Epiphany Frosts: The Siege (part two)
Jan. 15th, 2007 11:12 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsThe siege continues. Nathan makes a call back to the States to talk to Angelo's mother, and then has a moody moment on the roof with Ororo. Scott finishes his deployment plan, putting Rogue in charge of a critical part, and then checks on Garrison, who's still deep in negotiations. Angelo tells Samie a little more about his life (and why he keeps answering the funny-looking phone as 'Sancho'). In the end, the negotiations are derailed, through no fault of Garrison's - it turns out that the Russians wanted it that way all along.
Nathan pulled the cell phone out of one of the bags brought from the Blackbird. The Russian police would possibly have some objections to him doing this, he thought as he dialed a particular one of the mansion's numbers, but it wasn't as if he was going to be giving away tactical details. And there were other considerations, here.
"Hello, Charles," he said in response to the voice that answered after the first ring. "Is she - thanks." He waited until he heard a soft, worried-sounding voice say hello. "Hello, Juanita."
Juanita was sitting in one of the parlours - she was staying in the mansion for the time being, so as to be in easier reach - absently stroking Joyita's head where the dog rested her chin on her knee. "Hello, Nathan," she answered quietly.
"He's all right." That was the first thing that needed saying, and the most important. "He wasn't in the conference hall when the other hostages were taken, and he managed to stay upstairs and out of sight." Nathan paused for a moment, wondering if he should... "Samie's with him. Samie Kander. I guess she's in Moscow for a vacation, and the two of them ran into each other."
She blinked, confused. "Samie? I don't... she's all right as well?"
"She's fine. They both are. Not a scratch on either of them." It couldn't hurt to reinforce that. "We're going to make sure they stay that way. If they can stay where they are, out of the middle of things until after the... situation downstairs is resolved, that would be best." Nathan paused again. "I've been talking to him, telepathically. He really is all right."
"Not hurt, I know, you said," Juanita said, then stopped. "But... how is he, Nathan? Really?"
He had to be honest with her. "Frightened. But he's keeping it together - I can't say that I'm glad Samie's in there with him, but they're doing a good job of keeping each other company, and in situations like this, that can mean a lot." He's not alone.
"Yes," she said with a nod. "Yes, that's good. And he's safe, as far as he can be?"
"He and Samie are probably the safest people in that building." And that was only the truth, too. "I'm watching him, Juanita, I promise, and he knows I am."
"That must be a comfort to him," she said, with the faintest smile sounding in her voice. "To them. I guess.... it's too far for me to talk to him... through you?" She expected the answer to be 'no', but it was worth asking at least.
"You should ask Charles," Nathan said after a moment. "I can't, it's too far for me..."
"I thought it would be," she said, resigned. "But yes, I'll ask him. Thank you for trying."
"I'm going to do more than try, Juanita," Nathan said, quietly but forcefully, not liking the resigned tone in her voice. "If this situation gets out of control at any point... I swear I'll fly up there and get them," he said, remembering Angelo's comment. "For right now, though, we have to let it work itself out. It's the best chance of getting everyone in the building out safely."
"I... yes," she said, voice stronger now. "If you were seen doing that, by someone inside, and... yes. Better to wait." Even if she hated it.
"You know he'll do everything he can to stay safe. Even more enthusiastically, given that he's got someone else with him - he wants to make sure she stays safe, too."
"He would," she agreed fondly. "If I know my boy..."
"This is just going to wind up as one more of those stories he uses to put gray in your hair," Nathan said, trying to keep his voice light.
She chuckled quietly. "One of many, believe me."
"Look, Juanita, I should probably go..." Nathan paused, something else occurring to him. "Would you call Amanda? I would, but I think the police are going to start looking sideways at me if I start making too many phone calls."
"...of course." There was a brief pause, then, "Does she know yet?"
"You'd know that better than me. I don't know how much news coverage this is getting just yet, or whether she knew which hotel Angelo was going to be at this week."
"Some coverage," Juanita said. "If she knew about the hotel... I don't know."
"If she's seen any of the coverage and made the connection, I think she'd be relieved to know what I just told you," Nathan said. "You can tell her the team is here, too. That should help."
Juanita nodded again, on the other end of the phone. "I think it will, yes. And that he's safely out of the way."
"Try and get some rest," Nathan said, "or at least don't pay too much attention to the news coverage. It may be a while yet, and they certainly won't have anywhere near the whole story."
"There isn't very much else to do," she said ruefully. "Though it's been very interesting meeting some of the people here."
"I wish Moira was there. She and Rachel could have kept you company."
"I think some of the children have made it their business to do that. Even if they don't know what's going on... some of the young girls have been very sweet."
"Keep an eye out for the ones that try to feed you," Nathan said with a soft, tired-sounding laugh. "They can be very persistent." He took a deep breath, then let it out again. "I should go, Juanita. I want to get a better look at what's going on."
"Okay," she said quietly. "You'll call me if anything else happens?"
"As soon as I can."
"Thank you, then."
Nathan hung up, slipping the phone back into the bag, and then sighed, pulling himself to his feet. He needed some air.
--
Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea for him to be standing up here on the roof - the snipers didn't look impressed at all - but Nathan honestly couldn't care less. He could get back downstairs very quickly, if the call came, and inside the dress shop had been stifling. He'd eaten something, but he wasn't about to nap like some of the others, not when Angelo was over there in the middle of all of this.
Ororo was of much the same mind as Nate - inside was not where she wanted to be right now. And relaxation seemed like a futile hope at the moment, though being out in the cold, crisp air helped a bit. She climbed the stairs to the roof quietly, aware that any sudden or unexpected arrivals (especially from the air) could possibly set off a chain of events that would make the situation inside even more difficult to deal with.
Nathan was up there. Of course. Ororo headed over towards him, angling her steps until she came to stand beside him. The snipers eyed her but didn't move.
"I think I liked the Brazilian police better," Nathan muttered in English. "They weren't nearly so twitchy. And none of them were fantasizing about shooting their way in there like Clint Eastwood."
"If all they do is fantasize, they can pretend they are whoever they like," Ororo replied in a murmur. "And to be fair, I cannot blame them for being 'twitchy'. It is even worse downstairs." She glanced out over the gray skies, the gray buildings underneath... everything a flat monotone that seemed unaffected by the growing tenseness around them.
"I lived here, did I ever tell you that? Well," Nathan amended, "not here in Moscow. Saint Petersburg, for about five years. That was where GW and I had our first safehouse."
"I did not know that," Ororo said, seemingly unthrown by the anecdotal nature of Nathan's train of thought. "I suppose that would explain your familiarity with the language."
"Russia is one of the places I can actually pass as a native." Nathan sighed, rubbing at his jaw, his eyes never leaving the hotel. "I'm so tempted to 'listen in' to the negotiations. I doubt that would help the waiting, though."
"I would assume not," she agreed quietly. Turning away, she lifted her eyes and took a deep breath: there was smoke and smog, yes, but underneath somewhere was the scent of water and sky. "We will hear the moment the situation changes. Until then, we must endure the hardest part of any mission. Though of course, it is nothing when compared to what Angelo must be facing."
