by Alex Lukeman
"No toilet."
"Please." She moved on the floor as if in discomfort. It was suggestive, a movement someone with sex on his mind would think inviting.
"I really need to go," she said, her voice husky. "Can't you take me?"
Next to her, the ambassador whispered, "What are you doing?"
Selena ignored her. "Please?" she said again. She smiled at the man as she said it and moved her hand to her chest, under her breasts.
A crooked smile appeared on his face. "Come," he said. He gestured with his AK. Selena stood up.
"Where are you going?" Omar strode over.
"This one needs the toilet. She looks like she's getting ready to piss all over the floor."
Omar laughed. "Take her." He gave his man a careful look. "Don't be too long," he said.
"Come," the man said to Selena. He grabbed her arm with his left hand and pulled her toward the hall where the restrooms were. She made no resistance. The other hostages watched them go.
They went past the body of a dead Marine. Flies were buzzing over his open mouth. His eyes stared at the ceiling. Selena felt cold anger wash through her.
The restrooms were at the other end of a long hall, next to a staircase leading to the upper floors. The terrorist kept a grip on her arm and kicked open the door to the restroom with his foot. He pulled her inside the room after him.
"What's your name?" she said. She made her voice husky, inviting.
"Gibril." He licked his lips. His rifle pointed at the floor.
She moved close to him, smiling. Then she stomped down on his foot. Gibril wore sandals, but Selena had shoes with hard, flat heels. She felt the bones of his foot crunch under her shoe. Gibril howled in pain. Reflex made him double over and reach for his foot. Selena brought both her hands down on the back of his neck and brought her knee up under his chin. She heard bone crack. The rifle clattered against the tile floor and Gibril fell in a lifeless heap. She leaned over and felt for a pulse just to be sure.
The embassy had been built in a day when expensive materials were used for important buildings. The walls of the bathroom were thick stone, the door made of solid mahogany. It was like being in a soundproof room. No one outside would have heard Gibril yell.
Selena picked up the rifle. She pulled the bolt partway back to make sure it was charged. She flipped the safety off and cracked open the door. The hall was empty. She slipped out of the bathroom and started up the stairs to the roof.
CHAPTER 24
Nick and the others moved to the corner of the building and used the shrubbery between the back wall of the embassy and the Chancery as cover. They crawled past the blown out windows of the ballroom. Nick got a glimpse of the hostages sitting against a wall. He looked for Selena but didn't see her.
They made it to the south wall without being seen. The tree they needed to climb rose above the roof line. It looked like a short leap from the branches to the flat roof.
"Nick, where are you?" It was Selena's voice over the link.
"Getting ready to climb a tree."
"I'm free. There isn't much time before they know I'm gone. I'm heading to the roof."
"Got it," Nick said. "Meet you there."
Lamont had already started up the trunk with Ronnie right behind. Nick looked at the tree. The last time he'd climbed a tree, he'd been twelve years old. It was a big oak tree in their backyard. It was his refuge, the place he went to when his father came home drunk. If he could get out of the house without being noticed, he'd climb the tree and wait until the shouting stopped and his father passed out.
Then one night his sister ratted him out, one of her many betrayals. His father had beaten the hell out of him and the next day he'd cut down the tree. Nick had never forgiven her.
He started up the trunk after Ronnie. By the time he got level with the roof, Ronnie and Lamont were already over. Nick leapt and landed hard. Pain shot up his back from the jump injury he'd gotten in the Himalayas.
Ronnie saw him wince. "You all right?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." Nick ignored the pain and looked around. "Over there."
They moved to the door that led down into the building. Nick tried it. It was locked. Then he heard the lock click and the door swung open. Selena stood there, holding an AK.
"Took you long enough," she said. "We'd better hurry. They must've missed me by now."
"How do you want to play it?" Ronnie asked Nick.
"Once they figure out Selena is missing, they'll send people after her. If we can get their weapons we'll be in better shape."
"I can be bait," Selena said. "If they see me they won't shoot. They'll want to know what happened to Gibril."
"Who's Gibril?"
"This used to be his rifle."
"They see you with that, they won't ask questions." Ronnie rubbed a knuckle across his nose.
"Here." Selena handed him the AK. "Give me your pistol."
Ronnie took the rifle and handed over his Sig.
"We have to keep it quiet," Nick said. "They hear shots, they'll all come running."
Ronnie reached up behind his neck and pulled a throwing knife from a scabbard concealed under his shirt. The blade was about eight inches long, razor sharp and double-edged. It was a thing of lethal beauty, swelling out in a smooth curve and then tapering to a graceful point. The handle was a checkered extension of the surgical steel blade.
"I forgot you carried that," Nick said.
"Just get me reasonably close," Ronnie said.
"We'll clear each floor as we go," Nick said. "Most of the bad guys are going to stay down on the ground floor with the hostages. A little luck, we'll take a few out before they know what's happening."
"I'll go first," Selena said. "They're looking for me, they won't be surprised if they see me."
"They'll probably send two men. Where did you leave the guy who used to have this rifle?"
"In the bathroom on the ground floor. It's right next to the stairs."
"They could use the stairs or there's an elevator. I'd use the stairs."
