over with. What good did another few days make? It hasn’t changed anything. I’ve still lost everything.”

  “What about your wife, Wayne? Cheryl, isn’t it? She’ll be devastated if you jump.”

  Wayne turned slightly and his foot moved precariously close to the edge. He wobbled and Andy’s heart stopped. Blood thundered in his ears, momentarily blocking out sound. Tucker regained his balance and Andy released his breath.

  His relief was short lived. Tucker turned toward him, anger and pain ravaging his face.

  “Cheryl! Huh! She won’t give a damn! She rang last night to tell me she’s leaving and she’s taking the kids with her.”

  Andy’s heart sank and all of a sudden, his nerves were back. Many a time he’d been able to convince a jumper to give it up by emphasizing the loss and pain their families would experience if they were no longer around. That option had just been totaled, at least where his wife was concerned.

  He floundered for something to say and called on everything he’d learned. Pressure built behind his eyes and sweat rolled down his forehead. He spied Tom out of the corner of his eye, holding up a piece of paper with the word “kids” on it. Slowly and carefully, Andy stepped closer to the window and spoke once again.

  “I’m really sorry to hear that, Wayne, but you still have your kids. Marcus and Sophie, isn’t it? They’re as much yours as they are hers. Do you really want them to grow up and not know you or anything about you? If you’re not around, the only person left to tell them about you is Cheryl. Is that what you want?”

  Wayne took an unsteady step toward him, his face purpling with rage. He stabbed a trembling finger in Andy’s direction.

  “What I want,” he ground out, his eyes wild and unfocused, “is for you to shut the fuck up. Do you understand?”

  Andy forced himself to remain calm. With steel-like control, he kept his face impassive and waited Wayne out. A few minutes later, the anger drained out of Tucker and his body went slack. He wobbled on the narrow ledge.

  Bending low, in one quick movement, Andy vaulted over the window frame and stood on the ledge next to Tucker. The broken man hunched over as if in pain, seemingly unaware of Andy’s proximity. With his head bowed low, Tucker crouched on the narrow strip of concrete that was all that remained between him and certain death.

  For long moments, they remained immobile. The heat from the eastern sun swelled. Andy’s arm inched upwards to wipe the sweat out of his eyes and he was relieved when Tucker didn’t notice. A high-pitched keening started from the man crouched close beside him, sending shivers down Andy’s spine.

  Gradually, the noise diminished to a sad whimper and Andy tried once again to engage Tucker in conversation.

  “Tell me about Marcus and Sophie, Wayne. I bet they love playing football with you, right? I loved playing football with my dad when I was a kid.” Andy forced the lie past his lips.

  Tucker looked up at him and then lowered his gaze. “Yeah, they like to play football. Marcus has a really good boot on him, for a kid of his age. He was the top goal scorer last season. Sophie’s more into netball, but she comes to the park with us every now and then.”

  Andy nodded encouragingly, feeling more and more relieved. “It sounds like Marcus might be good enough to play for Australia one day. You want to be around for that, don’t you, Wayne? How cool would it be to know you’re the father of one of those players?”

  For a long moment, he didn’t think Tucker was going to answer. Slowly, inexorably, the man lifted his head again and stared at him. Tucker’s eyes were red and snot ran from his nose, but it was the bleak look of utter despair in his eyes that made Andy turn cold.

  “Marcus won’t want anyone to know about me, once he finds out what I’ve done. I’ve lost everything; the house, the car…the lot. I wanted to give them a better life. Instead, it’s all gone. I’ve been stupid, so, so stupid and now Cheryl left and she’s taken the kids.” Wayne’s voice broke, hoarse with pain and desolation.

  Andy’s heart pounded. With a sudden sense of urgency, he reached out a hand toward the broken man, urging him to take hold of it. Tucker eyed Andy’s outstretched hand in silence. Andy could almost hear the war of words going on inside the man’s head.

  Take it, take it, take it… The words reverberated in Andy’s head, above the thudding of his heart.

  Tucker sighed heavily, a sigh of surrender. Andy half-relaxed against the wall and prepared to pull the man to safety.

  “What the fuck. I’m out of here.” With that, Wayne Tucker threw himself off the ledge.

  Andy screamed Tucker’s name, throwing himself reflexively toward the man. Losing his footing, he swung off the ledge, free falling until the rope hooked to his safety harness pulled him up short.

  Tucker’s body hit the concrete below and landed with a sickening thud. Pain sheared through Andy until he could barely breathe. Screams from the onlookers added to the madness. Grappling with the rope, he was hauled back onto the narrow ledge by his men. He pulled himself back through the window and collapsed onto the floor of the common room.