"At least he's not alone." Nathan laughed softly, a touch of desperate humor in it. "Not that I'm actually glad Samie's in there with him. She's a sweet kid. But then, she also grew up in Kashmir - she's probably better-equipped to handle a crisis than most."
"And Angelo is not completely unequipped himself," Ororo reminded him gently. "He has done all the right things so far, and I am sure he will continue to do so."
"Oh, I'm not worried about Angelo." Wait, that hadn't come out right. "Well, of course I'm worried about Angelo," Nathan went on, very dryly. "Just not at all worried that he's going to do anything dumb."
He paused again for a longer moment, this time. "I can feel him, you know," he said. "Not Angelo. Saidullayev. I bet Jean can, too."
"And if you can feel him..." Well, they tried to keep personal feelings out of things at all times. The downside to that was that the other side didn't have the same agenda. Saidullayev would know that Nate was here, and she was sure that in spite of his other goals he wouldn't hesitate to single Nate out if the opportunity arose. "I do not say this often, but I think that he is one of the people this world would be better off without."
Nathan's smile was brief and very cold. "You won't get any disagreement from me. Thank fuck he's not a telepath, is all I can say - that would make this situation damned near impossible."
"Thank the goddess for small favors, then." We need all we can get. Ororo laid a hand lightly on Nathan's shoulder, just for a moment. "Do you mind if I stay out here a while longer? It seems better than the alternative, for some reason."
"I wouldn't mind." He paused. "That or the company."
--
Best use of limited resources. Why hadn't he brought Logan? Oh, right. Because he stabs people. Still, Logan, Shiro, Kurt... all three of them would have been helpful. Especially Kurt. Scott frowned down at the blueprints, counting exits.
Marie ran her hand over her leather covered arm, walking over to glance at the blueprints upside down before looking up at Scott's face. "Is it that bad?" she asked, concern leaking into her tone.
"Not bad, just... complicated. I could use twice the people we have here." Of course, they didn't have twice the people they had here back home. "I want to limit how much we work directly with the Russians," he said, keeping his voice low. "I don't get the sense they particularly want us here."
"Would that be from the glares or the icy tones when they deign to talk to us?" she replied, keeping her voice low as well. "We've always made do with the size of our team. We'll do it again. We hafta."
"We've been spoiled. Working side-by-side with people back in the US and elsewhere who don't actually mind the help..." Scott's voice was almost absent, his gaze still locked on the blueprints. A telepath would have been able to pick up on the way his mind was racing, examining and discarding tactical options at top speed. "You and Cain make a good invulnerable pair. I think I'll put you together, if we have to go in..."
"Not like it's the first time we've had to work with people who didn't like us," Marie said, leaning against the table. "Cain and Ah make sense, especially if you need a powerhouse team. Could throw Garrison in too if you need a bigger set...he's the next closest one to our level."
"I'd prefer to do that, actually. He did well in Greece, and he's had a lot of training, but he's still new to this." Scott pulled aside one sheet of blueprints, studying the next. "Going to need to keep Nate and Jean together to hit Saidullayev..."
"And hit him hard," Marie said. "What's the latest word from An..Sancho?"
"They're still safely away from the action. Anxious, but they've been in there for nearly eighteen hours now. That's a hell of a long time to sit around on the fringes of a hostage situation." Scott bent over the blueprints, shaking his head. "I should leave Storm outside, as a rear guard... there are enough mutants in there that if they decide to make a concerted break for it, the police and the militia might not be able to hold them."
"Better it's Sancho in there than some of our other teammates. He's got the patience to sit still and not take action when he shouldn't." Marie walked around the table to peer over Scott's shoulder. "Stationing her here could be good," she said pointing to a spot on the blueprints. "She could easily get to either of these exits or quickly get access to the other side of the building too."
Scott looked around at her with a crooked smile. "Any more suggestions?" he asked, quite seriously, although he was well-aware that his tone probably came across sounding teasing.
Marie blushed and ducked her head. "Nah, that's about all Ah've got. Ah'm surprised you even listen to my opinion after the decision Ah made on Youra."
Someone else might have reasoned that this wasn't the time to worry about his people's confidence and looked back down at the blueprints after giving a token reassurance. Scott might have even been that someone, a couple of years ago. Thankfully, he wasn't that someone anymore.
"Why did you decide to do what you did on Youra?" he asked - the one question he hadn't asked at the time.
"We were already down. Getting Jack out would've slowed the operation and taken away the element of surprise." Marie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking at Scott out of the corner of her eye. "And," she added quietly, "my gut said it was the best choice Ah had."
"So why are you doubting yourself?" He didn't let her answer before he went on. "The job got done. Jack didn't hurt anyone, or get anyone hurt. Why the doubt?" It was hardly fair, and he wouldn't blame her if she pointed out just how often he had second-guessed himself, but he wanted to see what she answered.
Rogue wished she could explain that part of it was because she'd seen what it had done to Garrison, to be teamed with someone like that. Instead, she said the other part. "Because Ah had no way of knowing that for sure and basically relied on luck." She smiled weakly at Scott. "And Ah'm realizing that sometimes that's part of what we have to do."
"True. And you also put a friend in a tough spot," Scott, who had after all talked not just to Marie, but also to Garrison and Jim, said with a curious combination of gentleness and an utter lack of mercy. "I know what that's like, you know. I ordered Lorna to leave someone to die not too long ago, remember."
"Ah read the report," Rogue said. "But Ah guess that's one of the problems with our little setup. We're coworkers, teammates, friends...talk about dual relationships. Adds another layer of complexity to what we do."
"You won't get any disagreement from me," Scott said, looking back at the blueprints. "It's negotiating that layer that's the tricky part. I speak as someone who goes into the field with his spouse - I'm always wondering about my ability to be objective. But I think so long as I'm wondering, I'm probably doing what I need to do to stay on the right side of the line." He was silent again for a moment. "You, Cain, and Garrison - you'll be the primaries, going into the conference hall. Think you can keep the two of them in line?"
Marie grinned and nodded. "Them two? No sweat. Cain knows what he's doing and so does Garrison, even if he still new to actual action. Personalities should mesh well too. We'll get the job done."
She was missing the implication. That tickled him, in a perverse sort of way - but didn't stop him from hammering them home, even so. "Then go grab your team, Rogue, and get them over here for a briefing."
My what? She turned her head to cast a rather odd look at Scott, before her smile grew just a little. "Aye aye captain."
--
"Take the food, for example. By my watch, fifty-five minutes dealing with what they want. Every time they're ready, I toss something else. Any food allergies in case a hostage has a lethal reaction. Religious requirements. Candy." Garrison pointed out. "They have all the power here, at least they think, so they are willing to take my delay as an effort to please. This meal bought us an hour more."
Scott nodded. He'd gotten the tactical plan mostly settled - well, the core of it anyway, given that they couldn't really foresee what Saidullayev himself might do if they had to go in. He'd left Nathan and Jean upstairs tossing around possibilities, figuring that once they'd started debating Askani telekinetic combat techniques that they didn't really need him sitting there asking him to explain what the fuck they were talking about. Coming down to check with Garrison had seemed like a good alternative, and he'd caught the other man between conversations with the hostage-takers.
