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onlookers were beginning to gather at the police barricades on Biscayne
Boulevard.
Seeing all this firepower in the morning hours, and seeing the crowd at the
barricades, sent a strange image flashing through Jack s mind. He was reminded
of a certain autumn night in northeastern Florida, outside the Florida State
Prison. A group of demonstrators some supporting the death penalty, others
against it had gathered in an all-night vigil. They crowded as near to the
prison gate as the state troopers would allow. A cold fog stirred in
anticipation of the warm morning air, as if the sliver of sunshine on the
horizon signaled much more than just the dawn of another day. Theo Knight was
less than an hour away from his date with the electric chair. His head and
ankles had already been shaved to ensure a clean contact for the electrodes
that would pass twenty-five hundred volts through his body. Jack had said his
goodbyes. It was the closest he would ever come to losing Theo much closer
than any lawyer should ever come to burying a client who was innocent. Back
then, it was the state doing everything within its power to put Theo Knight to
death. Jack s own father, Governor Harry Swyteck, had even signed the death
warrant. Now, years later, and just a few blocks away from the neighborhood in
which a fifteen-year-old Theo had been arrested for murder, an army of police
officers had been deployed to save Theo s life. The executioner this time was
not Jack s father but one of Jack s clients. The guilty executing the
innocent. The ironies were piling up too quickly for Jack to absorb. It was
like hisabuela used to say in yet another one of those Cuban expressions that
her culturally challenged grandson could never seem to remember, but it boiled
down to this: Life was full of sharp turns in the road.
Jack wondered if his client his friend would beat the odds again.
The squad car drove right past the mobile command center. Jack leaned forward
and tapped on the steel grate that separated the front from the backseat.  We
just passed it.
 We re not going there yet, the cop said.
 Where are we headed?
He didn t answer right away. Jack said,  Paulo said he wanted me there ASAP.
Where are you taking me?
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 The mayor needs to speak to you.
 What about?
The cop didn t answer. They turned at the corner and pulled into a parking
garage. The squad car stopped. The driver got out and opened Jack s door. Jack
climbed out of the backseat. The cop nodded toward a dark blue sedan parked at
the end of the row. The click of Jack s heels echoed off concrete walls as he
approached the vehicle. Jack was two steps away when he heard the power locks
release. The passenger door opened a little and then swung out all the way, as
if pushed from the inside. Jack climbed into the passenger seat and closed the
door.
Mayor Raul Mendoza was seated behind the wheel.  Hello, Jack.
 Mr. Mayor, he said flatly.
The mayor laid an unlit cigar on the dashboard. The tip had been chewed flat,
as the mayor had been sucking tobacco to work off stress.  We didn t do so
well in our phone conversation last week, said the mayor.  I was hoping that
the personal touch might make a difference.
 That depends on what you want to talk about.
He paused, seeming to measure his words.  Look, you and I are on the same
side here. I think we can agree on a few simple facts. One, this Falcon
character is a nutcase who is fully capable of cold-blooded murder. Two, he
has your friend. And three, he wants my daughter.
 Has he asked to speak to her?
 Not yet. But he will. And when he does, I want your word that you will not
let it happen.
 How is that my department?
 I m not saying that the City of Miami Police Department is a sieve, but Iam
the mayor. I m told that Falcon wants to talk to you. And if he plays ball and
gives up something in return, they ll agree to put you on the phone.
 They want me to negotiate with him?
  Negotiate might not be the right word. I m sure that your dialogue will be
scripted, or at least highly coached. But yes, they are going to let you talk
to him.
 I m okay with that, I guess.
The mayor flashed a sardonic smile. He took the cigar from the dashboard and
tucked it into the corner of his mouth.  That s very nice, he said, the cigar
wagging as he spoke.  But this isn t a pep talk, pal. It s about ground rules.
My rules.
 Your rules?
 Yeah. He removed the cigar and said,  When you get on that phone, I m sure
that Falcon is going to demand to speak with Alicia. I don t care how much you
want to appease this guy, or what Paulo tells you to say. I don t care if
Falcon puts a gun to your friend s head or if he threatens to blow up the
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entire building. Do not hand that phone to my daughter. Period.
 Well, wait just a second. As I told you when we had our little telephone
conversation about Falcon s bail, I m sympathetic to a father s concerns for
his daughter. But I intend to do what the negotiators tell me to do.
 Do you want to get your friend killed?
 No, of course not.
 Then listen to me. Vince Paulo has this enormous set of balls that makes him
believe that a face-to-face talk with a hostage-taker is a good idea. That s
what happened last time, when everything literally blew up in his face. Now
he s blind, and this time he ll need someone to take him by the arm and walk
him into another death-trap. I m not going to let that person be Alicia.
 Just because we put her on the telephone doesn t mean that she s headed for
an up-close and personal talk with the gunman.
 It s the first step. Clearly, Falcon is obsessed with my daughter. For
crying out loud, he stole her lipstick and sent her that sick  It s only out
of love that I seek you e-mail.
 You need to check your department sources, mayor. They re not so sure it was
Falcon who did either of those things.
 Are you denying that this guy has a thing for my daughter?
Jack remembered his first meeting with Falcon, the look in Falcon s eye when
they spoke about Alicia.  No. I don t deny it. But she s a cop, and if letting
her talk to Falcon can get a hostage released, I m all for it. I think we
should trust the negotiators on this.
 I trustnobody , all right? Do you  He started to say something, then
stopped. At first, Jack thought he was trying to control his anger, but it
seemed that some other emotion was at work.  Do you have any idea what it s
like to lose 
Jack waited for him to finish, but again the mayor stopped himself. The mayor [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]