Forbidden (Southern Comfort) by O'Neill, Clark (best affordable ebook reader txt) 📕

that this is a dangerous, unstable individual who is part of a long-standing human trafficking operation.  We have reason to believe that just yesterday he killed his partner in cold blood.  So no, sir, this isn’t some farmer defending his property.”

“Okay.”  A little of the bite had gone out of the older man’s attitude at the calm authority in Clay’s voice.  “So I guess we need to try to establish some kind of dialogue.  Any idea what kind of demands we’ll be looking at to make this end the way we want it to?”

Clay shook his head and stuffed his hands into his pockets, afraid Agent Beall would notice them shaking.  “Aside from retribution and a free ticket out of here, I’m afraid I don’t have enough information about our abductor to make any viable comments at this time.”  Once Clay heard some of the negotiator’s dialogue with the man – if he was willing to talk – he might have a better idea.  “I do know, however, that this is a man who’s on the edge.  And the fact that we showed up when we did, essentially trapping him, is going to make that edge he’s on even slipperier.  Most hostage-takers go into their situation expecting the police to show up. It gives them a forum to air their grievances.  We took this guy by surprise, and he’s not going to like it.  I think that we should approach the situation with as little show of force as possible, because he’s likely to strike back, hard and fast.”

Agent Beall nodded.  “Okay, Agent Copeland.  You just earned a spot next to the negotiator.  He’s going to need backup if this thing drags out.”

Clay hesitated.  Because he knew that wasn’t a good idea.  Not only was he completely biased and in fact wanted nothing more than for that son of a bitch to die and die hard – and that sort of emotion was completely contrary to setting up a productive dialogue with a hostage-taker – but also because the bastard clearly knew who he was and what Max meant to him.

But how to broach that subject without Beall ordering him off the scene?

Clay cleared his throat, sweat trickling down his back.  It ran cold, despite the relentless heat.

“With all due respect, sir, that’s a position I’d rather not take.  The last time I tried to negotiate a little boy died.  I’ll be happy to advise, but I can’t talk to the offender.”

Beall’s raised eyebrows suggested his opinion of Clay had just tanked. But he was prevented from commenting on that fact by the appearance of a member of the Charleston PD’s SWAT team.

“Our men are ready to move in,” he said, staring at Beall as if he dared him to stop them.  “Webster, the negotiator, hasn’t been able to pull up a land line, and so far the HT seems either unwilling or unable to call the cell number we posted to get him to communicate.  He’s going to use the bullhorn to tell him we’re only moving in to get the deputies some medical attention.”

Clay tensed.  It was a horrible situation.  They needed to get those deputies out of there, but he felt that anything they did to upset this man’s perceived balance of power was going to put Max in further danger.  “Offer him a trade,” he said suddenly, surprising the others into looking his direction.  Surprising himself.  “Right now, those injured deputies are his leverage.  You go in there and take them out, however peaceably, and he might perceive that as loss of control.  We need to offer him something in return.”

“How do we know what to offer,” Kathleen asked, “when he won’t even talk to us?”

“Offer me.”

A chorus of shocked protests erupted, as Clay had known it would. But dammit he had to try something.  Him walking into that house as a voluntary hostage would not only give him a chance to assess the situation from the inside, but also create a heightened sense of power for Rob Johns.  He’d have a federal agent in the doubly vulnerable position of hostage and man who wanted to protect his child.  Johns’ need for control would be safely un-assailed, and Clay would have a better chance of influencing him.

Beall held up a hand to silence everyone’s comments.  “You’re not seriously suggesting that I allow an unarmed federal agent to walk into a crisis situation with an unstable offender, who has already shown no compunction about shooting cops.”

Clay held the other man’s gaze.  “Yes sir.  I am.”

Beall expelled a short burst of disbelieving air.  “You just said you didn’t want to negotiate with the man, but you’re willing to let him hold a gun on you?”

Clay tried to get Beall to see the logic of his suggestion.  Or maybe it wasn’t logical.  Hell, he didn’t know.  And he was too desperate right now to figure it out.  “As a negotiator and a hostage-taker, Johns and I are on relatively equal footing.  However, put me in the position of hostage and Johns suddenly becomes the one in control.  He’s the type personality who’ll be less dangerous if he feels less threatened.  He’ll feel less threatened if he has both me and the child as leverage.”

And Clay could get close enough to him to snap the other man’s neck.

“Do you have any idea what kind of precedent that would set, Agent Copeland?  Word gets out that I let something like that go down, and every hostage-taking psychotic in the country would be demanding a federal agent for every civilian they release.”

“Sir.  You realize that every situation is different.  If you would just –”

Beall shook his head, body language dismissive, and turned his attention to the SWAT team member at his side.  “Get your men ready to get those deputies out of there.  Tell your negotiator to get on the bull horn and let the HT know you’re coming, and that he’d better hold his fire.”

Frustrated, Clay stepped forward and got