"The militia's looking increasingly unsettled," he commented quietly. "Some are getting impatient, some just look tired... I hope Saidullayev's people are more the latter than the former."
"That's the danger in hostage taking, even with highly trained people. It's both incredibly dangerous and boring as hell. Those terrorists know one misstep and a sniper will put one into their temple. However, no one can remain sharp and alert for hours on end. The longer this takes, the more difficult it gets for them to hold out and to kill the hostages. They are more and more becoming people, and less targets to them." Kane motioned at the phone. "You can't not talk to them, and after a while, you start to empathize with them. Stockholm Syndrome works in both directions."
"I'm sure in general that's true," Scott said after a moment, "but I wouldn't count on it holding true for Saidullayev himself. You read what we have on him, and what he tried to pull in San Francisco back in the fall. That's even setting aside the fact that he doesn't need anyone's help to kill every single one of those hostages." He reached down his link with Jean, assessingly, and realized she was still deep in conversation with Nathan. "He's telekinetic without being telepathic, remember. Power but no built-in empathy."
"Saidullayev's profile is what worries me. He's smart enough to have pulled this in the US and gotten away. That means he's got another plan here, beyond just walling himself behind human shields." Kane flipped open the file. "A guy like this knows that Russia doesn't want to bargain. I'm wondering if it's another plan. Like he wants to force a breach as an excuse to kill everyone in there. If he's got a teleporter on staff, he gets out clean. For the cost of a half dozen trained mutants, Russia gets both barrels from the EU and the States in response to getting their people killed. That's more damaging than a hundred Chechen political prisioners back on the street. That's why I'm glad I've been getting others on the phone. If I can weaken them, Saidullayev is going to have to be convincing on how they're all going to get clear."
"He left a number of people behind in San Francisco," Scott observed. "It's too bad we don't know if that's working against him or not, with his people." He slipped off his headset, to adjust it properly. He hadn't been expecting to wear it for hours on end like this. "I've been listening in," he said after a moment. They'd come in on the tail end of the negotiations back in Rio, once everything had started going south. He'd never heard the whole process like this before. "You seem to be doing a lot of temporizing. That part of the technique?"
"You noticed that? Yeah, you never tell a hostage taker 'no' directly. Makes them angry and closes the conversation. You have to play for time, give them options." Kane pointed at the police. Doing so, he noticed that the one-eyed man Robatkin had been speaking to was gone, and a tall redhead was in his place. For a second, he thought it was Scott's wife standing there. Both women shared the same tall frame and strong features. "They have a lot of 'no' surrounding them right now. Being given positive responses makes them less eager to go into that final decision. Keeps them talking."
"Speaking of..." Jean was poking him. "I think our telekinetics have come up with a strategy of their own. I should go back upstairs and hear it." He smiled a very wry, slight smile at Garrison. "Keep in mind that a successful end to the negotiations might also preclude three telekinetics having at each other in the streets of Moscow. Just in case you need any extra incentive."
"Yeah, because I hadn't been feeling the pressure before."
Scott paused as he rose. "I'm no expert, but you seem to have a handle on the situation so far. Honestly, I'd like nothing more than to see you start a new trend where we don't actually have to go in and get shot at," he said quietly, calmly. In sharp contrast to most of the people around him, Scott had started showing the tension less and less as the hours had gone by. "I'll just be up there listening to my wife and her training partner scare the crap out of me - yell if you need me."
--
They had found, amazingly, a large bag of trail mix in one of the suitcases. It was very nearly ideal, given that it was entirely possible that they were going to need large amounts of energy at some point tonight. Samie had crept into the washroom, filling two cups of water as quietly as she could, and then come back to join Angelo beside the window.
"This actually isn't bad," she said very softly, picking out a chocolate chip.
He looked at her sideways, with a faint rueful grin. "For trail mix, huh? Hell of a holiday for you."
"Yes, I think I'll skip Moscow and just go home next time," she murmured ruefully. "At least there you only have to worry about sometimes getting blown up in the streets. The militants aren't much for hostage-taking."
"Sorry I dragged you in on this," was the genuinely apologetic answer.
Samie gave him a startled look. "This isn't your fault," she protested, still careful to keep her voice low. "And besides..." The smile she gave him was anything but sweet. 'Wicked' would just about cover it. "I'm not sure last night wasn't worth the hostage situation."
"Me an' mine are trouble magnets," he pointed out, trying to keep it light, then raised his eyebrows at her. "That so?"
She may have blushed, just a little. It was hard to tell, in the near-darkness of the room. "I paid you one entirely too forward compliment, Angelo Espinosa," she said mock-sternly. "Now you're just... how do you say it, fishing?"
Angelo laughed quietly, dipping a hand into the trail mix bag again. "Well, it was just askin' for it."
"I suppose if this was a movie," Samie went on after a few moments of silence, "you and I would be rushing out there and fighting terrorists. I'm glad it's not..." She paused briefly. "Why is Nathan across the street?" she asked, unexpectedly.
Angelo shot her a slightly confused look. "You mean... why is he across the street, or why's he in Moscow at all?"
"Why is he across the street?" Her blue eyes met his, very steadily. "Because this isn't a movie."
"...no, it's not." He grinned wryly, not looking away. "But sometimes my life feels like one. Nate never told you what he - well, we, now - do apart from the day jobs, did we?"
"No..." Samie tilted her head at him, her expression gone almost contemplative. "But I have been paying attention, 'Sancho'. There is much more going on here than I know about, I think. But as long as you tell me that it's all right..."
There was a brief silence before he answered that. "It's... it depends what you mean, 'all right'. It's nothin' illegal, most of the time, but it's not always safe. Obviously."
"So long as you're not a bad guy. You're not, are you?" The words were entirely serious. Her expression was anything but.
"No," he answered with no hesitation at all this time. "We're the good guys, Samie, I promise. An' there's people out there, I know for a fact, who're goin' to do everythin' they can to make sure this ends well, too."
Samie's smile didn't fade, but it turned more reflective as she laid her head back on his shoulder. "Are you frightened?" she asked after a moment. "I don't mean right now. I mean about doing... good things that aren't safe."
"Depends on the things," he told her. "Sometimes, yeah, I have been. But it's worth doin' anyway."
"Nathan does these things too, then."
"Yeah, he does. An' for a lot longer than I've been. I'm still just a trainee."
"You do good things that aren't safe," Samie said, "and you go to places like Kashmir, that aren't safe... to do good things... all right, yes. I do see the pattern."
"Actually," he said with a faint chuckle, "Kashmir was part of the day job."
Samie put a hand over her mouth in the gesture that Angelo had learned meant she was suppressing a giggle. "... do you have a secret identity?"
He grinned at her, oddly relieved to see her laughing. "In a way, I guess I do. The whole 'Sancho' thing..."
"Sancho... like Sancho Panza? And that would make Nathan..."
"Don Quixote. Exactly."
"Somehow that isn't as reassuring as it should be." Samie gave a sigh. "You know that because we're up here, we might get out of this even if things go badly downstairs. It's strange, but I feel guilty about that."
