Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Chimaera ❯ Chapter 112 ( Chapter 112 )

Please see previous chapters for notes, disclaimers etc.

 

"Chimaera"

 

October. 2003 ShenLong

 

 

Chapter 112

 

[Glasshouse Basement]

 

Wufei brought the jeep to a smooth halt and cut the engine. The agents sat there for a moment and looked around. The place was deserted. Hopping out, they gave one final check over the com units, double checked their equipment and then entered the basement. The noise inside after the eerie silence outside came as a shock to both of them. The air conditioning unit throbbed and hummed as it processed the cool air around the fifteen storeys of the Glasshouse.

 

"Pity we can't turn it off," shouted Wufei above the noise.

 

Heero nodded in agreement. It certainly would have made life a lot easier if they could shut the machine down but to do so would alert the terrorists to something going on and the last thing they needed was to arouse suspicion. No, the unit had to remain on. Heero consoled himself with the thought that at least they wouldn't overheat while in the ducts. Wufei's mind must have been working on the same wavelength as his next comment brought a smile to Heero's face.

 

"At least we won't fry."

 

"You got that right. We will probably be a pair of snowmen by the time we reach the target point," replied Heero.

 

Chang gave something that sounded like a chuckle before he removed his screwdriver and began to unscrew the panel on the large tube that led from the unit into the ducting system and fed the building with cool air.

 

"Agent Day to Mother Earth. You copy?"

 

"Mother Earth here. Status?"

 

"In the basement and preparing to enter duct."

 

"Good."

 

"Any further contact with the target?"

 

"Not as yet. Negotiator is with me now and we will be setting up base outside the Glasshouse in five. New information may be coming to hand very shortly."

 

"New information?" Heero asked.

 

"Negotiator suggested contacting the television company. They may be able to give us an ID on one of the terrorists."

 

Heero gave a low whistle. "Good idea."

 

"I have the team back at HQ working on it now. Once I have further information I will contact you."

 

"Roger that."

 

"Mother Earth, out."

 

"Agent Day, out." Heero turned to where Wufei was removing the last screw from the panel. "You get that, Chang?"

 

"Yes. If we can get a name then the intelligence guys might be able to pick something up on this group. It would help a lot to know what we're dealing with." Wufei shifted and grasped the panel. With a bit of resistance he managed to pull it free and set it to the side. "Ready?"

 

"All systems go," replied Heero. As they both slipped on their magnetic gloves and soles, Heero couldn't help but think of his husband. His heart ached with longing and he hoped that Duo was all right. He knew Trowa would do everything in his power to look after him, but nature was a funny thing and Heero couldn't help the cold feeling of dread that seemed determined to lodge itself in his gut.

 

"Let's get this show on the road," muttered Wufei. "You have a birth to attend." Chang gave his partner's shoulder a squeeze.

 

Heero offered a small smile in return. "Thanks." Turning back to the open duct, Heero placed his hands on either side and hauled himself up and inside, Wufei right behind him. He turned his flashlight on and began to task of crawling through the ducts as quickly and silently as he could, the blueprints clear in his head; along with a pair of violet eyes.

 

* * *

 

[Preventer HQ Intelligence]

 

"Yes, thank you, you've been most helpful." Alder cut the connection to the television station and looked at his assembled crew of intelligence officers. "Right. Here's what we have. The station said they received a 'phone call from a guy who called himself Jackson, saying he had a bunch of people held hostage in the Glasshouse. They're sending through a transcript of the call. Based on the information we have from their demands it's a safe bet to say that this group is somehow connected with the former OZ alliance from the war."

 

"We know that already," said one of the officers as he ran a hand through his hair. He was tired, hell, they were all tired but they had a job to do.

 

Alder turned to look at the officer. "Maybe now though with a name we can find out some background information. Listen up people. We have military as well as politicians being held hostage. Two people are already dead, which means these guys are deadly serious. We have two agents infiltrating the building and the more information we can give them on this group the better it's going to be for them. So, what are you waiting for? Move it, people. Thompson, you start scouring the military records from OZ. Benson, you get the transcript and break it down, see if you can find any clue in there that will give us more background on these guys. Roberts, there is a voice file of the transcript coming through, I want you to see if you can match it with any Jackson found by Thompson in the records. Are we clear, people?"

 

"Yes, sir!" came the chorus of voices.

 

"Then get to it!" The officers all turned and scurried to their task. Alder fetched himself a cup of thick, black coffee. He was going to need the caffeine to keep him going. He hoped and prayed they would be able to find something to help the agents currently risking their lives to save those of the hostages.

 

* * *

 

[Outside the Glasshouse]

 

As Une approached the Glasshouse so she could see the crowds of people gathered around. "Vultures," she muttered under her breath and brought the vehicle to a crawl, working her way slowly through the crowd that seemed reluctant to part and let the car through. Eventually she came to a stop by a road block and wound down her window as the police officer approached.