"We walk out into the open, there's no way we're going to keep this quiet." Ronnie rubbed a knuckle across his large nose.
"We'll try to keep it quiet but we can't mess around. If you have to shoot, do it."
"What I'm saying, maybe Selena can draw them into a room."
"Where we're waiting for them." Nick finished the thought.
"Yep."
"Might work. I like it." He turned to Selena. "What do you think?"
"If they don't shoot first, it could work. But we'd better hurry."
Without waiting for an answer, she started down the stairs.
Nick cracked open the heavy fire door to the third floor, enough to see into the hallway beyond. There was no one there. The door opened onto a wide, carpeted hallway. The carpet was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, it muffled their footsteps. On the other, it would be hard to hear anyone approaching.
This part of the embassy consisted of offices, a large storage area, a radio room and a suite that could serve as guest quarters for VIPs. It was very quiet. There were doors for each room, most of them open. An old, cage-type elevator shaft with a black lattice gate was set in the middle of the hall. Cables hung down the shaft. The sudden whine of machinery broke the silence. The cables in the shaft began moving.
"Guess they didn't want to walk," Lamont said.
"They're coming here. It's what I'd do, work from the top down." Nick looked at the open doors along the hall. "This one will do."
They stepped into an office. Gold letters on the door announced Alan De Witt, second commercial attaché.
"Second attaché," Ronnie said. "Probably the spook's lair."
The office was in the front of the building. From the window Nick could see Roxas Boulevard and the Marines and vehicles below. If he were in command, he'd have a Marine sniper looking for potential targets. He stepped back from the window. No point in getting mistaken for a terrorist.
De Witt
's desk was large and solid. A row of locked filing cabinets took up most of one wall. An old-fashioned carved wooden wardrobe made of thick, dark mahogany stood by the door.
Outside the office, the clanking sound of the elevator stopped. They heard the lattice gate open, the sound of metal pieces banging together.
Nick signaled with his hand. Lamont ducked down behind the desk, Ronnie to one side of the door, Nick to the other, past the wardrobe. Nick nodded at Selena.
She put Ronnie's pistol into her waistband, behind her back and took a breath. She stepped part way into the hall as if she wasn't sure what to do. She made sure that her hands were visible and empty.
See? I'm unarmed.
Two of the terrorists stood in front of the elevator. They carried AKs. One of them shouted at her and raised his rifle. She ducked back into the office. Nick signaled her to the window. She drew the pistol and held it out of sight behind her back, just in case.
One of the terrorists called out. "You, woman, you come out now. We not hurt you."
Selena said nothing.
"You come out, or we come in." There was menace in the man's voice.
"Don't hurt me," she called. She made her voice sound frightened. If she had been in the hallway, she would have seen one of the men smile at the other. It was not a good smile.
"We not hurt," the man said.
He walked toward the office door. His companion laid a hand on his arm, a gesture of caution. The first man shrugged it off. It was only a woman. When he came to the door he paused and glanced in. He saw Selena standing in front of the window. She had her left hand held out in front of her, palm out, as if she could ward him away. She looked helpless. The Sig was in her right, behind her back.
He walked into the room, his comrade close behind. He only had time to sense movement through the air before Ronnie's knife buried itself in the side of his neck.
Even the best trained soldier takes time to react when everything goes wrong. It took the second man an instant to realize what had happened.
It was an instant too long.
Nick came at him and drove his elbow into the man's neck. He put everything he had into it, grunting as the blow landed. There was a dull, wet crunch and the terrorist collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. His feet thrashed against the floor and he made gargling, choking noises. His face turned red as he gasped for air. After a minute he stopped moving.
It had taken no more than twenty seconds to kill both of them.
"Take the guns," Nick said. "Selena, you said there were twelve, is that right?"
"Yes. Three less, now."
"Better odds, but still too many. We start shooting, hostages are going to get killed. We need to come up with a plan. "
"The leader's crazy," Selena said. "You can see it in his eyes. I think he doesn't care. He'll blow up the building and kill everyone if he thinks the game's over."
"We need a distraction," Nick said. "Something to get his attention, confuse him."
A gunshot echoed through the building. They looked at each other.
"I think they just shot another hostage," Selena said.
A second shot sounded, louder than the first, then a third.
"Shit," Ronnie said.
"That didn't sound like an AK or a pistol," Nick said.
"It was right below us," Lamont said.
Nick picked up one of the AKs. Lamont took the other.
"They don't need these anymore." He checked to see if it was loaded.
"Let's go see," Nick said.
CHAPTER 25
Ahmed entered an office on the second floor of the embassy, carrying the heavy rifle. A window faced out on Roxas Boulevard. Careful to stay out of sight, he opened the window a few inches to make room for the SV-98. He rested the end of the barrel on the sill and looked through the scope on the scene of ordered chaos below.
U.S. Marines were deployed along the fence bordering the embassy grounds. Ahmed recognized the uniforms. They had chosen their positions carefully, but not carefully enough. He had a choice of several shots. With luck, he might get two or even three before they located him.