"It was meant to be a joke," he said, eyeing her worriedly. "He's not really Don Quixote, as he keeps pointin' out... an' you shouldn't. I brought you here, I'm gonna keep you safe."
"I believe you. I suppose I'm just scared. For myself and for all those people who were listening to that speech, too."
"If it helps, just remember the guys down there need those people. They can't get whatever it is they want without a bargainin' chip."
"It's funny, to hope that they do get what they want..." Samie murmured.
"Think of it as hopin' for the best endin' we can get. If that's just everybody down there gettin' out, even if it means everybody... sometimes you've gotta take what you can get."
--
Kane checked his watch and sighed. Seven hours in. The hostages had been taken over twenty hours ago. Saidullayev still worried him, but he was making progress with Ivina, the woman he'd left much of the negotiations too. In a way, Saidullayev had made Garrison's job unwittingly easier. Every time he talked to her, she'd have to relate back to Kane his decision. Kane could then make further suggestions, demanding more time in consultation. It had lengthened the process, and bought him time he might not have gotten. He was also building up a nice profile on her, and there were possibilities. She was an ideological patriot, which meant she was dangerous, but also that her passion could be turned back on her. Soldiers and patriots craved honour, and hostage taking was the antithesis of that. He'd been slowly getting her to discuss her career and stroking the pride of the warrior facing a real challenge. She wouldn't hesitate to kill an innocent, but she was starting to question the value of it.
The phone buzzed, and Garrison was almost surprised to hear Saidullayev at the other end.
"Dominion. You know that when I leave, I could walk out the door and there is nothing the militia could do to stop me, yes?" There was a touch of anger in Saidullayev's voice, for perhaps the first time in any of their conversations thus far. "But I will not leave my people to find their own way. You have not told me if the bus and the plane are arranged, for when our demands have been met."
"We're working on both of them right now, Saidullayev. We need to know what kind of plane you want, so we can arrange for the right range and fueling." Garrison had been doing well, tying them up in details. The bus alone had taken an hour as the terrorists switched their minds. "We also can't provide something that will hold all the hostages."
Saidullayev swore in Chechen. "This is stalling, yes?" he demanded, his accent thickening. In the background, Garrison could hear angry voices, speaking Chechen.
"You've been through this before, Saidullayev. We have to make arrangements, clear them through the channels. You know the Russians are dragging their feet as much as they can." Kane took a breath. "And our governments know it. It's another success for you there, you know. They are the ones endangering the hostages right now."
"I do not consider this a success, American." There was a dangerous level of anger seething beneath the telekinetic's voice. Had Garrison been in the conference room with him, he would have seen furniture started to rattle dangerously, felt the tremor beginning in the floor. "If this is... how do you say, a divide and conquer strategy? You do not wish to leave me with no choice but to create a way for my people to escape. There would be many dead, and not only among the hostages."
"Why chance your people on that? For the lives of people who don't matter to your cause in any case? You want something and right now, you've got currency to make it happen. Only a fool or a Russian devalues his money before trying to buy." Kane wiped the sweat from his upper lip. "They are willing to buy, Saidullayev, and I think you know that."
"This is too slow, Dominion," was the growled response. "I know these tactics. You wish to draw this out? Then we will draw this out. You will speak to Ivina now, while I speak to my people."
Garrison let out a breath as Saidullayev passed over the phone. The man was devillishly clever, and Kane was aware how easily he could make a misstep that cost someone their life with him. Ivina came on, her voice more tired than anything. Garrison had learned that Saidullayev felt himself above the more mundane details, like blankets and lunch, leaving them to his deputy.
"Yankee, we want a television crew inside," she said. This was Saidullayev's gamble. He was going to make some sort of statement that he wanted the world to get, to embarass Russia. "A private Western one, like your CNN."
"I'll see what I can do about that, Ivina. They might be reluctant, if they think you might take them hostage," Kane countered easily. A television crew would be worth at least two or three hours to him now.
"They will have safer treatment than the Russians have planned." Behind Borakin's dry translation, Ivina's voice had gone sharp and Garrison frowned. It was an odd reaction to his comment, out of character.
"Ivina, I will ask them, but it will take time. They will need to clear things with their networks and their governments before they can do anything. You do want to make sure your story gets out correctly, don't you?"
"You will regret this, Yankee." The line suddenly went dead and a chill ran through Garrison. What had just happened? He keyed the command frequency. "We have a problem. Ivina reacted totally off the profile, and went hostile." He was amazed he could keep his voice steady. "Cyclops, prep for a Go order. I don't understand what has just happened."
"Understood," he heard his team leader say, as Scott started giving quiet orders over the X-Men's coms.
"You were mistranslated," a cool, slightly accented voice said behind him, almost in his ear. Kane turned to find himself face to face with the redheaded woman.
"What?"
"Subtly, but there none the less." She held up an identity card. "Natasha Romanova, FSB. This one switched a few key words."
Boradin turned red-faced. "That is a lie."
"Major." Natasha said softly and cruelly. "That is a lie, Major. Correct?"
"I--" Boradin had gone from red to white at her words, and it finally caught up with Garrison.
"What did you change? What--" He reached out and ripped the headset off of Boradin. "Get out, now!" He turned back to Natasha desperately. The red light on his phone switch had just turned on. "Please, I need a Chechen speaker."
Kane thrust the headset into her hands, and keyed over the comm.
"I believed that you and I were speaking together as men," came Saidullayev's voice, calm on the surface but a twist of something ugly and enraged beneath the facade. "Now Ivina tells me that you are not taking us seriously. That you dismiss us, as the Russians do. Shall I show you otherwise, Dominion? There are... twelve hostages, in front of me. I could reach out and crush their hearts with a thought. It is a trick the Russians taught me. Very simple. I find that I like the idea of using it here, to remind you and them why you must take me seriously. Shall I?" A pause. "Or shall I find the Americans in the room, and kill them instead?"
"Listen to me, Saidullayev." Kane was scrabbling desperately. "The only thing between the Russians and you right now is me. This has been engineered. They don't care about the hostages, and you know that. If you do this, I can't get anything for you. The Europeans will only put pressure on the Russians if there's a reasonable chance you'll give up the hostages. Why let the Russians make you throw away your plan?"
More angry voices in the background. Saidullayev's voice moved away from the phone, barked out something in Chechen, and the other voices fell silent. "If you are not in control of the situation, American, why am I speaking to you?" he demanded. "If you are so easily manipulated by these-" He spat something out in Chechen, clearly profane. "-why do I believe anything you say?"
"Because if you can't, your mission is already a failure. You came here to bring the Russians to task, Saidullayev, not to kill people. You stop dealing with me, they win." Kane gritted his teeth. "And now, they've just given you the big club. They tried to force you into action, and our governments will know. They can force the Russians to talk fair."
"You are so certain you know my mission, Dominion?" They could hear Ivina's voice in the background, still sounding angry, as Saidullayev paused. The silence dragged on for a moment, her words in Chechen and mostly unintelligible, but her tone oddly persuasive. Saidullayev made a noise that was half-growl, half-assent.
