The Informant (43 page)
“Welcome aboard, Posten.”
Victoria walked into the ship’s communications center with Mike at her side. They’d made the call from an outside deck for better reception on Mike’s portable telephone. Inside, Shapiro was standing near the control panel beside the same FBI technical agents who’d installed the additional security cameras in Nassau.
“How did it come out?” asked Victoria.
“Perfect,” said the techie. “We relayed CNN’s closed-circuit signal from Atlanta through the Operations Center in Miami. It was a scrambled FBI frequency on both ends of the transmission, so I’m sure no one but this ship picked it up. I temporarily blacked out the televisions in the bar and dining room, so our passengers wouldn’t see it. I can virtually guarantee
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you that the only person on the planet who saw the broadcast was Hannon. The way we coordinated it with the restoration of power, he’ll never know there was a break in the regular CNN signal.”
“Good,” said Victoria. “Remind me to write a little thank-you note to CNN.”
Mike cleared his throat pointedly.
She smiled. “And to the
Miami Tribune.
”
He smiled back, then turned serious. “Do you think Hannon will bite?”
“I don’t expect him to come walking out with his hands up, but it might make him think twice before killing his hostages. Your pitch played right to his psychological profile. Hannon believes he’s capable of committing the perfect crime. When he heard you say there was no physical evidence linking him to the crimes, I’m sure he believed that. I’m also sure he’d enjoy the notoriety of going to trial and being found innocent. The problem with the frame-up theory, though, is that it would force him to give someone else credit for his own work. I’m not sure he’s willing to do
that,
even if it means saving his own life. Either way, you deserve an Academy Award.”
“Thanks.”
The phone rang. The display panel flashed cabin 921.
“Should I leave?” Mike asked.
Victoria shook her head. She hit the buttons that allowed the others to overhear on the speaker, then picked up the phone.
“Hello.”
Hannon had a lilt to his voice, as if he were 429
THE INFORMANT
amused. “For a print journalist, Mr. Posten delivered a very compelling report, don’t you think?”
“We just realized Mr. Posten is here, and he’s in a lot of trouble,” Victoria said, keeping up the charade. “That report was completely unauthorized.”
“Unauthorized?” Hannon snickered. “I doubt it. It wasn’t even thought provoking, actually. I’ve known all along you can’t prove anything.”
“Then why don’t you let the hostages go? Why risk a murder charge that can stick?”
“With my record, a conviction for kidnapping alone would mean life in prison. There’s nothing to gain by turning myself in now. And there’s nothing to lose by killing Mr. Cool and the girl.”
“There’s a big difference between life imprisonment and the electric chair.”
“Not in my book. My only option is getting off this ship. And our star reporter’s going to help me.”
“How’s that?”
“He’s the only person on this ship who I can say for certain is
not
an FBI agent. That’s why I want
him
to bring me my scuba gear.”
She glanced at Mike, then shook her head. “We can’t involve a civilian—”
“He’s
already
involved!” Hannon shouted. “Now”—his voice returned to normal—“do you want to see the hostages alive, or don’t you? Oh, and let’s not forget: There is the little matter of that bomb you haven’t found yet.”
“I don’t believe there
is
a bomb, Frank.”
“I don’t believe you can take that risk. Nor can Posten.”
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“No one in his right mind is going to set foot inside your cabin.”
“There’s the rub. I would have to be out of
my
mind to step into the hall and pick up my gear. If the FBI is doing its job, I’m sure you’ve got snipers lined up at both ends.”
“What are you proposing?”
“Send Posten—alone. He’ll probably need a cart to carry all the equipment. When the cabin door opens, he simply wheels the cart across the threshold. I never go outside. He never comes inside. There will be a cart and a hostage between the two of us at all times. When the door closes, Posten leaves. No one gets hurt. I’ll be expecting him at six o’clock.”
“I can’t promise he’ll come.”
“He’ll come. Hold on just a second, okay?”
Victoria bristled at the sudden pause. “Don’t you dare hurt the hostages.”
Hannon said nothing. He kept the phone at his chin, so Victoria could hear him, but he spoke to the housekeeper. “Get up, Shelly.”
