Free The Negotiator by Chris Taylor Page B

efforts.
    Banging the metal door of his locker shut, he made his way out to the squad room. Giving Redding a somber wave, he headed downstairs to meet Tom.
    * * *
    Andy saw the mob of people gathered around the front of the Nurses’ residence and grimaced. He counted half a dozen uniforms doing their best to keep the crowd at bay, but the officers seemed to be losing the battle as curious onlookers pushed closer and closer, seeking a better view of the scene unfolding above them.
    He didn’t know what it was about events like this that turned ordinary people into macabre spectators, where they seemed to get some sort of almost sick excitement by watching the unfolding drama. It never failed to stir his anger. A man’s life was in danger. It wasn’t a scene from a trashy Hollywood movie. It was real. One wrong move, one wrong word and it could all be over.
    “Andy, over here.” Tom beckoned him toward a uniformed officer. Stepping over the blue-and-white police tape that had been used to cordon off the area, he walked to where Tom and the other three negotiators had halted at the front of the building.
    “Andy, this is Senior Sergeant Harry Matthews. He’s stationed at St Leonards. Harry was the first on the scene.”
    The sergeant’s gray hair, weathered face and calm air of experience immediately gave Andy confidence. He stuck out his hand in greeting. “Pleased to meet you.”
    “Likewise. I understand you managed to keep our man from jumping last week. I’m glad you’re here.”
    Andy ducked his head in embarrassment. “Thanks.” Clearing his throat, he turned to the business at hand. “What can you tell me, Sergeant?”
    “Harry. Call me Harry, please.”
    Andy acknowledged the request with a nod. “How long’s he been up there?”
    “About half an hour or so, I think. The hospital staff noticed he was missing when he didn’t show up in the breakfast room. They searched the ward for a while and when they couldn’t find him, they called security.” He grimaced. “Someone spotted him up here.”
    Tom pursed his lips. “Has anyone been up there to talk to him?”
    “Not as far as I know. Certainly not since I arrived. I wanted to wait for you guys.”
    Andy shielded his gaze from the sun and looked toward the ninth floor. “You did the right thing. It was hard enough to talk him down last time. I’m glad you didn’t send a novice up there.” He turned back to Harry. “Does anyone know what set him off this morning?”
    “Nothing that anyone’s saying, but I read in the hospital notes he took a phone call last night from his wife.”
    “You’ve seen the notes?” Tom asked.
    “Yeah, for last night, anyway. I asked security to get me a copy. I have them right here, if you want to take a look.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a couple of sheets of paper and unfolded them.
    Andy indicated the hospital notes. “Anything else in there we need to know?”
    “Probably not. The only thing of interest was the call from the wife. The rest is just the usual medical jargon. He had an uneventful day and a pretty quiet night, apparently.”
    Andy grimaced. “Apparently.” He turned back to face the building. “Do we know the layout inside? Which room he’s near?”
    “According to the switchboard operator who mans the phones for the residents, there are elevators that stop at each floor. After exiting the elevator, you enter the floor via a set of doors that lead into a common room situated in the center of the building. The rooms branch off from there, down separate corridors that run the length of the building.”
    Andy nodded, frowning in concentration. With another brisk nod, he encompassed Tom, Craig, Sandy and Hugh in his gaze. “Okay, I’m going up.”
    “We’ll be right behind you.”
    Andy made his way into the building and over to the bank of elevators. He thought of the man perched precariously on a window ledge nine floors above him. The familiar rush of adrenaline