"I will hang up now, American," was his response, in the end. "My people and I must talk. I would suggest-" Saidullayev's tone was almost venomous, "that you and the Russian pigs decide who is giving the orders there. Before I call back."
The comm line went dead.
Garrison took a second to close his eyes. That was too close. Boradin had nearly touched off a confrontation, obviously what Robatkin had in mind all along. That way, the Colonel could blame the Westerners and give Russia a way out that both saved face and required no concessions.
"Cyclops, I think we're back in business, but he's very angry. He knows that I'm losing control of the situation, and that's going to make him nervous." Kane had switched to the private signal and then back to the command com.
"I'm keeping everyone in position," was Scott's calm-sounding reply. "Cable and Phoenix are scanning the building. We can be in there in ten seconds if we have to be, Dominion." Left unsaid was that he was counting on Garrison to give them the word when the word needed to be given.
The comm light went back on, and Garrison flipped the channel open. Natasha was waiting, providing his translation. He was relieved to hear Ivina's voice on the line, rather than Saidullayev's.
"Ivina, we're talking to the news crews now."
"You should tell them to watch the front doors, Yankee. Like you said, the Russians wish to storm in here and kill us. So we will give them a hostage, with the whole world watching. That will make them think about the consequences of testing us." Her voice was back to the icy tone that she'd had at the beginning. Garrison signaled the police that a hostage was coming out.
"It will help your demands, Ivina. It shows you're willing to negotiate."
"Yes, she will have our new demands." Something felt wrong, but Kane forced it back, watching the front doors through the window of the coffee shop. Things were on a razor edge, so any hostage they could get out helped the odds.
A middle-aged blonde woman stumbled out the door, obviously shoved from the lobby. She had a piece of paper pinned to the front of her jacket - the new demands, assumed Kane. She took a halting step forward, finding her balance after hours trapped sitting on a floor.
Kane opened his mouth, to shout a warning or just to curse, he hadn't figured out when he caught sight of the man at the door. The rifle came up, and fired two rounds through the back of the blonde woman's head. She twisted and crumpled, like a puppet with the strings cut. Ivina's voice was the only thing in the stunned silence, triumphant over Natasha's calm translation.
"There is your hostage, Yankee. We'll be giving you the rest like this until you meet our demands." The line went dead.
Garrison stood stock still as the command centre erupted in noise. Orders were being shouted, and two militia went forward under the guns of a dozen more to grab the body and drag it behind the lines. Kane's eyes followed it, the ruddy line winding out behind it.
Scott didn't curse - didn't react at all to the dead woman herself, in fact. "Stay on position," he said over the coms. "Dominion, are we a go?" Nothing from Kane. He was frozen, Scott realized. "Garrison," he said, softly but more forcefully.
"Yeah, I, uh--" Kane shook his head from side to side. "Kill... kill the power. The whole building, now." He flipped the channel over. "Negotiator has lost control. I advise breaching the building." He looked puzzled, preoccupied as he said it, his voice strangely flat. Romanova's green eyes were on him, considering as he opened and shut his empty hands over and over.
"All teams, thirty second countdown," Scott said, not sure whether or not to stop Garrison as he saw the younger man moving towards his position. Necessity won out; they had limited manpower, and they needed him on the team going into the conference hall. He would shake this off, or he wouldn't. Hopefully the former. "Rogue, make sure your team gets in there fast. Cable, Phoenix... let's not let this bastard get away this time."
Nathan pulled the cell phone out of one of the bags brought from the Blackbird. The Russian police would possibly have some objections to him doing this, he thought as he dialed a particular one of the mansion's numbers, but it wasn't as if he was going to be giving away tactical details. And there were other considerations, here.
"Hello, Charles," he said in response to the voice that answered after the first ring. "Is she - thanks." He waited until he heard a soft, worried-sounding voice say hello. "Hello, Juanita."
Juanita was sitting in one of the parlours - she was staying in the mansion for the time being, so as to be in easier reach - absently stroking Joyita's head where the dog rested her chin on her knee. "Hello, Nathan," she answered quietly.
"He's all right." That was the first thing that needed saying, and the most important. "He wasn't in the conference hall when the other hostages were taken, and he managed to stay upstairs and out of sight." Nathan paused for a moment, wondering if he should... "Samie's with him. Samie Kander. I guess she's in Moscow for a vacation, and the two of them ran into each other."
She blinked, confused. "Samie? I don't... she's all right as well?"
"She's fine. They both are. Not a scratch on either of them." It couldn't hurt to reinforce that. "We're going to make sure they stay that way. If they can stay where they are, out of the middle of things until after the... situation downstairs is resolved, that would be best." Nathan paused again. "I've been talking to him, telepathically. He really is all right."
"Not hurt, I know, you said," Juanita said, then stopped. "But... how is he, Nathan? Really?"
He had to be honest with her. "Frightened. But he's keeping it together - I can't say that I'm glad Samie's in there with him, but they're doing a good job of keeping each other company, and in situations like this, that can mean a lot." He's not alone.
"Yes," she said with a nod. "Yes, that's good. And he's safe, as far as he can be?"
"He and Samie are probably the safest people in that building." And that was only the truth, too. "I'm watching him, Juanita, I promise, and he knows I am."
"That must be a comfort to him," she said, with the faintest smile sounding in her voice. "To them. I guess.... it's too far for me to talk to him... through you?" She expected the answer to be 'no', but it was worth asking at least.
"You should ask Charles," Nathan said after a moment. "I can't, it's too far for me..."
"I thought it would be," she said, resigned. "But yes, I'll ask him. Thank you for trying."
"I'm going to do more than try, Juanita," Nathan said, quietly but forcefully, not liking the resigned tone in her voice. "If this situation gets out of control at any point... I swear I'll fly up there and get them," he said, remembering Angelo's comment. "For right now, though, we have to let it work itself out. It's the best chance of getting everyone in the building out safely."
"I... yes," she said, voice stronger now. "If you were seen doing that, by someone inside, and... yes. Better to wait." Even if she hated it.
"You know he'll do everything he can to stay safe. Even more enthusiastically, given that he's got someone else with him - he wants to make sure she stays safe, too."
"He would," she agreed fondly. "If I know my boy..."
"This is just going to wind up as one more of those stories he uses to put gray in your hair," Nathan said, trying to keep his voice light.
She chuckled quietly. "One of many, believe me."
"Look, Juanita, I should probably go..." Nathan paused, something else occurring to him. "Would you call Amanda? I would, but I think the police are going to start looking sideways at me if I start making too many phone calls."
"...of course." There was a brief pause, then, "Does she know yet?"
"You'd know that better than me. I don't know how much news coverage this is getting just yet, or whether she knew which hotel Angelo was going to be at this week."
"Some coverage," Juanita said. "If she knew about the hotel... I don't know."
"If she's seen any of the coverage and made the connection, I think she'd be relieved to know what I just told you," Nathan said. "You can tell her the team is here, too. That should help."
Juanita nodded again, on the other end of the phone. "I think it will, yes. And that he's safely out of the way."
"Try and get some rest," Nathan said, "or at least don't pay too much attention to the news coverage. It may be a while yet, and they certainly won't have anywhere near the whole story."
