The negotiator sounded like he was grinning.
“Can’t you call in reinforcements?”
“All the staff we have at our disposal are here, the whole lot. They’re maintaining the cordon and evacuating the surrounding buildings. I’ve called in backup, but they’re both waiting for their wives.”
“What does that mean?”
“That they’ve been drinking. Their wives will have to drive them here.”
“Drinking? At this time of day? The day before New Year’s Eve?” the negotiator wondered.
“I don’t know how you do it in Stockholm, but here we take New Year’s seriously,” Jack replied.
The negotiator laughed.
“Stockholmers don’t take anything seriously, you know that. At least, nothing important.”
Jack grinned. He hesitated briefly as he went up a few more steps before asking the question he had been wanting to ask for a while.
“Have you been involved in a hostage drama before?”
The negotiator hesitated before replying.
“Yes. Yes, I have.”
“How did it end?”
“He let the hostages go and came out after we’d spent four hours talking.”
Jack nodded tersely and stopped at the next-to-last floor. He peered out of the landing window through a small pair of binoculars. He could see the wires on the floor of the landing opposite, they were hanging out of a box that someone had written something on with a marker. He wasn’t absolutely certain, but from where he was standing it looked very much like the letters C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S.
“It isn’t a bomb,” he said into his phone.
“What do you think it is, then?”
“Looks like outdoor Christmas lights.”
“Well, then.”
Jack carried on up to the top floor—if the bank robber hadn’t closed the blinds, he might be able to see into the apartment.
“How did you get him out?” he asked.
“Who?”
“The hostage taker. Last time.”
“Oh. All the usual, I suppose, a combination of what you get taught. Don’t use negatives, avoid can’t and won’t. Try to find something you’ve got in common. Find out what his motivation is.”
“Was that really how you got him out?”
“No, of course not. I was joking.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. We talked for four hours and then he suddenly fell silent. And of course that’s the first thing we get taught…”
“To keep him occupied? Not to let the line go quiet?”
“Exactly. I didn’t know what to do, so I took a chance and asked if he wanted to hear a funny story. He said nothing for a minute or so, then he said: ‘Well? Are you going to tell me or not?’ So I told him the one about the two Irish guys in a boat, if you know that one?”
“No,” Jack said.
“Okay, two Irish brothers are out at sea fishing. A storm blows up, and they lose both oars, they’re convinced they’re going to drown. Then suddenly one of the brothers spots something in the water, and manages to grab hold of a bottle. They pull the cork out and POOF! A genie appears. He grants them one wish, anything they want. So the two brothers look around at the stormy sea, they’re stuck out there with no oars, several miles from shore, and the first brother is thinking about what to ask for when the second brother cheerfully blurts out: “I wish the whole sea was Guinness!” The genie stares at him like he’s an idiot, then says, okay, sure, let’s go for that. And POOF! The sea turns into Guinness. The genie vanishes. The first brother stares at the second brother and snaps: “You bloody idiot! We had one single wish and you wished the sea was Guinness! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” The second brother shakes his head in shame. The first brother throws his arms out and says…”
The negotiator left a dramatic pause, but didn’t have time to deliver the punch line before Jack cut in from the other end of the line.
“Now we have to piss in the boat!”
The negotiator let out an affronted snort so loud that the phone shook.
“So you had heard it after all?”
“My mom liked funny stories. Is that really what got the hostage taker to give up?”
The line was quiet a little too long.
“Maybe he was worried I was going to tell him another one.”
The negotiator sounded like he wanted to laugh as he was saying this, but didn’t quite succeed. Jack couldn’t help noticing. He had reached the top floor now, and looked out of the window at the balcony on the other side of the street. He stopped in surprise.
“What the…? That’s weird.”
“What?”
“I can see the balcony of the apartment where the hostages are being held. There’s a woman standing on it.”
“A woman?”
“Yes. Wearing headphones.”
“Headphones?”
“Yes.”
“What sort of headphones?”
“How many different types are there? What difference does that make?”
The negotiator sighed.
“Okay. Stupid question. How old is she, then?”
“Fifties. Older, maybe.”
“Older than fifty, or older than in her fifties?”
“For God’s… I don’t know! A woman. A perfectly ordinary woman.”
“Okay, okay, calm down. Does she look scared?”
“She looks… bored. She definitely doesn’t look like she’s in any danger, anyway.”
“That sounds like an odd hostage situation.”
“Exactly. And that definitely isn’t a bomb in the stairwell. And he tried to rob a cashless bank. I said from the start, we’re not dealing with a professional here.”
The negotiator considered this for a few moments.
“Yes, you might well be right.”
He was trying to sound confident, but Jack could hear his doubt. The two men shared a long silence before Jack said, “Tell me the truth. What happened in that last hostage drama you were involved in?”
The negotiator sighed.
“The man released the hostages. But he shot himself before we managed to get in.”
* * *
Those words would follow Jack throughout the day, right next to his skin.
* * *
He had started to walk back down the stairs by the time the negotiator cleared his throat.
“Okay, Jack, can I ask you a question? Why did you turn down that job in Stockholm?”
Jack considered lying, but couldn’t summon up the energy.
“How do you know about that?”
“I talked to one of the bosses before I set off. Asked her who was on the scene locally. She said I should talk to Jack, because he’s bloody good. She said she’d offered you a job several times, but that you keep turning it down.”
“I’ve got a job.”
“Not like the one she’s offering.”
Jack snorted defensively.
“Oh, all you Stockholmers think the world revolves around your bloody city.”
The negotiator laughed.
“Listen, I grew up in a village where you had to drive forty minutes if you wanted to buy milk. Back there we used to think your town was metropolitan. To us, you were the Stockholmers.”