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like I said, we heard a scream in there, Falcon. It sounded like a man. I need
to hear Theo Knight s voice, make sure he s okay.
He s fine.
I got guys chomping at the bit to beat that door down, Falcon. Help me out
here. I need to hear his voice.
Falcon gritted his teeth, then walked over to Theo, who was still seated on
the floor. Facing him, he put the gun to Theo s left ear, the phone to his
right. Say something.
There s two more
Falcon slugged him with the butt of the gun and snatched the phone away
before Theo could finish. Not so damn loud, he said as he brought the phone
back to his ear. He was furious but still whispering.
Paulo said, Falcon, do you have two more hostages?
I want to talk to Swyteck.
Why are you whispering?
Because she s here. In the bathroom.
Who s in the bathroom?
It s her. I know it s her.
Who is she?
I can t get rid of her!
Falcon, take a breath and tell me who else is there with you.
Falcon was pacing furiously, but he was careful with each footfall so as not
to make too much noise. She s always here. Everywhere I go, she just shows
up.
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Who?
She comes to the river. She comes to my house. She sits on my milk crate.
She won t go, she won t never go! I beat the living crap out of her with a
pipe and stuff her in the trunk, and she s still here! Right here in the
bathroom!
Falcon, tell me who you re talking about.
He cupped his hand around the receiver, containing his words so that no one
would overhear. It made his whisper even raspier. I have to tell Swyteck
something.
No problem. I can pass it on to him. What is it?
Tell him first tell him I still want my money.
Okay, he s working very hard on that. Anything else?
Yeah, he said as he shot a nervous glance toward the bathroom door. Tell
him I need, I reallyneed , my fucking necklace. He closed the flip phone and
disconnected.
chapter 30
Jack was in search of the Bushman.
Falcon s demand for his necklace had made absolutely no sense to Sergeant
Paulo. Jack, however, knew exactly what his client was talking about. He
wanted the necklace of metal beads that had held the key to Falcon s safe
deposit box at the Greater Bahamian Bank & Trust Company. Problem was, Jack
had last seen it around the neck of a homeless and extremely paranoid Jamaican
called the Bushman.
Would you know this Bushman if you saw him again? asked Paulo.
Sure. My guess is that he lives along the river, probably not far from
Falcon s car. If someone can give me a ride, I ll find him.
I ll go, said Alicia.
Jack had yet to tell anyone about his private talk with Alicia s father, but
the upshot of that conversation made it seem like a good idea to take the
mayor s daughter away from the command center and the lead negotiator. Great.
Let s go.
They took Alicia s personal car, so she had to flash her badge to get through
the traffic-control perimeter. Miami Avenue took them south, toward the river.
They parked at a metered spot near Tobacco Road, Miami s oldest bar, a place
where Theo had on many occasions blown the saxophone until the wee hours of
the morning. Jack wasn t searching for memories, but it was amazing how the
prospect of losing a friend made you see him everywhere and in everything.
What does this Bushman look like? said Alicia as they walked along the
north side of the river.
The thing I remember most is that he had about three miles of dreadlocks
tucked up under a bulging knit cap, and the whole blob on top of his head was
wrapped in aluminum foil. It reminded me of Jiffy Pop.
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Of what? said Alicia.
Remember in the days before microwave popcorn how you would cook it on the
stove in that little container that looked like a pie tin? As the corn popped,
the foil on top would blow up like a big aluminum balloon? Well, that s the
Bushman s head.
There was popcorn before microwaves? she said.
Jack was about to answer, but he noted the little smile, a signal that she
was yanking his chain.Nothing like being made to feel old by a young and
beautiful cop .
Jack walked around a heap of rusted metal that appeared to be part of an old
barge. Your father corralled me for a talk before I came back to the command
center this morning.
She cast him a tentative look. What about?
He s very concerned that you might play too active a role in this hostage
negotiation. He made me promise that if I talk to Falcon, I won t even mention
your name.
My father means well. But you should do whatever Sergeant Paulo tells you to
do.
They continued walking. The terrain was flat, but the piles of junk along the
river were getting more formidable. With an active hostage-situation back at
the hotel, Jack felt as though he should be running to find the Bushman, but
he had to watch his step with all the twisted metal along the banks. What can
you tell me about Paulo?
He s excellent.
How well do you know him?
She hesitated just long enough for Jack to sense that it was a complicated
question. Very well, she said.
I hope you don t mind my asking this, but is hetotally blind?
Yes. Now, before you freak out, just remember that he s an experienced
negotiator. Listening, talking, persuading that s the essence of his job, and
none of it is tied to his sight. It s not like he s a blind cosmetic surgeon
about to feel his way through your nose job.
Jack did a little face-check. What s wrong with my nose?
Nothing&
Good.
& that a little plastic surgery couldn t fix.
Ah, cop humor. That s one thing we criminal defense lawyers just can t get
enough of.
Alicia stopped and pointed. Is that him?
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Just ahead, near the bridge, a man was asleep on the ground. His winter
jacket was so dirty that his form nearly blended into the earth, but the
morning sun reflected off his shiny headgear like a chrome globe. Gotta be
the Bushman, said Jack.
They approached with caution, the way anyone might approach a guy who slept
alongside the river with his head wrapped in aluminum foil. He lay curled up
on his right side. A charred, empty crack bowl was on the ground beside him. A
stray cat was licking something off of his hand, but the Bushman wasn t
moving. It was hard to tell if he was even breathing.
Bushman? said Jack. He still didn t move. Jack tried a little louder, Hey,
Bushman!
The Bushman groaned and slowly propped himself up on one elbow. What you
want, mon?
Remember me? It s Jack Swyteck your friend Falcon s lawyer.
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