 

"I'm afraid you will have to turn around and go back. No admittance beyond this point," the officer said.

 

"Commander Une from Preventer," snapped Une as she showed the officer her badge.

 

"Ah. Ma'am. Yes, Ma'am. Please, wait one moment and I'll move the barrier." The poor officer was clearly flustered at meeting the head of the Preventer organization and found his fingers all turned to thumbs as he wrestled with the road block. Eventually he managed to shift it and allow the car to pass through. He replaced it as the vehicle passed and then wiped his brow.

 

Une glanced around and spotted the Preventer transport van; she swung the car around and parked next to it. The agents had set up a base 'camp' and were milling around awaiting their next orders. Seeing the commander arrive they all hastily tried to find something to do. Une exited the car and spoke to Agent Winter.

 

"Agents Fire and Day have entered the building and proceeding as planned. Devlin here has a hunch that we may glean some information from the television company as they had a call from one of the terrorists. Intelligence is working on that now and I hope to have a result from them shortly."

 

"Right."

 

"The body of the hostage that fell from the window, do you know where it is? Where it has been taken?" asked Une.

 

"No, I'm assuming the police have removed it and it is on its way to the coroner's office," replied Winter.

 

"Send a couple of agents to find out what happened to the body and anything else, such as identification, bullet type and the like, and report any information back here immediately. I shouldn't have to tell you that every scrap of information, no matter how small, could mean the difference between success and failure here. I have two of my best agents in there and I intend to get them both back alive and uninjured."

 

"Yes, Ma'am." Winter turned and went to his assembled group. Quickly he barked orders out and two agents left, heading for the police contingent. Winter also sent another pair of agents to speak with the television crew; it couldn't hurt to grill them as well.

 

Une gave an audible sigh as she looked up at the building. Somewhere in there Yuy and Chang were making their way to the hostages. She had complete faith in the pair, not doubting their skills at all. She could only hope this would all end quickly and without bloodshed. / Might as well piss in the ocean and wait for the tide to rise. / She thought to herself.

 

"Commander?"

 

Une turned around at the sound of her name being called. "Yes, Devlin?"

 

"Any word from intelligence yet? Time is pushing on and we need to contact these people very soon if we wish to avoid further killing."

 

Before Une could reply her com unit beeped. She raised a hand to Devlin and pressed the small receive button. "Mother Earth here."

 

Devlin waited patiently while Une took the call. He could tell from her facial expressions and tone of her voice it was intelligence and that the information she was getting wasn't all to her liking. After a couple of minutes the commander disconnected and turned to face the negotiator.

 

"We have a little more to work with, not much, but it could help."

 

"Tell me," demanded Devlin, "then I can contact the terrorists."

 

"The call to the television station was made by a man calling himself Jackson. He claims to want the release of OZ officials incarcerated for war crimes, crimes he says they are innocent of. Intelligence has gone through OZ files and managed to track this man down. The voice from the recording matches the identity of a one Samuel Jackson, thirty eight years old. He served the OZ faction during the war, firstly in explosives and then as a sniper. He was also involved in carrying out many operations to bring about the downfall of Romefeller."

 

Devlin whistled through his teeth.

 

"Yes, he's one intricate piece of work and I don't doubt for a minute his skills," stated Une.

 

"Right. I'll call him up and have a bit of a chat. How trigger happy do you think he is?"

 

"Judging by the two casualties so far I'd say he's pretty ecstatic. Be careful, Devlin, I don't want anymore dead if I can help it."

 

"Yes, commander." Devlin reached into his pocket for the palm top and his cell 'phone. He called up the number Une had given him and punched it into his cell. The number began to ring.

 

* * *

 

[Air Conditioning Duct]

 

Heero pulled himself along yet another seemingly endless hollow of duct. They had been crawling through these small ducts for a good fifteen minutes now. Surprisingly, they had been fairly wide and so progress was moving rapidly. He calculated they should now be on the fifth floor and at the end of this passage there should be the next upward climb. The magnetic additions were proving their weight in gold as far as Heero was concerned. Their progress had been improved by the additions and Heero made a mental note to let the guys back in the lab know how well they had worked.

 

"Status?" Wufei's voice came softly through the metallic tunnel.

 

"Should be another fifty feet and then the vertical shaft."

 

"Good."

 

They continued their crawl and shortly arrived at the interconnecting duct. Pausing for a moment, Wufei took out a small palm top and punched in a code, instantly the building's maze of air ducts came on the tiny screen. Heero took a quick look and confirmed his mental position. They were at the shaft that would take them up to the sixth floor.

 

"Halfway," said Heero softly.

