Negotiating

The young man on the phone was laughing after the first slap, but I kept my cool.

“We are listening.”

“Then you know that I am not screwing around and that I want to speak to someone higher up right now!”

There was a particular etiquette in these situations and I was following it to the letter. My boss, the main officer on the case, put me in charge for a reason: he did not really care about this one. A man – really, a kid - had a supermarket locked down with a gun and the promise to use it. It was not in a very important part of town – immigrants and poor people, of course – and he thought that this would be good for me. You did not get many hostage incidents in this city, but I was glad to have this opportunity to prove myself. My other cases were all incidents involving the occasional drunk, dumb fights, and one missing person case where the person who was missing had been on a long vacation without telling anyone. Three weeks of wasted time until the woman arrived at home in an out of city taxi and wondered why so many reporters and citizens with placards were camped out on her front lawn. So many apologies and speeches to too many cameras that day… At least I kept my job.

The phone rang again.

“Yes, sir, we are list-”

“It’s not him. It’s me. What is going on?”

Now, that was my boss. Officer Martin…sometimes Officer Merlin to his staff and friends; sometimes Officer Merkin to the press and those who were inclined to say something about the unfortunate haircut he had only the one time. He was breathing very heavily and I could hear some of the other noises in the background (the press really wanted to get him on something; the missing person case was a bad call).

“Sir?”

“What is happening with the case?”

I cleared my throat and looked around the van. I was allowed two assistants and, because cosmic jokes come in all sizes, I was given Stan and Laura (yes, I was thinking of Laurel and Hardy, too, even with the wrong gender and lack of weight). They had joined up about a year after I came in, and they were even more “wet behind the ears” than me when I started. And I knew why they were there. Laura had the cameras working on every entrance and exit (had to remind her that the building had its own cameras we could access; no understanding of tech, that one), and Stan was in charge of the tactical unit which would eventually go in and clean up (that’s how they describe it). But it was all my call.

“Sir, he wants to speak to someone higher up.”

The pause did not fill me with much hope. I could almost see the cameras that would be aimed at us as we explained another bad call.

“Officer Welkes, you are the senior on this one. You are the ‘higher up’ that he is dealing with. You know the procedure and you know what to do. Let him blow off some steam, explain how these things actually work, and then...,” he let out a long breath and I knew that he had finished his thought.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. And the press does not have to know how you do it as long as you do. Just keep those assholes away from the heat.”

“I will.”

“Right.” A sharp click in my headphones and he was gone.

Away from the heat… I always hated that phrase, especially when I thought about the time of year and the sweat running down my back as I dealt with this.

“What did the Merkin say?”

Stan was not on the mikes, but he knew who called.

“He says that the ball is mine and I have to play with it. And don’t call him that.”

“Not within a live mike, anyway. Merlin sounds much more pro.”

Laura was on cameras. She did not worry about being heard.

“Right.” I kept looking at the call button as I pretended not to listen to the two who obviously wanted to go home. The kid in the store wanted to speak to someone higher up; someone who could give him what he wanted while people sat terrified in a supermarket. I just wanted to get the day done. I just wanted to eat something decent soon (great to be near a supermarket without having any real food; Stan’s pretzels were no longer appealing). And I wanted to get away from this whole thing.

Away from the heat…

And that is how I developed my idea. There was a phone call I had to make.

*

“So, am I on yet?”

“Just one minute…”

Stan and Laura were laughing, but I knew I had made the right call.

“You really doing this? The Merkin wants this over and this is the way…?”

“Keep the team on alert. This will end soon.”

“I am just glad that we have cameras to record this.”

“Keep watching…”

I opened up the phone line and could hear the ringing from the building.

Now, one interesting thing that I learned later is that one of the cameras on the kid was connected inside our van. I had not seen it, but playing back the information was quite interesting. All the ups and downs of this were being saved and savoured by Laura, soon to be an interesting study for plenty of officers in training all over the city.

“I’m ready…”

“Yes, sir. We have found someone higher up.”

A brief crackle of static and electricity let her know she was on.

“Young man!”

“Who is this?”

“Never mind ‘Who is this?’ Who are you stopping all of these nice people from going home because you wanted to grab some money that is not even yours? Who are you?”

My feed into the mike was being recorded. This had to work.

“Um, are you with the police, or is this…?”

“Hey, you! I am the one who is handling this. Don’t bother with more police. You have me. Now, what is your name?”

Laura was giggling; Stan was sighing and shaking his head. This would work.

“My name’s… Michael.”

“Good. You can speak and you have an angel’s name. Now, Michael, why are you doing this?”

That was when I turned to look at the monitors. Some of the tactical team looked bored earlier. Now, their attention became very focused on what they heard through their mic’d helmets.

“I just…well, ma’am, I…” The boy sounded nervous, but it was going well. That “ma’am” was good to hear. “Well, I am out of school, and I just…”

“So, no money, no education, but you have a gun?”

Silence, for just a moment.

“Answer me, son.”

“Yes.”

“And you do this?”

Was he about to cry? There was a crack in that throat that sounded like it was holding back tears.

“I just did not know…”

“How old are you?”

“20.”

“20.” My guest could not hide her contempt. She was doing so much better at this than I ever could. “No plans, no education, and no… Hey, wait a minute; you have not given them a list of demands yet?”

I wanted to cut off the mike right there. We had a plan.

“Demands?”

“Yeah, like in the movies or on television. You have things you want to get what you want. You didn’t even make one, right?”

“No, I just thought…”

“You weren’t thinking. So, try it now.”

“What?”

“Make a list. We need to hear it.”

Okay, I was going to be out of a job. Recording this nonsense was a terrible idea. And I wanted to come in with my line, but…

“Think it’s too late, ma’am.”

“It is not too late…Michael. What is too late is going back and pretending this will end well. So, what do you want?”

Sometimes you can see a life moving at a different speed than everyone else’s. I was seeing my entire career being slowed down and stopped as we all waited for the boy to speak.

“Well, I guess…a car?”

The contempt was high and hot in my ear.

“You don’t have one already?”

“No, I did not…”

Stan was trying not to laugh out loud. “A nice little piece of information there, like all the others.”

“The woman is doing well. Who is she, anyway?” Laura could see that the boy was really listening.

“Guys…”

“Who’s that?”

“Officer Welkes…”

“Officer, I am handling this. The boy knows what he wants.” She cleared her throat and spoke past me. “So, a car?”

“Yeah…and I guess we should take a break now.”

“You’ve got the food.”

They both laughed in my ear. It was really strange to see how well she did.

“Just let them go to the bathroom if they need to, son.”

“I did! I did! Only a few wanted to go. And it wasn’t too crowded.”

“Good, Michael. Now, anything else?”

I was really beginning to hate all the pausing and waiting that I could not control. No one seemed to breathe on our side. But I knew it was over when the boy said the next thing on his mind.

“I just want to go home.”

He started to cry.

*

So, final report: no one injured except one smart-mouthed manager whom all the other patrons and staff blamed for getting slapped. The Merkin – he can’t hear me now – was pleased that the boy came out on his own. And the press was on our side again.

I really have to thank Stan and Laura for all they did, especially getting that camera feed set up and having everything recorded. It allowed me to keep my job and consider more work in negotiation and containment.

And you have probably all guessed who that was on the phone.

Ah, Mom.

So many lessons were learned at your feet, especially when things look desperate.

That boy…

He was lucky that family looked after itself.

I somehow managed to keep that out of the news, too.

There is a long road ahead for all of us…

…away from the heat.

*

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