"There isn't very much else to do," she said ruefully. "Though it's been very interesting meeting some of the people here."
"I wish Moira was there. She and Rachel could have kept you company."
"I think some of the children have made it their business to do that. Even if they don't know what's going on... some of the young girls have been very sweet."
"Keep an eye out for the ones that try to feed you," Nathan said with a soft, tired-sounding laugh. "They can be very persistent." He took a deep breath, then let it out again. "I should go, Juanita. I want to get a better look at what's going on."
"Okay," she said quietly. "You'll call me if anything else happens?"
"As soon as I can."
"Thank you, then."
Nathan hung up, slipping the phone back into the bag, and then sighed, pulling himself to his feet. He needed some air.
--
Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea for him to be standing up here on the roof - the snipers didn't look impressed at all - but Nathan honestly couldn't care less. He could get back downstairs very quickly, if the call came, and inside the dress shop had been stifling. He'd eaten something, but he wasn't about to nap like some of the others, not when Angelo was over there in the middle of all of this.
Ororo was of much the same mind as Nate - inside was not where she wanted to be right now. And relaxation seemed like a futile hope at the moment, though being out in the cold, crisp air helped a bit. She climbed the stairs to the roof quietly, aware that any sudden or unexpected arrivals (especially from the air) could possibly set off a chain of events that would make the situation inside even more difficult to deal with.
Nathan was up there. Of course. Ororo headed over towards him, angling her steps until she came to stand beside him. The snipers eyed her but didn't move.
"I think I liked the Brazilian police better," Nathan muttered in English. "They weren't nearly so twitchy. And none of them were fantasizing about shooting their way in there like Clint Eastwood."
"If all they do is fantasize, they can pretend they are whoever they like," Ororo replied in a murmur. "And to be fair, I cannot blame them for being 'twitchy'. It is even worse downstairs." She glanced out over the gray skies, the gray buildings underneath... everything a flat monotone that seemed unaffected by the growing tenseness around them.
"I lived here, did I ever tell you that? Well," Nathan amended, "not here in Moscow. Saint Petersburg, for about five years. That was where GW and I had our first safehouse."
"I did not know that," Ororo said, seemingly unthrown by the anecdotal nature of Nathan's train of thought. "I suppose that would explain your familiarity with the language."
"Russia is one of the places I can actually pass as a native." Nathan sighed, rubbing at his jaw, his eyes never leaving the hotel. "I'm so tempted to 'listen in' to the negotiations. I doubt that would help the waiting, though."
"I would assume not," she agreed quietly. Turning away, she lifted her eyes and took a deep breath: there was smoke and smog, yes, but underneath somewhere was the scent of water and sky. "We will hear the moment the situation changes. Until then, we must endure the hardest part of any mission. Though of course, it is nothing when compared to what Angelo must be facing."
"At least he's not alone." Nathan laughed softly, a touch of desperate humor in it. "Not that I'm actually glad Samie's in there with him. She's a sweet kid. But then, she also grew up in Kashmir - she's probably better-equipped to handle a crisis than most."
"And Angelo is not completely unequipped himself," Ororo reminded him gently. "He has done all the right things so far, and I am sure he will continue to do so."
"Oh, I'm not worried about Angelo." Wait, that hadn't come out right. "Well, of course I'm worried about Angelo," Nathan went on, very dryly. "Just not at all worried that he's going to do anything dumb."
He paused again for a longer moment, this time. "I can feel him, you know," he said. "Not Angelo. Saidullayev. I bet Jean can, too."
"And if you can feel him..." Well, they tried to keep personal feelings out of things at all times. The downside to that was that the other side didn't have the same agenda. Saidullayev would know that Nate was here, and she was sure that in spite of his other goals he wouldn't hesitate to single Nate out if the opportunity arose. "I do not say this often, but I think that he is one of the people this world would be better off without."
Nathan's smile was brief and very cold. "You won't get any disagreement from me. Thank fuck he's not a telepath, is all I can say - that would make this situation damned near impossible."
"Thank the goddess for small favors, then." We need all we can get. Ororo laid a hand lightly on Nathan's shoulder, just for a moment. "Do you mind if I stay out here a while longer? It seems better than the alternative, for some reason."
"I wouldn't mind." He paused. "That or the company."
--
Best use of limited resources. Why hadn't he brought Logan? Oh, right. Because he stabs people. Still, Logan, Shiro, Kurt... all three of them would have been helpful. Especially Kurt. Scott frowned down at the blueprints, counting exits.
Marie ran her hand over her leather covered arm, walking over to glance at the blueprints upside down before looking up at Scott's face. "Is it that bad?" she asked, concern leaking into her tone.
"Not bad, just... complicated. I could use twice the people we have here." Of course, they didn't have twice the people they had here back home. "I want to limit how much we work directly with the Russians," he said, keeping his voice low. "I don't get the sense they particularly want us here."
"Would that be from the glares or the icy tones when they deign to talk to us?" she replied, keeping her voice low as well. "We've always made do with the size of our team. We'll do it again. We hafta."
"We've been spoiled. Working side-by-side with people back in the US and elsewhere who don't actually mind the help..." Scott's voice was almost absent, his gaze still locked on the blueprints. A telepath would have been able to pick up on the way his mind was racing, examining and discarding tactical options at top speed. "You and Cain make a good invulnerable pair. I think I'll put you together, if we have to go in..."
"Not like it's the first time we've had to work with people who didn't like us," Marie said, leaning against the table. "Cain and Ah make sense, especially if you need a powerhouse team. Could throw Garrison in too if you need a bigger set...he's the next closest one to our level."
"I'd prefer to do that, actually. He did well in Greece, and he's had a lot of training, but he's still new to this." Scott pulled aside one sheet of blueprints, studying the next. "Going to need to keep Nate and Jean together to hit Saidullayev..."
"And hit him hard," Marie said. "What's the latest word from An..Sancho?"
"They're still safely away from the action. Anxious, but they've been in there for nearly eighteen hours now. That's a hell of a long time to sit around on the fringes of a hostage situation." Scott bent over the blueprints, shaking his head. "I should leave Storm outside, as a rear guard... there are enough mutants in there that if they decide to make a concerted break for it, the police and the militia might not be able to hold them."
"Better it's Sancho in there than some of our other teammates. He's got the patience to sit still and not take action when he shouldn't." Marie walked around the table to peer over Scott's shoulder. "Stationing her here could be good," she said pointing to a spot on the blueprints. "She could easily get to either of these exits or quickly get access to the other side of the building too."
Scott looked around at her with a crooked smile. "Any more suggestions?" he asked, quite seriously, although he was well-aware that his tone probably came across sounding teasing.
Marie blushed and ducked her head. "Nah, that's about all Ah've got. Ah'm surprised you even listen to my opinion after the decision Ah made on Youra."
Someone else might have reasoned that this wasn't the time to worry about his people's confidence and looked back down at the blueprints after giving a token reassurance. Scott might have even been that someone, a couple of years ago. Thankfully, he wasn't that someone anymore.
"Why did you decide to do what you did on Youra?" he asked - the one question he hadn't asked at the time.