 

"Yes." Wufei took a look at his watch. "Let's see if we can get through this next lot a little quicker."

 

"Roger that." Heero began to move into the upright shaft, trusting the magnetic soles and gloves to do their job.

 

They had both just begun the climb upwards when the com units crackled into life.

 

"Mother Earth here. Agents Day and Fire, do you copy?"

 

"Agent Fire. I copy."

 

"Agent Day. I copy."

 

"New information to hand. Head terrorist's name is Jackson. Former OZ member and a specialist in explosives."

 

"Just as well we didn't take the stairs then," muttered Heero.

 

"Also a sniper during the war. Was part of the group responsible for the downfall of Romefeller."

 

"It just keeps getting better and better," grumbled Wufei as he hauled himself up to the level six duct.

 

"He is familiar with intelligence and infiltration."

 

"Don't suppose she knows the color of his underpants do you?" Heero asked Wufei as they caught their breath from the climb before proceeding.

 

"I heard that, Agent Day."

 

Wufei snorted.

 

"He's a nasty customer. You will need to take him by surprise. The group he has with him are all crack shots and highly trained in combat."

 

"Roger that. Description?" asked Heero as he began to crawl through the duct system again.

 

"Five ten, dark haired, brown eyed, could be sporting a beard. Lean frame and a scar on the back of his right hand."

 

"Thanks. Fire out."

 

"Day, out."

 

"Be careful. Mother Earth, out."

 

The com units went quiet and the agents continued in their quest, each lost in analyzing the latest information.

 

* * *

 

[Inside the Glasshouse]

 

Jackson reached into his pocket to withdraw the cell 'phone that had begun to ring. "Yes?!"

 

Quatre's eyes flicked over to the terrorist and carefully watched the man's face for any sign of what the conversation could be about. Jackson, however, kept his face pretty neutral and walked over to the window.

 

With Jackson temporarily distracted, the Major moved to sit next to Quatre. One of the other terrorists trained his gun on the Major but lowered it when he saw the man sit down. "What do you think?" the Major whispered to Quatre.

 

Turning his gaze from Jackson to the Major, Quatre hesitated. Should he tell this man what he thought? Could he be trusted? Deciding he really didn't have much choice in the matter, Quatre lowered his head slightly and spoke in a hushed tone. "Preventer should be making some sort of attempt to subdue the terrorists and get us out."

 

"Ah." The Major knew better than to ask how Quatre would have this information. "Any idea how and when?"

 

"No. Not really sure. I'm guessing they will come in through the air conditioning ducts, but then I haven't a clue. It's the only way to make a surprise attack. Stairwells and elevators could be booby trapped, that leaves the roof and the windows."

 

The Major nodded slightly. That made sense. "If you're correct, what can we do to help?"

 

"I really don't know," replied Quatre. "It all depends on their plan of attack. I don't know if they're going to come in with guns blazing or chuck in a gas canister. I'd say our best bet when the shit hits the fan will be to go to ground, lie low and get behind whatever cover we can find."

 

"Logical," replied the Major.

 

"Try to pass word around among the rest that when any action starts to find cover and stay low." Quatre turned back to where Jackson seemed to be getting a little irate with his conversation.

 

"Will do," replied the Major and then sat back in his seat, trying to appear relaxed.

 

One of the terrorists eyed them warily from across the room and waved his gun as a form of intimidation. While the hostages hadn't been told they couldn't talk amongst themselves, the terrorist was beginning to get suspicious. Quatre gave him a lazy smile. The terrorist sneered. Quatre yawned.

 

"I don't give a shit!" yelled Jackson down the 'phone. "I'm getting sick and tired of hearing all this crap about procedure. You have fifteen minutes before the next hostage becomes a victim. You tell the bastards that are delaying this that I hope they have enough body bags... No, I won't release any of them and talk about this. You have my demands, surely you can understand plain English, it isn't that hard..."

 

Quatre could see that Jackson was becoming more and more agitated as the conversation went on.

 

"Release those whose names I've given you, send a chopper in to the roof and you will have your hostages released, unharmed... NO! You can fuck off, I won't release a single one of them until my demands are met. I don't give a shit about good will or any of that other crap..."

 

Quatre swallowed as Jackson turned around and began to pace. The other hostages watched with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity.

 

"You have my terms," said Jackson in a cold tone. "Ten minutes. If there is still no sign of my demands being met or an attempt to meet them then you will have another body on your hands." Jackson cut the call and turned to face to remainder of the group. His gun waved around as he eyed them off, his eyes cold and calculating.

 

"Who wishes to be the next to die for their country, hmmm?"

 

The group all turned away, cold shivers running the length of their spines.

 

Jackson's eyes alighted on Quatre and he gave a cruel smirk.

 

~ * ~

 

tbc....