Hostage

He nudged her again, wanting to say something. She made sure that Kevin wasn't watching them, then mouthed the word more than spoke it.

'What?'

Thomas leaned close and lowered his voice even more. The pink spots at his mouth burned brightly.

'I know where Daddy has a gun.'

CHAPTER 5

Friday, 5:10 P.M.

GLEN HOWELL

Glen Howell closed his cell phone after fifteen rings. He didn't like that. He was expected, and he knew that this person always answered his phone, and was irritated that now, him running late like this, the sonofabitch would pick now not to answer. In Glen Howell's world, lateness was not tolerated and excuses were less than useless. Punishment could be severe.

Howell didn't know why the streets leading into York Estates were blocked, but the traffic was at a standstill. He figured it had to be a broken gas line or something like that for them to close the entire neighborhood, backing up traffic and wasting everyone's time. Rich people didn't like to be inconvenienced.

The window on his big S-class Mercedes slid down without a sound. Glen craned out his head, trying to see the reason for the delay. A lone cop was working the intersection, waving some cars away. He let a television news van through. Glen raised the window again, the heavy tint cutting the glare. He took the.40-caliber Smith amp; Wesson from his pocket and put it in the glove box. He had a valid California Concealed Weapon Permit, but thought it best not to draw attention to himself if he had to get out of the car.

Glen checked his watch again for the fourth time in five minutes. He was already ten minutes late. At this rate, he would be still later. Three of the cars ahead of him turned away, one car was let through, and then it was his turn. The cop was a young guy, tall and rectangular with a protruding Adam's apple.

Glen lowered the window. The heat ballooned in, making him wish he was back in Palm Springs, instead of being an errand boy. He tried to look professional and superior, working the class distinctions, rich successful business dude, lowly uneducated public servant.

'What's going on, Officer? Why the roadblock?'

'Do you live here in the neighborhood, sir?'

Glen knew that if he lied, the cop might ask to see his driver's license for the address. Glen didn't want to get caught in a lie.

'I have a business appointment. My associate is expecting me.'

'We've got a problem in the neighborhood, so we've had to close the area. We're only admitting residents.'

'What kind of problem?'

The cop looked uncertain.

'Do you have family in the development, sir?'

'Just my friends, like I said. You're making me worried about them, Officer.'

The cop frowned, and glanced back along the row of cars behind Glen.

'Well, what it is, we've got robbery suspects in one of the houses. We've had to evacuate several of the homes, and close off the development until we can secure the area. It could take a while.'

Glen nodded, trying to look reasonable. Ten seconds, he already knew that he couldn't flash a hundred at this guy to buy his way in. He would never go for it.

'Listen, my client is expecting me, Officer. It won't take long. Really. I just need a few minutes, then I'm gone.'

'Can't let you in, sir, I'm sorry. Maybe you could phone your party and have them come meet you, if they're still inside. We've had people going door to door, telling people to stay indoors or offering to escort them out. I can't let you in.'

Glen worked on staying calm. He smiled, and stared past the patrol car like he was thinking. His first impulse in any confrontation was to use his gun, put two hot ones square in the other guy's forehead, but he had a handle on that. Years of therapy had taught him that, even though he had an anger-based personality, he could control it. He controlled it now.

'Okay. That might work. Can I park over here to call?'

'Sure.'

Glen pulled his car to the side, then called the number again. This time, he let it ring fifteen times, but still didn't get an answer. Glen didn't like this. With all the cops around, his guy might have developed a case of the quivering shits and was laying low, or maybe he'd been forced from his home. He might even have a bunch of cops in his home, using it as a command post or something. Glen laughed out loud at that one. No fucking way. Glen figured the guy must've been evacuated, in which case he would probably call Palm Springs to arrange another meet location, and Palm Springs would phone Glen. The cop would probably know which families had been evacked, or could find out, but Glen didn't want to draw attention to his man by asking.