The SV-98 was a bolt action rifle. For some that would make getting off two or three fast shots impossible but Ahmed could do it. He'd practiced making a series of quick, accurate shots. The key lay in picking targets that were close together.
Ahmed knew he probably would not leave the building alive. It was of little concern to him. His life was in the hands of God. Insha'Allah, he would escape to fight another day. In the meantime he would do his best to kill infidels.
There were two Humvees with .50 caliber machine guns parked beyond the embassy gates. Ahmed made an adjustment on his telescopic sight. Two men came into sharp focus, standing beyond the vehicles. They were talking. One of them was a sergeant.
Ahmed made a quick visual sweep of the street below. No one was paying any attention to him. No one was paying attention to the open window. The blast grills on the outside helped shield him from sight. The two men were still talking.
Ahmed slipped off the safety and focused on the target. He took a breath and let half of it out. His body became still and the rifle settled on the aim point. He touched the trigger. The shot blasted through the afternoon air and the man's head disappeared in a cloud of blood and bone. With practiced motion, Ahmed worked the bolt as he moved the rifle to the left and brought the scope to bear. The second man was staring down in shock at the body of his comrade. Ahmed pulled the trigger again. The Marine fell from sight.
Ahmed stepped back from the window just as one of the Humvees opened up. The .50 caliber rounds blasted into the building, chewing away the window and frame, exploding against the stone exterior, slamming into the far wall of the room. Outside, someone shouted a command. As suddenly as it had begun, the hail of bullets ceased.
Ahmed ejected the spent casing and loaded two fresh rounds. He shot the bolt home and clicked on the safety. He left the room to look for another perch.
Next time I get an officer, he thought.
He decided the top floor might give him a better angle of attack, open up new lines of sight. Ahmed walked toward the stair door at the end of the hall. He pulled the door open and Ronnie drove his knife between Ahmed's ribs. Ahmed's mouth opened to scream. The sound died in a strangled gush of blood. The rifle fell from his hand and clattered to the floor. For the few seconds of life left to him, Ahmed stared unbelieving at the man who had killed him. Then his eyes rolled up and he fell.
Ronnie pulled out his knife and wiped the blade on Ahmed's shirt.
"Leaves eight, now."
Lamont bent down and picked up the rifle. "SV-98. This is what we heard," he said. "This guy's a sniper."
"Was," Nick said. "Was a sniper. Lamont, you want to take that and give your AK to Selena?"
Lamont handed her his rifle and picked up the SV-98. He opened the bolt partway and saw that a round was loaded. He closed the bolt and flicked off the safety.
Nick looked down at Ahmed's body. "We're running out of time. The rest of them are going to start wondering about their buddies pretty soon."
"Unless they've been moved, all the hostages are in the ballroom in the back," Selena said. "There's a hall leading to it. The doors to the room are wide open. If we can get there we'd have a good field of fire. The hostages are sitting down. Only the terrorists are standing. It's easy to see who they are."
"Risky," Nick said.
"You have a better idea?"
"What about the charges they set?" Ronnie asked.
Nick said, "Did you see how they were wired, Selena?"
"They have a car battery wired up to one of those T-handle detonators like you see in the movies. The wires run from there to the main entrance, the foyer and the back room."
"Weapons?"
"All I saw were AKs. The leader has a pistol."
Nick thought a moment. "We don't have a lot of choices. If the leader is crazy like Selena says, he might do something st
upid when he realizes his comrades are getting killed."
"Like blow up the embassy," Lamont said.
"Yeah. Like that. We'll do it Selena's way. We get to the ballroom and take them out. Assume anyone standing up is a hostile. Selena, where's that detonator?"
"Against the right wall, in the far corner of the room."
"Ronnie, you make that your priority. Make sure no one gets to use it. Lamont, you have the rifle with the scope. If you can get a clean shot, you take out whoever is nearest to the hostages. As soon as you can, get rid of that and grab an AK."
"Okay."
"Selena, you and I will take out as many as we can once the shooting starts."
She nodded.
"Any questions?"
"How do we get to the ballroom?" Ronnie said.
Selena wiped sweat away from her forehead with the back of her hand. "The door at the bottom of the stairs leads to a hall. That leads to a gallery that runs between the front of the building and the ballroom. The ballroom is on the left as you come out of the hall."
They followed Nick down the stairs to the ground floor. He opened the door a crack, enough to see into the hall. It was empty. Once they left the stairwell they'd be exposed, with no cover. The hallway could turn into a shooting gallery, with themselves as targets.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," Ronnie said.
Nick's ear began itching. It always did, when things were about to get difficult. His own early warning system, a psychic inheritance from his Irish grandmother. He reached up to scratch it.
"Let's do it," he said.
They moved in single file down the hall. Selena felt the adrenaline charge she loved and hated, an electric mix of excitement and fear. It made her feel alive. It gave her a high more exciting than anything else she'd ever experienced. Even jumping out of a plane didn't produce the same rush.
They made it to the end of the hall without being seen. Voices sounded around the corner from the direction of the ballroom.
"Him," a voice said. "Stand him up and bring him over to the camera. It's time."
"No!" someone said, a man.
Selena whispered. "That's the leader talking. They're going to shoot another hostage."
