Standoff

Galloway quickly came to his feet when the van's side door opened. Sheriff Montez, whom Galloway had come to respect as a wise, savvy, and intuitive lawman, entered first. He motioned inside a bandy-legged, potbellied, balding man who smelled like the pack of Camels that were visible in the breast pocket of his shirt.

"My name's Gully."

"Special Agent Galloway." As they shook hands, he added, "Maybe we should talk outside. It's becoming crowded in here."

Inside the van now were three FBI agents in addition to Galloway, the FBI psychological profiler, Russell Dendy, Cole Davison, Sheriff Montez, and the newcomer, who said, "Then kick somebody else out, because I'm staying until Tiel is safe and sound."

"You're the news assignments editor, is that correct?"

"Going on half a century. And tonight I left my newsroom in the hands of a wet-behind-the-ears rookie with bleached hair and three silver hoops in his eyebrow, a smart-ass fresh out of UT with a degree in television." He snorted with derision at the presumption that broadcast journalism was something that could be learned at college.

"I rarely leave my post, Mr. Galloway. And never in the hands of incompetents. That I did so tonight should give

you some indication of how much I think of Tiel McCoy.

So, no, sir, Mr. Galloway, my ass is a permanent fixture of this van until this business is over. You're Dendy, right?"

Suddenly he turned to the Fort Worth millionaire.

Dendy didn't deign to reply to so brusque a greeting.

'Just so you know," Gully told him, "if anything happens to Tiel, I'm gonna rip out your goddamn guts. My opinion, you're the cause of all this." Leaving Dendy to smolder in his wrath, Gully turned back to Galloway. "Now, what is it Tiel's after? Whatever it is, she gets."

"I've consented to her request of sending in a video cameraman."

"He's outside, geared up and raring to go."

"First, I need to lay down a few ground rules for this recording."

Gully's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Such as?"

"This tape must serve our purposes too."

Cole Davison stepped forward. "What purposes?"

"I want a view of the store's interior."

"What for?"

"This is a standoff, Mr. Davison. Hostages are being held at gunpoint. I need to know what's going on in there so I can respond accordingly."

"You promised me my son would not be hurt."

"He won't be. Nor will anyone else. Not if I can help it."

"Might freak out the boy if he thinks you're concentrating on the lay of the land instead of his message," Gully remarked.

"I want to know who is where inside that store." Galloway spoke with authority, quelling any further discussion on the matter. He didn't care who disliked it; that was a non-negotiable condition.

"That it?" Gully asked impatiently.

"That's it. I'll call Ms. McCoy now."

Gully motioned Galloway toward the telephone. "Get after it. If you're waiting on me, you're backing up."

Under other circumstances, Galloway would have laughed at the man's brazenness. But his voice was all business when he got through to Ronnie. "This is Agent Galloway. Let me speak to Ms. McCoy."

"Are you going to let us do the video?"