Enjoy this next chapter.
Chapter 4: Dialogue
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When dealing with people, remember you are not dealing with creatures of logic, but creatures of emotion.
- Dale Carnegie -
~o~
Back at NCIS, Tony and Ziva had been through the tapes with Abby, staring so intently at the screens until they ended up cross-eyed, but at least they'd managed to narrow the faces down to the happy few still being held in ER.
Next, they'd each crept behind their own workstations to delve into the ID's and running backgrounds of the remaining people.
After a while, Ziva pushed her chair back and got up to stand in front of Tony's desk.
"Okay. Done. When you're ready, we can compare notes, yes?"
"Yep." Tony walked from behind his desk and joined her to face the big flat screen. He clicked the remote and a couple of open screens from his desktop popped up.
They both stared at the various screens for a while.
"Okay, I think we can dismiss the medical personnel, I guess. They've had more than enough opportunities to react as our Malcolm X had."
Ziva nodded.
"And after the background checks, the others mostly seem run of the hill average people."
"Run of the mill, Ziva. Mill."
From the way she didn't pursue the matter, protesting as she usually did, Tony could tell she was also shaken by the turn tonight's events had taken. One moment, they'd all been like a bunch of carefree friends enjoying a night on the icerink; the next...
"Besides, one of them obviously isn't just run of the mill, Ziva." He turned angrily towards her and pointed the clicker at the screen.
"One of them's so screwed up he's set up a hostage situation! And my friend who needs medical help is one of them!"
"He's also my friend, Tony." Ziva answered quietly. "But right now, he's a Special Agent as well as our best chance of bringing this to an end without causing casualties."
Tony looked at her for a long time it almost was disconcerting. It was so uncharacteristic for him to act so...brooding.
"Yeah... None better than him to be understanding enough to get a rapport with...our man."
He tapped his teeth and looked pensively at the faces again.
"There's a doctor, a nurse, what looks like an intern, a medical secretary, a child and her mom, two men and a woman plus...Tim...as patients. Those are the ones still remaining inside. How-e-verrr..." He sprang into action and strode to the elevator.
"What?" Ziva asked, throwing her hands in the air, irritated by his sudden secretiveness.
"What motive would get a person desperate enough to takes hostages in a hospital?"
Ziva's eyes lit up in understanding.
"Exactly." Tony grinned, stepping into the car, closely followed by an excited Ziva.
When they arrived at Abby's lab, they were taken aback by the lack of loud music.
"Abby. Would there be a way of finding out about medical errors and the link with one Malcolm? We're not sure that's our guys real name, but it's a start. "
"Well, I coud go over their database and the medical error reporting system. Have you any idea how many medical errors there have been reported? Only the reported ones? The mind boggles at the sheer magnitude of how many are left out! Those either covered up or simply unknown!"
"That all you can give us? Now we're disappointed."
"To-nyyyy! I've got my programs running for this specific case. Now, shoo! Out! I need to concentrate. You'll know when I got something."
The two agents wisely removed themselves from her domain and went back upstairs, hoping they could still glean more information pertaining to the case.
"Ziva. Tony. I got a name! Guy's Malcolm Cooper! And here's his personal story! We're dealing with a pretty desperate man, guys."
- -.-. -. . .
Everybody in the room had been listening with bated breath. What they'd heard was too sad for words.
How was he going to deal with this?
Tim shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and index. God! This whole business was just draining him emotionally as well as physically.
Malcolm spread his arms and looked at the silent audience.
"Don't you see? They'll always get away with it! I want to see them pay for this! They took my baby away! You hear?" He was raising his voice by now.
Tim raised his head and looked straight in Malcolm's eyes.
"Your little son – what about him? He needs his dad, you know? If you keep this up, you'll end up in jail as any ordinary criminal. Is that what you want? Do you think you will help him by doing this? Surely this is not the way you want your little kid to remember you?"
"I had dreams for Naomi!" Tears coursed down the man's face as his eyes took a distant look.
From the corner of his eyes, Tim noticed the men share looks. He recognized the signs and he didn't like it one bit. Of all the things he needed now, men playing the hero wasn't one of them. He had to nip it in the bud.
How to attract their attention?
Ah! No need; they were looking at him. Probably hoping he would play along with whatever they were planning. But plans in such a crisis tend to backfire. He couldn't risk this and didn't understand how those two men didn't see the senselessness in this either.
The last thing he wanted was the hostages trying to fight. Too many times, history had shown that, when that happened, the hostage takers had lost their cool and started shooting. No. This was not an option at all as the men's unthought action would put them all at risk and where would he stand then? Provided he didn't die in the ensuing scuffle! A lot more could be accomplished with conversation, understanding, to get everybody out of this situation alive.
But, as things stood now, too much could go wrong, so he gave the men an almost imperceptible shake of his head. With a slight widening of his eyes he willed them to stay calm and let him handle it further.
