Hostage

They had come to the desert for their honeymoon. Not when they first married; they didn't have enough money for that. But later, when his six-month probation was over, they had each taken two vacation days to make a long weekend, thinking they would drive to Las Vegas. The idea, the great plan, was to beat the summer heat by making the drive after sundown, but Vegas was a long way, four hours. They stopped at the halfway point for something to eat, a nothing little town at the edge of the California desert, and went no farther. The honeymoon cottage that night was a twenty-dollar motel off the highway; dinner was a cheap steak at the Sizzler, after which they explored the town. Driving now, Talley remembered the desert heat of that night; Jane had scared him, Talley the tough young SWAT cop, by climbing out the car's window and sitting on the door as they raced along the back desert roads.

Talley hadn't recalled those memories in years, and now felt uneasy with their absence, as if they had been lost within himself. He wondered what else might be lost within himself.

Talley turned onto the condominium grounds. He found Jane's car parked in the first of the two spaces that were his, and pulled in beside it. He stared up the walk toward his condo, uneasy about the conversation they were about to have. She had finally called him out on their future, and now he had to deal with it. No more running, no more denial, no more excuses; he could keep her, or he could lose her. Tonight it was going to be as simple as that.

As Talley stepped from his car, he noticed that the parking lot was darker than usual; both security lights were out. Talley was locking his car as a woman stepped from the walk that led to his building.

'Chief Talley? Could I have a word with you?'

Talley thought she might be one of his neighbors. Most of the people in the complex knew he was the chief of police, often coming to him with complaints and problems.

'It's pretty late. Could this keep until tomorrow?'

She was attractive, but not pretty, with a clean, businesslike expression, and hair that cupped her face. He did not recognize her.

'I wish it could, Chief, but we have to discuss this tonight.'

Talley heard a single footstep behind him, the shush of shoe on grit, then an arm hooked his throat from behind, lifting him backward and off his feet. Someone held a gun before his face.

'Do you see it? See the gun? Look at it.'

Talley clawed at the arm that was choking him, but only until he saw the pistol. Then he stopped struggling.

'That's better. We're only going to talk, that's all, but I will kill you if I have to.'

They lowered him, gave him his feet again. Someone opened his car again as someone else felt beneath his jacket and around his waist.

'Where's your gun?'

'I don't carry it.'

'Bullshit. Where is it?'

The hands went to his ankles.

'I don't carry it. I'm the Chief. I don't have to.'

They pushed him behind the wheel. Talley saw shapes; he wasn't sure how many; maybe three, could have been five. Someone in the backseat directly behind him smashed the ceiling light with the gun, then pushed the gun hard to his neck.

'Start the car. Back up. We're just going to talk to you.'

'Who are you?'

Talley tried to turn, but strong hands shoved his face forward. Two men wearing black knit ski masks and gloves were in the backseat.

'The car. Back up.'

Talley did as he was told, his headlights swinging across the walk. The woman was gone. Red taillights waited at the far end of the parking lot.

'See that car? Follow it. We won't go far.'

Talley pulled in tight on the car. It was a late-model Ford Mustang, dark green with a hard top and California plates. Talley worked at remembering the tag number, 2KLX561, then glanced in the rearview mirror as a second car tucked in tight behind his.

'Who are you?'

'Drive.'

'Is this about what's happening?'

'Just drive. Don't worry about it.'

The Mustang drove carefully, leading him back to the street, then out along Flanders Road to a minimall less than a mile away. All the shops were closed, the parking lot empty. Talley followed the Mustang into the alley behind the shops, where it stopped beside a Dumpster.

'Pull up closer. Closer. Bumper to bumper.'

He bumped the Mustang.

'Turn off the ignition. Give me the key.'

Talley had known a kind of fear when he had worked the tactical teams on SWAT before he was a negotiator; but that was an impersonal fear, a going-into-combat fear leavened by the armor you wore, the weapon you carried, and the support of your teammates. This was different, up close and personal. Men were assassinated like this, their bodies left in Dumpsters.

He turned off the ignition, but didn't take out the key. The second car came up so close that it was inches from his own, blocking him in. Talley told himself this was a good sign; they didn't want him to try to run. They wouldn't worry about it if they simply wanted to shoot him.

'Give me the damned key.'

He held it up; the hand snatched it away.