The man kept silent vigilance from the balcony. He had warned Amir of the search party an hour ago and watched them leave quickly shortly afterward.  Now the roof was clear and none dared to approach. He smiled. There will be only one outcome from this day.

 

- 2 hours

 

Every eye in the room was locked on the man walking back and forth, muttering to himself. He made a slow, tight circle, stopping every few moments to stare at a group of monitors that was sitting on one of the artist's tables. As he made his circuit, his booted feet crunched over swag, books and other litter strewn over the floor. Even from where Hick and the others sat in a group, he could hear him talking to himself.

"Where are the trucks? Where are the reporters?" He stopped, looked at the screen then resumed pacing. "There must be more. Time is almost up."

"What do you think is going on," Hick muttered to River.

River's eyes watched the man as he curled his arms around Joselyn settled between his legs on the floor. Everyone in the room had been herded into the middle and all the furniture thrown carelessly against the walls. Every so often, a chair would shift, tumbling down the pile and making one of the hostages cry out in fear. Without taking his eyes off the leader, River answered. "I'm thinking they are keeping this quiet, not giving him the audience he craves. You heard him spilling his bilge earlier. He is looking for a big audience to watch this crapfest."

"God, I've got to pee," Annabeth muttered. "My bladder is ready to float off. You may want to back up, Hick. I'd hate to wash you down when it lets go."

She sat much like Joselyn did, back to his front with his legs cradled on either side. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed gently. "I'll see what I can do," he muttered into her ear. Scooting back, he slowly rose to his feet, his hands high in the air. "Excuse me."

One of the six men roving around the area hurried over, pointing his assault rifle at Hick. "Sit!" He screamed at him.

"We've been here for a couple of hours, and some of the ladies need a bathroom break. It's going to get smelly in here really fast if you don't let them go to the restroom."

He heard Annabeth mutter to Joselyn, "He's channeling Die Hard."

In answer, the man raised the gun and brought the butt down on Hick's shoulder. He hissed and doubled over as red sprouted in the area. "Sit down!"

"What's going on?" The leader hurried over as Hick dropped to his knees with his hands up.

"He says the women need to go to the bathroom."

The leader glared at Hick who knelt, boldly staring at the man with barely concealed hostility burning in his gaze. "It's about to get messy in here really fast," he said in an even tone. "Could you please let them take a break? I don't want to spend my last few hours smelling urine."

The leader touched the bloom of crimson darkening Hick's shirt. "What is this? Why are you bleeding?" He turned to the guard that had struck him. "What did you do? I told you to keep them quiet."

Hmmm. No trace of an accent.  The leader must be home grown. "It's nothing. I hurt myself a few days ago. I popped a stitch," Hick ground out.

The man pushed the neck of Hick's shirt aside, exposing a white bandage with blood in the middle. Letting it go, he stepped back.

"So about the bathroom?" Hick asked.

"Very well." The leader pointed to two of the guards. "Take them to the bathroom eight at a time."

Annabeth, Joselyn, and another six women walked ahead of the two terrorists out the only unlocked door and disappeared around the corner. Hick waited impatiently until they re-emerged several moments later. Likewise, another group was chosen and then a third.

When the fourth group returned, one of the women broke off and approached them. Dropping to the floor beside Annabeth, she watched the next group disappear. When they did, she turned to him and whispered. "I have something for you."

She looked up again and made sure no-one was paying attention to her before she continued in a low tone. "When I got to the bathroom, there was a man in there. I about had a heart attack when I opened the door, and he was squatting on the toilet. Thank God the guards stayed outside the door. He said his name was Toad and told me help is on the way. Then he showed me a picture of you on his phone and asked me to give you this." She pressed two small items into his hand. Hick looked down and saw they were mini earwigs like the ones they used on missions. That could only mean the team was here. Toad was able to alert them. There were no microphones, but at least he could hear what was going on.

"Thank you," he whispered back. "You're very brave to do this."

"Getting out of this alive that would be thanks enough." She grinned slyly. "Unless Toad's single?"

Hick chuckled which pulled the attention of the guard returning with another group of women. Carefully making his face a mask of indifference, he focused on the floor. After a moment, another group of women was taken.

"Yeah, he's single. After this is over, you should talk to him."

"Thanks, I'll do that."

The woman scooted off. Hick looked over at River and saw a quizzical look on his face. Glancing around to ensure no-one was looking, he tossed the second earwig over then stuffed his own into his ear. Relief flooded through him when he heard Wolf's voice.

"We've got eyes on you. Fist for no, flat for yes. Can you hear me clear?"

Both of the men flattened their palms to the floor.

"Good. Here's the plan."

Ten minutes later, the last of the women returned from their bathroom breaks. Starting from the other side, the terrorists rounded up a group of men and escorted them to the bathroom. There were far fewer men than women so he knew it wouldn't take as long. When it came to their turn, River and Hick stood and allowed themselves to be pushed unceremoniously through the door and into the utility hall. Once inside, Hick made his way to the enclosed stall, bypassing the row of urinals.

"Where are you going?" One of the terrorists asked in a harsh tone. He motioned toward the others standing at the urinals.

"Man, I had tacos for lunch, my stomach is churning. If you want me to lay tracks in the urinal, okay, but it would be easier and a lot cleaner in the toilet."

After a momentary hesitation, he nodded. "Be quick," he snapped then leaned against the row of sinks. Hick went to the last stall and entered, shutting the door behind. Bracing on the toilet he quietly lifted the lid to the tank, grateful they hadn't upgraded the bathrooms to the tankless commodes many places now favored. Just as Wolf promised, there was a plastic bag.

He made a rude noise with his tongue. "Ahh.. yeah, that's much better. Sorry guys, more room out than in."

Ignoring the chorus of groans and complaints, Hick opened the bag, took out the two Sigs, magazines and microphones. Stuffing the mics and extra magazines into his pocket, he tossed the bag back into the tank and recovered it. Sitting on the toilet lid, he made another farting noise, dragging it out as he slid the magazine into the base of each Sig and engaged the safety. Stuffing one of the weapons into the waistband on the side of his jeans, he put the second in his pocket and pulled his shirttail out of his jeans down over them. The two extra magazines went into his other pocket. He stood, flushed the toilet and opened the door. Hunching over slightly, he wrapped his arms around his stomach as if it were hurting and stumbled out of the stall. The terrorist's eyes swept over him until he stood at the sink, washing his hands then drying them. River stood beside him, washing his hands as well. They watched their guard via the mirror until he turned away. Quickly, Hick slid the pocketed Sig out and over to River who took it and pushed it into his pocket. Shuffling along with the others, the two followed the rest of the hostages back out to the floor. Hick felt better. His team was here, watching their six and they had each a weapon.

Now, if they can just keep the leader from blowing them all to hell and back.