Vance heard a sound outside the clean room, footsteps. Somebody was approaching, but not with a walk that suggested familiarity with the place.
This might turn out to be his hoped-for break. Maybe he was about to have a nice face-to-face with one of the terrorists. At last, an opportunity for some answers.
He slipped back against the wall next to the door, his wet clothes chilling him in the low temperature. But he sensed that things were about to warm up. The person behind the door paused for a second, then shoved it open. A box appeared, then a face. It was young and cocky.
"Don't even think about making a sound, asshole." He slapped his Walther against the guy's cheek, then yanked the Uzi from his leg holster and pulled him into the room. Next he kicked the door shut and shoved his new guest to the floor. The box he was carrying thumped down beside him.
In the glare of the fluorescents the "terrorist" looked like an aging graduate student, except he was wearing a Palestinian kaffiyeh. Vance ripped it away, rolled him over, and inserted the Uzi into his mouth. A metal barrel loosening the teeth, he knew, did marvels for a wiseguy's powers of concentration. That was one of the first lessons he'd picked up from the boys at ARM. And this one was no exception. He stared up, genuine terror in his eyes, and moaned.
"Speak English? Just nod."
He dipped his forehead forward, eyes still in shock.
"Good. Now we're going to play Twenty Questions. That's about the number of teeth you've got, so each time I get an answer I don't buy, one of them goes. And when we run out of teeth, you won't be able to talk any more, so I'll just blow your head off. Okay, how're we doing? We understand each other so far?"
He nodded again and gave an airless grunt.
"Great. Looks like we're on a roll. Now, how many more of your team is in there? Hold up fingers. Very slowly. I was never good at fast arithmetic."
His eyes were cloudy, but he managed to lift five fingers.
This guy is one of the new arrivals, Vance thought. I counted three of them. So that means two others are down here as well. Those first guys were the pros, but this kid barely knows which end of an Uzi to hold.
"Do they know you came back here?" He rattled the barrel of the Uzi around in his mouth, just to keep him focused.
Again he nodded, even more terrified.
Okay, he thought, we're going to have to make this a short chat.
"Are there hostages down here?"
Again the man nodded.
"How many?"
He just shrugged, clearly having no idea.
Well, Vance thought, maybe it's time to get this show on the road.
He slowly removed the barrel, then ripped off a portion of the kaffiyeh lying on the floor, balled it, and stuffed it into his mouth. Next he tore off a longer strip and tied it around his head, securing the gag. The eyes were still terrified.
"By the way," he said, "what's in the box?"
A new look of even-greater horror entered the eyes. He's really scared now, Vance thought. Interesting.
"Well, well, maybe we ought to take a look."
He reached over and opened the lid. There, nestled inside several layers of bubble-wrap, were what looked like large, oversized blue transistors.
Bingo, he thought, what have we here? Could it be these are the tickets to the upcoming show. This ain't chopped liver.
"Okay, pal, on your feet. We're going to get moving. Just you and me. And we're going to take along your little box of toys. You can tell me what they are later."
The young terrorist started to rise, gingerly.
"See that opening over there"-he pointed-"where the wires enter into the conduit? We're going through there, you first. You're about to have some experience in mountain climbing. The workout might do you good."
That was when the door opened.