"We were already down. Getting Jack out would've slowed the operation and taken away the element of surprise." Marie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking at Scott out of the corner of her eye. "And," she added quietly, "my gut said it was the best choice Ah had."
"So why are you doubting yourself?" He didn't let her answer before he went on. "The job got done. Jack didn't hurt anyone, or get anyone hurt. Why the doubt?" It was hardly fair, and he wouldn't blame her if she pointed out just how often he had second-guessed himself, but he wanted to see what she answered.
Rogue wished she could explain that part of it was because she'd seen what it had done to Garrison, to be teamed with someone like that. Instead, she said the other part. "Because Ah had no way of knowing that for sure and basically relied on luck." She smiled weakly at Scott. "And Ah'm realizing that sometimes that's part of what we have to do."
"True. And you also put a friend in a tough spot," Scott, who had after all talked not just to Marie, but also to Garrison and Jim, said with a curious combination of gentleness and an utter lack of mercy. "I know what that's like, you know. I ordered Lorna to leave someone to die not too long ago, remember."
"Ah read the report," Rogue said. "But Ah guess that's one of the problems with our little setup. We're coworkers, teammates, friends...talk about dual relationships. Adds another layer of complexity to what we do."
"You won't get any disagreement from me," Scott said, looking back at the blueprints. "It's negotiating that layer that's the tricky part. I speak as someone who goes into the field with his spouse - I'm always wondering about my ability to be objective. But I think so long as I'm wondering, I'm probably doing what I need to do to stay on the right side of the line." He was silent again for a moment. "You, Cain, and Garrison - you'll be the primaries, going into the conference hall. Think you can keep the two of them in line?"
Marie grinned and nodded. "Them two? No sweat. Cain knows what he's doing and so does Garrison, even if he still new to actual action. Personalities should mesh well too. We'll get the job done."
She was missing the implication. That tickled him, in a perverse sort of way - but didn't stop him from hammering them home, even so. "Then go grab your team, Rogue, and get them over here for a briefing."
My what? She turned her head to cast a rather odd look at Scott, before her smile grew just a little. "Aye aye captain."
--
"Take the food, for example. By my watch, fifty-five minutes dealing with what they want. Every time they're ready, I toss something else. Any food allergies in case a hostage has a lethal reaction. Religious requirements. Candy." Garrison pointed out. "They have all the power here, at least they think, so they are willing to take my delay as an effort to please. This meal bought us an hour more."
Scott nodded. He'd gotten the tactical plan mostly settled - well, the core of it anyway, given that they couldn't really foresee what Saidullayev himself might do if they had to go in. He'd left Nathan and Jean upstairs tossing around possibilities, figuring that once they'd started debating Askani telekinetic combat techniques that they didn't really need him sitting there asking him to explain what the fuck they were talking about. Coming down to check with Garrison had seemed like a good alternative, and he'd caught the other man between conversations with the hostage-takers.
"The militia's looking increasingly unsettled," he commented quietly. "Some are getting impatient, some just look tired... I hope Saidullayev's people are more the latter than the former."
"That's the danger in hostage taking, even with highly trained people. It's both incredibly dangerous and boring as hell. Those terrorists know one misstep and a sniper will put one into their temple. However, no one can remain sharp and alert for hours on end. The longer this takes, the more difficult it gets for them to hold out and to kill the hostages. They are more and more becoming people, and less targets to them." Kane motioned at the phone. "You can't not talk to them, and after a while, you start to empathize with them. Stockholm Syndrome works in both directions."
"I'm sure in general that's true," Scott said after a moment, "but I wouldn't count on it holding true for Saidullayev himself. You read what we have on him, and what he tried to pull in San Francisco back in the fall. That's even setting aside the fact that he doesn't need anyone's help to kill every single one of those hostages." He reached down his link with Jean, assessingly, and realized she was still deep in conversation with Nathan. "He's telekinetic without being telepathic, remember. Power but no built-in empathy."
"Saidullayev's profile is what worries me. He's smart enough to have pulled this in the US and gotten away. That means he's got another plan here, beyond just walling himself behind human shields." Kane flipped open the file. "A guy like this knows that Russia doesn't want to bargain. I'm wondering if it's another plan. Like he wants to force a breach as an excuse to kill everyone in there. If he's got a teleporter on staff, he gets out clean. For the cost of a half dozen trained mutants, Russia gets both barrels from the EU and the States in response to getting their people killed. That's more damaging than a hundred Chechen political prisioners back on the street. That's why I'm glad I've been getting others on the phone. If I can weaken them, Saidullayev is going to have to be convincing on how they're all going to get clear."
"He left a number of people behind in San Francisco," Scott observed. "It's too bad we don't know if that's working against him or not, with his people." He slipped off his headset, to adjust it properly. He hadn't been expecting to wear it for hours on end like this. "I've been listening in," he said after a moment. They'd come in on the tail end of the negotiations back in Rio, once everything had started going south. He'd never heard the whole process like this before. "You seem to be doing a lot of temporizing. That part of the technique?"
"You noticed that? Yeah, you never tell a hostage taker 'no' directly. Makes them angry and closes the conversation. You have to play for time, give them options." Kane pointed at the police. Doing so, he noticed that the one-eyed man Robatkin had been speaking to was gone, and a tall redhead was in his place. For a second, he thought it was Scott's wife standing there. Both women shared the same tall frame and strong features. "They have a lot of 'no' surrounding them right now. Being given positive responses makes them less eager to go into that final decision. Keeps them talking."
"Speaking of..." Jean was poking him. "I think our telekinetics have come up with a strategy of their own. I should go back upstairs and hear it." He smiled a very wry, slight smile at Garrison. "Keep in mind that a successful end to the negotiations might also preclude three telekinetics having at each other in the streets of Moscow. Just in case you need any extra incentive."
"Yeah, because I hadn't been feeling the pressure before."
Scott paused as he rose. "I'm no expert, but you seem to have a handle on the situation so far. Honestly, I'd like nothing more than to see you start a new trend where we don't actually have to go in and get shot at," he said quietly, calmly. In sharp contrast to most of the people around him, Scott had started showing the tension less and less as the hours had gone by. "I'll just be up there listening to my wife and her training partner scare the crap out of me - yell if you need me."
--
They had found, amazingly, a large bag of trail mix in one of the suitcases. It was very nearly ideal, given that it was entirely possible that they were going to need large amounts of energy at some point tonight. Samie had crept into the washroom, filling two cups of water as quietly as she could, and then come back to join Angelo beside the window.
"This actually isn't bad," she said very softly, picking out a chocolate chip.
He looked at her sideways, with a faint rueful grin. "For trail mix, huh? Hell of a holiday for you."
"Yes, I think I'll skip Moscow and just go home next time," she murmured ruefully. "At least there you only have to worry about sometimes getting blown up in the streets. The militants aren't much for hostage-taking."
"Sorry I dragged you in on this," was the genuinely apologetic answer.
Samie gave him a startled look. "This isn't your fault," she protested, still careful to keep her voice low. "And besides..." The smile she gave him was anything but sweet. 'Wicked' would just about cover it. "I'm not sure last night wasn't worth the hostage situation."