Malcolm continued as if he hadn't noticed a thing. "She was the daintiest little thing...looking so cute in her pink ballet tutu. Teacher told us she was a natural. So sweet and innocent... Because of them, I won't be making snow angels with my baby ever again... They took that away from me!"
That brought his anger back to the surface. "My little girl!" He cried out, his voice breaking. "A stupid, ordinary appendicitis! What could go wrong with such a simple routine! In a state-of-the-art facility?"
A movement caught his eye and he swerved the fire arm in that direction. "I said no funny business!" He cocked the gun.
The little girl beside Tim, clung to her mother. Her little face was flushed and her eyes looked old in the young face. Looked like the kid was running a bad fever.
Crap. Tim thought tiredly as he was suddenly and painfully reminded of the reason some of them were here.
"Hey you!" Malcolm wiggled the gun as he motioned to one of the men at the far end. "Face down on the floor! Now!"
"Oh God!" Dr. Morse mumbled in shock and looked at his patient. "This is bad. This is so bad..."
Tim had to do something. This standoff was taking too long. He took in the other captives. The man's becoming volatile. Can't have that happen, now.
He held up his hand trying to catch the man's eye. Too much all consuming sadness lodged in there. He blinked to clear that thought from his mind. Focus, McGee. Focus.
"Malcolm. What do you really want? Are you trying to exact revenge for the death of Naomi? It won't bring her back to you, you know?"
With a pang, his attention was attracted by the little girl letting out a small whimper as she lay curled up to her mother's side who had her arms protectively wrapped around her.
Licking his dry lips, he went on. "Or do you want us to re-investigate the circumstances of her..." He couldn't continue. The death of a beloved child always hit hard. He truly had no idea how he himself would behave if this happened to him. So he tried to put himself in Malcolm's place. Perhaps this was not the cleverest thing to do, but this was him.
He would be devastated, too. There was no telling how he would react.
What would he do? Demand justice? How? More importantly, in what way would he like to see it done?
One of the men groaned. Hm. Another one whose pain meds were starting to wear off.
Thinking of which...his own pain was getting worse and he was becoming increasingly lightheaded. He couldn't last much longer, he knew, before exhaustion and his injuries would let him slip into dark oblivion.
But he wasn't thinking of rushing things. Not yet.
However, he sensed he was getting through to the man. If only he could get the man as far as to surrender himself? The man needed help. This much was sure.
Seconds dragged as Tim thought about what to say to make Malcolm see the senselessness of his actions.
"Timothy..."
He opened his eyes. He hadn't realized they'd fallen shut.
Now he peered through half lidded eyes at the captor.
"Please, Malcolm. Think. There are people here who need medical help. This little girl..." His words came in a shaky whisper, all strength leaving him. "Look at this little girl. Would you really deprive her of the chance to make snow angels? How about your little son, Davy? Wouldn't he love to have that chance, too?"
"Stop it! I know what you're doing!" Malcolm shouted.
The phone rang and everything waited for him to answer it but he made no move towards it. He just let it ring. He brought his hands to his ears to block out the noise until it stopped, leaving a deafening silence in its wake.
"This girl has a fever, Malcolm. Don't you want her to get better?" Drops of sweat ran into his eyes and he ran his hand across his face, furiously blinking to clear his eyes.
"Shut up! Just...just shut up!"
"I know you don't want this, Malcolm. You're a father. You loved Naomi, but please don't taint the image you have of her by this.
"I said enough!" He raised his gun till it aimed it directly at Tim.
He was sobbing and his hand was wavering.
"We can get us all out of this. You too. Trust me, Malcolm.
Tim pushed himself more upright and looked deep into Malcolm's eyes. He knew he was taking a whale of a risk, but as long as he had the man's undivided attention, the others stood a better chance.
He was scared but the adrenaline rush gave him strength.
"Let us help you, Malcolm. If we can end this peacefully, the charges won't be half that bad for you. You haven't hurt anybody so you still stand a good chance."
"That won't get me my little baby back!"
"No, it won't. True. But you still have Davy."
The man was shaking and crying. "What have I done! Oh Lord! What have I done!"
Tim grimaced as he felt another stab of pain in his gut.
Trying to keep his voice controlled and confident at the same time, he kept on talking soothingly to the man.
"Please let the other hostages go. We can still talk a little longer – just the two of us - and try to figure out what can be done for you. There has to be a solution. Everything can be fixed." He was panting and closed his eyes for a few seconds when he had a dizzy spell. He continued. "This, isn't the way to do this. Trust me, Malcolm: this really isn't the solution to your problems."
His speech had now turned into a whisper. "Please, let this be over soon," he thought, panic rising.
"STOP IT!" Malcolm yelled and pulled the trigger.
Tim flinched and shut his eyes tightly in preparation for the impact.
He had failed...miserably...
Such...was his last thought...
...and a wee cliffhanger put in at the end of this chapter for good measure. ;D