She rose slowly from her chair. Her hands were tied behind her back. The blindfold was still in place. With a nudge, he turned and faced her toward the door. Then he reached for the knife on the room service cart. “Do exactly as I say, Shelly.”
Victoria’s heart raced at the other end of the line. “What are you doing to her, Frank?”
Again, he ignored her. With a quick flick of the knife, he cut her hands free. She gasped at the sound of the tearing knife.
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“Now walk, Shelly. And keep walking until I tell you to stop.”
She took a small step, then another. She was tentative, still wearing the blindfold.
“That’s good,” said Hannon. “Nice and slow. Straight ahead. Stop!”
Shelly froze right in front of the door. Hannon was standing twenty feet behind her, deep inside the room.
He crouched behind the dresser, tucked the telephone under his chin and aimed his pistol at the back of her head. “With your right hand, Shelly, take the chain off the door.”
Her hand shook as she reached out for the chain like a blind woman. She found it, then removed it.
Hannon’s eyes narrowed as he focused his aim. “Now open the door.”
Back in the communications center, Victoria grabbed the radio that linked her to the Hostage Rescue Team, adjusting the receiver in her ear.
“Cabin door’s opening,” came the message from the HRT agent parked at the end of the corridor on the Tropical Deck.
Victoria looked at Shapiro, confused. One of the technical agents adjusted the security monitors on the wall, training all six cameras on the long corridor that led to cabin 921, Tropical Deck.
Victoria leaned over the table and spoke into the speakerphone. “Frank, what are you doing?”
“Just watch,” said Hannon, speaking into the phone tucked under his chin. He peered out over the top of the dresser. Shelly was standing in the open doorway, framed in the rectangle of light that led to
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the hallway. “Shelly,” he said loudly, “take one step forward, then get on your knees.”
Her chest heaved with an anxious sigh. The first step took her to the threshold. Kneeling put her body just outside the cabin, but her feet were still inside. She was shaking in her blue-and-white uniform. The hand towel covered her eyes and the top half of her face.
Victoria suddenly got another message in her earpiece from the Hostage Rescue Team. “Hostage in the hall.
Alone.” Victoria glanced at the monitor. The picture confirmed the report.
Hannon’s voice was back on the speakerphone, filling the communications center. “Decision time,” he said in a bemused tone. “I can show good faith and free a hostage.
Or I can show you I mean business and blow her brains out. Ask Posten what he wants me to do.”
Victoria’s gut wrenched. “Just let her go, Frank.”
“Is he coming?” he said, cocking his pistol. “Or isn’t he?”
Mike checked the television monitors on the wall, focusing on the black-and-white image of the long corridor leading to Hannon’s cabin. He and Victoria exchanged glances.
“It doesn’t feel right,” Victoria whispered to Mike.
“There’s a chance he found out about Karen before it all went downhill for him. If so, you’re his payback.”
“What’s it gonna be!” said Hannon.
In the communications center, all eyes were on Mike.
Calmly, he reached over and snatched the receiver from Victoria. “Hannon, this is Posten. You’ve got yourself a delivery boy.”
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Back in cabin 921, Hannon smiled. “How nice,” he said. He focused again on the doorway. “Shelly,” his voice boomed. “Back inside! On your knees!”
Victoria took back the phone. “You said you’d let her go, Frank.”
“I will. Just as soon as Posten keeps his word. If he comes, Shelly leaves with him. If he doesn’t…well, let’s just say she would have been
much
better off had he just said ‘no’ and let me put a bullet in her head.”
The telephone line clicked. All eyes in the communications center turned to the monitors, watching helplessly as Shelly walked backward on her knees, retreating into the cabin. The door swung shut.
Victoria looked away from the monitor. “That
bastard.
”
Mike swallowed the lump in his throat.
Shapiro looked him in the eye. “You sure you want to go through with this, Mike?”
He glanced at Victoria, then back at Shapiro. “I don’t see that there’s much choice. I’d hate to think what he’d do to that girl if I backed out now.”
Victoria sighed, knowing he was right. “Let me check with our sharpshooters. Maybe they can give you a fighting chance.”
