"So tell me what you're thinking," he said. I told Dennis Coulter my plan... Ten minutes later, Captain Sheehan was shouting in my face that I was "worse than any motherfucking FBI asshole" he had ever dealt with. I guess I was a fast learner. Maybe I didn't even need the orientation classes I was missing at Quantico. Not if I was already the "king of the FBI assholes." Which was one way of saying that the Baltimore police didn't approve of my plan to defuse the situation with Detective Coulter. Even Mahoney had doubts. "I guess you're not real big on social and political correctness," he commented when I told him Captain Sheehan's reaction. "Thought I was; guess I'm not. Hope this works. It better work. I think they want to kill him, Ned." "Yeah. So do I. I think we're making the right call." "We?" I asked. Mahoney nodded. "I'm in this with you, podjo. No guts, no glory. It's a Bureau thing." Minutes later, Mahoney and I watched the Baltimore police very reluctantly pull back from the house. I had told Sheehan I didn't want to see a single blue uniform or SWAT coverall anywhere around. The captain had his idea of what constituted acceptable risks and I had mine. If they rushed the house, somebody would die for sure. If my idea failed, at least nobody would get hurt. Or, at least, nobody but me. I got back on the phone with Coulter. "The Baltimore police are out of sight," I told him. "I want you to come out, Dennis. Do it now. Before they get a chance to think about what just happened." He didn't answer at first, then said, "I'm looking around. All it takes is one sniper with a nightscope." I knew he was right. Didn't matter. We had one chance. "Come on out with your hostages," I told him. "I'll meet you on the front steps myself." He didn't say anything more, and I was pretty sure I'd lost him. I focused on the front door of the house and tried not to think about people dying here. C'mon, Coulter.