  He’d failed… In Wayne Tucker’s hour of need, he’d failed.

  With his head in his hands, Andy let out a howl of pain. His failure and the shock of watching a man jump to his death sent white-hot shards of agony through his body. In some small, saner part of his mind, he knew it had been Tucker’s decision, but right now, he was the one responsible for the man who lay dead and broken on the pavement.

  Unable to stop himself, he replayed their conversation over and over before the final, fateful moment.

  Where had he lost him? What had he done wrong?

  “Stop it, Andy. Stop it right now.” Tom’s voice was sure and firm.

  Andy’s eyes were on fire. There was a dull roaring in his ears. He raised his head and stared up at Tom, who had hunkered down beside him.

  “I know what you’re doing. I’ve been there, too. Let it go, mate. Let it go. It wasn’t your fault. Let it go.”

  Anger and despair coursed through him and he turned on his partner and yelled. “Of course it was my fucking fault! I was the one out there with him. I was the one responsible for getting him down. And now he’s dead. Dead! Did you hear me? How is that not my fault?”

  Tom’s gaze remained steady on his. “Andy, don’t do this. I know how hard it is to accept—believe me, I know even better than you, but it’s not your fault.”

  “But—”

  “Listen to me!” Tom shouted, his face only inches away. “You know I know what I’m talking about. You’re not the only negotiator to lose one.” He sucked in a breath and made an obvious attempt to reign in his emotions. Andy stared hard at the floor.

  “You’re not the first one of us to lose one, Andy,” he repeated, his voice now lower and more controlled. “And unfortunately, you won’t be the last. These people are unstable and just plain sick, but they need you, Andy. They need you to care about helping them. They need you to believe that what you do matters…because it does. It always does. Every. Single. Time.”

  Andy wanted to block his ears, to shut out Tom’s words of wisdom, but Tom was only trying to help him and deep down inside, he appreciated his partner’s efforts.

  “Every time you go into a negotiation, Andy, it matters. Sometimes we fail, but most times we win and those are the times we have to focus on. Not on those we lose, but on the ones we help save.”

  Andy dragged his gaze up to Tom’s who shook his head sadly. “Wayne Tucker didn’t want to be saved, Andy. It’s as simple as that. You saved his life a few days ago, but he didn’t value it like you did. He gave up, Andy. He gave up. You did all you could.”

  “But it wasn’t enough.” Andy’s voice was raw with emotion. He shook his head slowly back and forth.
“It wasn’t enough.”

  With a sigh, Tom stood and held out his hand and Andy reluctantly came to his feet. He leaned awkwardly on the other man for support. His body was numb, his limbs were leaden and his feet just plain wouldn’t move.

  “It’s okay, mate. Let’s rest here awhile.”

  Forcing deep breaths into his lungs, Andy concentrated on holding onto the air for as long as he could. What Tom said was true, but right here, right now, the truth of his words didn’t seem to make much difference. The heavy burden of failure weighed him down. His thoughts turned to Tucker’s wife and children and a renewed shard of pain seared through him. There were no winners here.

  It took a long time for Andy’s heart rate to return to normal. He turned to Tom and offered him a sad smile. “Thanks, mate. I owe you one.”

  “No, Andy, you don’t. It’ll happen to me again one day and I know I can rely on you to be there for me.” Tom stared hard at him. “It doesn’t matter how many times it happens, it always feels the same. It’s human nature to remember our failures. It’s as if the successes have never happened. I know mate, I’ve been there.” He turned to include Craig and Sandy and Hugh. “We all have.”

  Tom gripped him tightly by the arms. “I’m not going to tell you not to think about it, because that’s plain impossible and the first time you lose someone is always the hardest, but try to remember the successes, too.”

  Andy barely inclined his head. Tom’s gaze burned into his, fierce with emotion. “All I ask, Andy, is that every now and then, you remember the ones you’ve saved.”

  * * *

  Back at the station, showered and changed and feeling slightly more in control, Andy glanced at his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was nearly seven. The squad room was deserted. He should have been gone long ago. The report on Wayne Tucker sat half completed on the screen in front of him.

  She was late.

  The sound of a vacuum cleaner starting in the adjoining room brought with it a surge of anticipation. This time, the noise didn’t bring forth bad memories. With the Tucker catastrophe fresh in his mind, he hadn’t thought about the beautiful cleaner all day, but now that night had claimed the sky and the passing hours had dulled a little of the memories of his day, his nerves were fairly jumping.