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k
evin McCabe was nearly running as he reached the communications center. Mike was standing outside the door, so that the FBI agents could confer among themselves. McCabe gave him a wink as he opened the door and stepped inside. David Shapiro was pacing in front of the wall of television screens. Victoria was sitting at the table. In five minutes Victoria explained everything.
McCabe had a gleam in his eye as he spoke.
“We can view this two ways,” he said. “We can be on the defensive and simply protect Posten. Or we can use this as our entrée for a quick offensive.”
Shapiro made a face. “I won’t have a civilian leading the charge into the den of a psychopath.”
“Of course not,” said McCabe. “Let’s leave Posten out of it.
I’ll
wheel the cart down the hall. We’ll put another agent inside the cart, like a Trojan horse.”
“We can’t make substitutions. Hannon knows what Posten looks like. That’s why he chose him. He 435
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can take one look at Posten and know he’s not dealing with an FBI agent.”
“All right,” said McCabe. “We’re stuck with Posten. He can still be of help to us. For example, when he delivers the equipment, he could discreetly take a look inside the cabin. I’d like to know where the hostage is positioned, whether any furniture has been moved around. That would be of value to us if we do decide to go inside at some point.”
“Mike can’t be looking around,” said Victoria. “He needs to be focused on Hannon, period.”
“Okay,” said McCabe, “here’s another possibility. While he’s focused on Hannon, he could talk to him, try to lure him out of the cabin so that the snipers could get a shot.”
“It’s too dangerous for Mike to strike up a conversation, and Hannon is too smart to be lured out of his cabin anyway.”
“You’re right,” he said. “That leaves us with no choice but my favorite option. In any hostage situation, the moment of the exchange is a moment of distraction. We should take advantage of that. The instant Posten shoves the cart inside, we should send a rescue team in the back door, through the veranda.”
“That’s
extremely
high risk,” said Victoria. “Posten could end up shot by one of our own HRT agents.”
McCabe bristled, obviously annoyed. “Look, I’m trying to be constructive here, and all you’re doing is shooting me down like a protective mother hen. Now, either you got a thing for this guy, or that blond dye job has made you really stupid.”
“Get a grip, will you?”
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“No, you get a grip. If we don’t go in, our hostages are dead. Hannon said it himself: He has nothing to lose by killing them. He wouldn’t even let you talk to Coolidge on the phone. I’d be surprised if the poor kid still has a tongue.”
Shapiro stopped pacing and faced them both. “You’re right, McCabe. It looks like we
will
have to go in. But Victoria’s right, too. We can’t do it with Posten standing in the doorway.”
McCabe grimaced. “If we don’t go when there’s some kind of distraction, you’re making it ten times more risky for our rescue team.”
“The best way to reduce everyone’s risk,” said Shapiro,
“is for Posten to give us an advance look inside the cabin.
I agree with Victoria that Posten can’t be looking around.
But let’s see if our technical support can hook up a camera on him. Even though he’s not going inside, these cabins aren’t that big. We may get a great picture from the hallway.”
Victoria nodded. “I’m okay with that.”
“Fine,” said McCabe. “We’ll stay on the defensive. But if Posten gets into trouble, any realistic rescue has to come in through the veranda. I’m the best man for the job. I want to lead it.”
Shapiro gave him an assessing look. “All right. But no one goes in without a direct order from me or Victoria.
I won’t have Posten used as a decoy.”
“Fair enough,” he said with a confident smirk. “Call in your paperboy, Victoria.”
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h
annon’s cabin was closer to the bow than midship, so Victoria used the deserted casino in the bow as their staging area. Along the far wall, a row of one-armed slot machines stood in silent salute. Two crap tables stretched in isolation beneath a picture window that framed an ocean view. Blackjack and roulette stations were scattered about the interior on a royal blue carpet.
The overhead lights were up to full intensity, giving the place a level of scrutiny that most of its night-owl patrons could never have endured.
“How do you feel, Mike?” she asked.
“Like a guy with a five-dollar limit playing at the fifty-dollar table.”
She smiled only slightly, sensing he was half-serious.