G.M. Ford-No Man's Land

we are holding one hundred sixty- three hostages. Starting at eighteen hundred tonight, I’m going to shoot one of them every six hours until Frank Corso is delivered to me.” The handheld camera shimmied, but the voice never lost its tone of command and the hooded black eyes never wavered. The picture rolled once, then the screen went blank. Gover- nor James Blaine looked back over his shoulder at Warden Elias Romero.An unasked question hung in the air like artillery smoke. “His name is Timothy Driver,” Romero said. “He’s a transfer from the State of Washington. Doing life without . . . for double aggravated murder.”