Around 5:00PM, Bell trots over to the deposition room and leans in the doorway. ‘Hey, you might want to hear this. They searched vital records for recently deceased residents and got the name of a Vivian Kirke, who died in May. She left her son, Peter Thomas Kirke, as sole beneficiary. House, car, the works.’
‘What?’ Emma stands, sets her mug of water down. ‘So Peter used his real name in Paradise?’
‘Looks like it.’ Bell nods. ‘We still need to confirm. He’s the right age, and we’re waiting on a copy of his driver’s license from Pennsylvania Department of Motor Vehicles. If his photo is a match with your composite, things are gonna start happening. Come on out – there’s gonna be a briefing.’
The noise level in the bullpen is getting loud. As she and Kristin emerge into the scramble, Emma notices a couple of guys in black fatigues and realizes that Carter has called SWAT into the briefing. Carter’s standing in shirtsleeves at a table near the front, calling instructions and accepting information as men mill around.
‘Here, sir.’ A young gray-shirted officer hands him a folder.
‘Thank you. Is this—’ Carter checks the papers in the folder. ‘Okay, this is good. Ask the chief if he’s done on the phone, please.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The briefing area has a corkboard – the same one from the City-County Building, it looks like – which has been plastered with all the latest new data. Emma and Kristin watch the action from the end of a row of filing cabinets, behind and to the left of Carter. Bell stands beside them, his eyes restlessly scanning.
Once again, Emma realizes, she and Kristin are the only women in the room: Faye and the other women from the switchboard are all downstairs. While there might be female officers in some department here somewhere, Emma has never seen them and they’re not in attendance now.
‘Do you think Carter will—’ Emma starts.
‘Hold up.’ Bell lifts his chin at someone walking in the main entrance. ‘Kirby’s here.’
Jack Kirby leads a group of three agents into the room, one of whom is Mike Martino. All of them are wearing dark suits with somber ties.
‘I haven’t met Mr Kirby yet,’ Emma says. Kirby is a man with very pale eyes in a wide face, and blond Germanic hair. He conferences with Carter as people start to gather.
‘I’ll introduce you,’ Bell says.
Kristin cranes her neck. ‘Is it starting soon?’
‘I think they’re just waiting on the info from the DMV.’
Horner arrives; there’s a lot of handshaking going on. Like Kristin, Emma wants them all to cut to the chase and get moving.The phones around them are ringing off the hook, and Bell gets pulled away to answer a call.
Kristin chafes her fingers together, looking around. ‘Such a lot of delay.’
‘Lots to coordinate,’ Emma reassures her. But there’s a hard fizz of nervous tension under her ribs, gaining strength.
The fax machine chatters. Another detective – Simmons – brings the papers over.
‘Is that what I’m hoping it is?’ Carter asks. He slips his glasses on to look, nods at the paper solemnly and passes it to Horner. ‘We got it.’
Horner peruses the fax. ‘Who made the ID?’
‘Merrill Grantham, Vivian Kirke’s attorney and executor. He knows the family. Confirmed identification from the composite, in comparison with the DMV shots.’
‘That’s it, then.’
‘Yes, it is.’ Carter looks both pleased and relieved. ‘We’re good to go.’
‘Outstanding,’ Horner says. He turns and faces the room, claps for quiet. ‘Okay, people, let’s form up. Listen here.’
There are thirty men in the bullpen, and most of them are gathering in this corner; detectives, task force officers, SWAT, and FBI. Bell arrives back to stand by the girls.
Everyone settles as the chief begins to speak.
‘All right, gentlemen, we have a positive identification of the target. His name is Peter Thomas Kirke, white male, twenty-seven years old, brown and brown. Address is 198 Union Avenue, Crafton.Now, we don’t want to spook him. He’s still holding a twenty-year-old girl hostage. We want everything to go nice and fast and clean.’
Carter takes a step forward and continues. ‘Pittsburgh SWAT and the Hostage Rescue Team will be heading for Crafton. Ground transport is being provided by the DEA, we’ve got a couple delivery and utility vans prepped. Ten-man teams, stun grenades for forced entry, hard-shell armor. The gentleman standing over there’ – he gestures with his hand – ‘is Special Agent Jack Kirby, he’ll be our hostage negotiator if things go south.’