"Me an' mine are trouble magnets," he pointed out, trying to keep it light, then raised his eyebrows at her. "That so?"
She may have blushed, just a little. It was hard to tell, in the near-darkness of the room. "I paid you one entirely too forward compliment, Angelo Espinosa," she said mock-sternly. "Now you're just... how do you say it, fishing?"
Angelo laughed quietly, dipping a hand into the trail mix bag again. "Well, it was just askin' for it."
"I suppose if this was a movie," Samie went on after a few moments of silence, "you and I would be rushing out there and fighting terrorists. I'm glad it's not..." She paused briefly. "Why is Nathan across the street?" she asked, unexpectedly.
Angelo shot her a slightly confused look. "You mean... why is he across the street, or why's he in Moscow at all?"
"Why is he across the street?" Her blue eyes met his, very steadily. "Because this isn't a movie."
"...no, it's not." He grinned wryly, not looking away. "But sometimes my life feels like one. Nate never told you what he - well, we, now - do apart from the day jobs, did we?"
"No..." Samie tilted her head at him, her expression gone almost contemplative. "But I have been paying attention, 'Sancho'. There is much more going on here than I know about, I think. But as long as you tell me that it's all right..."
There was a brief silence before he answered that. "It's... it depends what you mean, 'all right'. It's nothin' illegal, most of the time, but it's not always safe. Obviously."
"So long as you're not a bad guy. You're not, are you?" The words were entirely serious. Her expression was anything but.
"No," he answered with no hesitation at all this time. "We're the good guys, Samie, I promise. An' there's people out there, I know for a fact, who're goin' to do everythin' they can to make sure this ends well, too."
Samie's smile didn't fade, but it turned more reflective as she laid her head back on his shoulder. "Are you frightened?" she asked after a moment. "I don't mean right now. I mean about doing... good things that aren't safe."
"Depends on the things," he told her. "Sometimes, yeah, I have been. But it's worth doin' anyway."
"Nathan does these things too, then."
"Yeah, he does. An' for a lot longer than I've been. I'm still just a trainee."
"You do good things that aren't safe," Samie said, "and you go to places like Kashmir, that aren't safe... to do good things... all right, yes. I do see the pattern."
"Actually," he said with a faint chuckle, "Kashmir was part of the day job."
Samie put a hand over her mouth in the gesture that Angelo had learned meant she was suppressing a giggle. "... do you have a secret identity?"
He grinned at her, oddly relieved to see her laughing. "In a way, I guess I do. The whole 'Sancho' thing..."
"Sancho... like Sancho Panza? And that would make Nathan..."
"Don Quixote. Exactly."
"Somehow that isn't as reassuring as it should be." Samie gave a sigh. "You know that because we're up here, we might get out of this even if things go badly downstairs. It's strange, but I feel guilty about that."
"It was meant to be a joke," he said, eyeing her worriedly. "He's not really Don Quixote, as he keeps pointin' out... an' you shouldn't. I brought you here, I'm gonna keep you safe."
"I believe you. I suppose I'm just scared. For myself and for all those people who were listening to that speech, too."
"If it helps, just remember the guys down there need those people. They can't get whatever it is they want without a bargainin' chip."
"It's funny, to hope that they do get what they want..." Samie murmured.
"Think of it as hopin' for the best endin' we can get. If that's just everybody down there gettin' out, even if it means everybody... sometimes you've gotta take what you can get."
--
Kane checked his watch and sighed. Seven hours in. The hostages had been taken over twenty hours ago. Saidullayev still worried him, but he was making progress with Ivina, the woman he'd left much of the negotiations too. In a way, Saidullayev had made Garrison's job unwittingly easier. Every time he talked to her, she'd have to relate back to Kane his decision. Kane could then make further suggestions, demanding more time in consultation. It had lengthened the process, and bought him time he might not have gotten. He was also building up a nice profile on her, and there were possibilities. She was an ideological patriot, which meant she was dangerous, but also that her passion could be turned back on her. Soldiers and patriots craved honour, and hostage taking was the antithesis of that. He'd been slowly getting her to discuss her career and stroking the pride of the warrior facing a real challenge. She wouldn't hesitate to kill an innocent, but she was starting to question the value of it.
The phone buzzed, and Garrison was almost surprised to hear Saidullayev at the other end.
"Dominion. You know that when I leave, I could walk out the door and there is nothing the militia could do to stop me, yes?" There was a touch of anger in Saidullayev's voice, for perhaps the first time in any of their conversations thus far. "But I will not leave my people to find their own way. You have not told me if the bus and the plane are arranged, for when our demands have been met."
"We're working on both of them right now, Saidullayev. We need to know what kind of plane you want, so we can arrange for the right range and fueling." Garrison had been doing well, tying them up in details. The bus alone had taken an hour as the terrorists switched their minds. "We also can't provide something that will hold all the hostages."
Saidullayev swore in Chechen. "This is stalling, yes?" he demanded, his accent thickening. In the background, Garrison could hear angry voices, speaking Chechen.
"You've been through this before, Saidullayev. We have to make arrangements, clear them through the channels. You know the Russians are dragging their feet as much as they can." Kane took a breath. "And our governments know it. It's another success for you there, you know. They are the ones endangering the hostages right now."
"I do not consider this a success, American." There was a dangerous level of anger seething beneath the telekinetic's voice. Had Garrison been in the conference room with him, he would have seen furniture started to rattle dangerously, felt the tremor beginning in the floor. "If this is... how do you say, a divide and conquer strategy? You do not wish to leave me with no choice but to create a way for my people to escape. There would be many dead, and not only among the hostages."
"Why chance your people on that? For the lives of people who don't matter to your cause in any case? You want something and right now, you've got currency to make it happen. Only a fool or a Russian devalues his money before trying to buy." Kane wiped the sweat from his upper lip. "They are willing to buy, Saidullayev, and I think you know that."
"This is too slow, Dominion," was the growled response. "I know these tactics. You wish to draw this out? Then we will draw this out. You will speak to Ivina now, while I speak to my people."
Garrison let out a breath as Saidullayev passed over the phone. The man was devillishly clever, and Kane was aware how easily he could make a misstep that cost someone their life with him. Ivina came on, her voice more tired than anything. Garrison had learned that Saidullayev felt himself above the more mundane details, like blankets and lunch, leaving them to his deputy.
"Yankee, we want a television crew inside," she said. This was Saidullayev's gamble. He was going to make some sort of statement that he wanted the world to get, to embarass Russia. "A private Western one, like your CNN."
"I'll see what I can do about that, Ivina. They might be reluctant, if they think you might take them hostage," Kane countered easily. A television crew would be worth at least two or three hours to him now.
"They will have safer treatment than the Russians have planned." Behind Borakin's dry translation, Ivina's voice had gone sharp and Garrison frowned. It was an odd reaction to his comment, out of character.
"Ivina, I will ask them, but it will take time. They will need to clear things with their networks and their governments before they can do anything. You do want to make sure your story gets out correctly, don't you?"
"You will regret this, Yankee." The line suddenly went dead and a chill ran through Garrison. What had just happened? He keyed the command frequency. "We have a problem. