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Eve pointed to the 'link. "Keep it calm and friendly. You ask him what he wants, what we can do for him. Don't criticize him. Don't say anything to set him off. Just keep him talking."
She turned away, moving just out of range and pulled out her communicator. "Commander."
"On my way." His face might have been carved in granite. "Situation?"
She relayed it, fast and brief.
"Negotiator is also on his way. What do you need?"
"Sharpshooters. I'm getting eyes, but at this point I can't ascertain target area. Feeney usually keeps his shades up, but they might be lowered. Rushing the room or shutting it down is too risky. He'd drop Feeney before we could get to him."
"I'm two minutes away. Keep him talking. Find out what he wants."
"Yes, sir." She moved back toward the 'link. Gates tapped manually on the keys of a mini-unit.
He's not listening to me. Incoherent, scattered. No answers. Looks sick.
Eve nodded and took over the 'link. "You okay in there, Captain Halloway? Need anything?"
"I need some respect! I'm not going to be ignored."
"I'm not ignoring you. You have my full attention. I am having a little trouble concentrating. If you could ease back on your weapon a little so we can talk this out."
"So you can bust in here?" His laugh was a squeaky wheeze. "I don't think so."
"No one's coming in there. There's no reason we can't resolve this without more injuries. Feeney, you'll give Halloway your word to remain seated and cooperative, won't you?"
Feeney understood the message. Stay where you are as long as possible. "Sure. I'll sit right here while we work this out."
"It's hot in here. It's too goddamn hot in here." As he spoke, Halloway used his free hand to swipe at the blood that trickled out of his nose.
Seeing it, Eve went cold. "I'll have the climate control adjusted." She gestured off-screen to Gates. "We'll cool it down in there for you. You feeling okay otherwise, Halloway?"
"No! No, I'm not feeling okay. This son of a bitch has me working until my damn eyes bleed. My head." He grabbed a handful of his own hair, yanked viciously. "My head's killing me. I'm sick. He made me sick."
"We can get you a medical. Will you let me send a medical in? You don't look well, Halloway. Let me get you some medical assistance."
"Just leave me alone." When a tear dripped out of his eye, it was tinged with blood. "Leave me alone. I need to think!"
He broke transmission.
"Status," Whitney snapped from behind her.
"He's sick. He's showing the same symptoms demonstrated by Cogburn. I can't explain it, Commander, but he's dying in there, and he could take Feeney with him. We need to get him out, get him medical assistance."
"Lieutenant. Ah, Commander." Another detective hustled up. "We've got your eyes." He managed a wan smile. "And ears with them."
With Whitney, Eve bent over a monitor. She could see the whole of Feeney's office now - the sun and the privacy shades lowered. There would be no outside visual for the sharpshooters. Feeney was in his desk chair, restraints locking his arms to its arms.
Halloway paced behind him, his young, pleasant face ravaged. His own blood smeared it like war paint. He tore at his hair with one hand, waved the weapon wildly with the other.
"I'm the one who knows what I'm doing around here." He raged, kicking Feeney's chair viciously as he passed. "I'm the one who's in charge. You're old and you're stupid, and I'm sick to death of your orders."
Feeney's response was quiet and measured. "I didn't know you were feeling that way. What can I do to make things right with you?"
"You want to make them right? You want to make them right?" He jammed the weapon under Feeney's chin again and had Eve braced to hurl herself at the office door. "We're going to write us a memo, Ry."
"Okay, okay." She let out a long breath. "Keep him busy."
"Sir. Negotiator's on-scene."
"Bring him up-to-date, Dallas," Whitney ordered. "Then we structure alternatives."
She briefed the negotiator, set him up with a
She turned away, moving just out of range and pulled out her communicator. "Commander."
"On my way." His face might have been carved in granite. "Situation?"
She relayed it, fast and brief.
"Negotiator is also on his way. What do you need?"
"Sharpshooters. I'm getting eyes, but at this point I can't ascertain target area. Feeney usually keeps his shades up, but they might be lowered. Rushing the room or shutting it down is too risky. He'd drop Feeney before we could get to him."
"I'm two minutes away. Keep him talking. Find out what he wants."
"Yes, sir." She moved back toward the 'link. Gates tapped manually on the keys of a mini-unit.
He's not listening to me. Incoherent, scattered. No answers. Looks sick.
Eve nodded and took over the 'link. "You okay in there, Captain Halloway? Need anything?"
"I need some respect! I'm not going to be ignored."
"I'm not ignoring you. You have my full attention. I am having a little trouble concentrating. If you could ease back on your weapon a little so we can talk this out."
"So you can bust in here?" His laugh was a squeaky wheeze. "I don't think so."
"No one's coming in there. There's no reason we can't resolve this without more injuries. Feeney, you'll give Halloway your word to remain seated and cooperative, won't you?"
Feeney understood the message. Stay where you are as long as possible. "Sure. I'll sit right here while we work this out."
"It's hot in here. It's too goddamn hot in here." As he spoke, Halloway used his free hand to swipe at the blood that trickled out of his nose.
Seeing it, Eve went cold. "I'll have the climate control adjusted." She gestured off-screen to Gates. "We'll cool it down in there for you. You feeling okay otherwise, Halloway?"
"No! No, I'm not feeling okay. This son of a bitch has me working until my damn eyes bleed. My head." He grabbed a handful of his own hair, yanked viciously. "My head's killing me. I'm sick. He made me sick."
"We can get you a medical. Will you let me send a medical in? You don't look well, Halloway. Let me get you some medical assistance."
"Just leave me alone." When a tear dripped out of his eye, it was tinged with blood. "Leave me alone. I need to think!"
He broke transmission.
"Status," Whitney snapped from behind her.
"He's sick. He's showing the same symptoms demonstrated by Cogburn. I can't explain it, Commander, but he's dying in there, and he could take Feeney with him. We need to get him out, get him medical assistance."
"Lieutenant. Ah, Commander." Another detective hustled up. "We've got your eyes." He managed a wan smile. "And ears with them."
With Whitney, Eve bent over a monitor. She could see the whole of Feeney's office now - the sun and the privacy shades lowered. There would be no outside visual for the sharpshooters. Feeney was in his desk chair, restraints locking his arms to its arms.
Halloway paced behind him, his young, pleasant face ravaged. His own blood smeared it like war paint. He tore at his hair with one hand, waved the weapon wildly with the other.
"I'm the one who knows what I'm doing around here." He raged, kicking Feeney's chair viciously as he passed. "I'm the one who's in charge. You're old and you're stupid, and I'm sick to death of your orders."
Feeney's response was quiet and measured. "I didn't know you were feeling that way. What can I do to make things right with you?"
"You want to make them right? You want to make them right?" He jammed the weapon under Feeney's chin again and had Eve braced to hurl herself at the office door. "We're going to write us a memo, Ry."
"Okay, okay." She let out a long breath. "Keep him busy."
"Sir. Negotiator's on-scene."
"Bring him up-to-date, Dallas," Whitney ordered. "Then we structure alternatives."
She briefed the negotiator, set him up with a
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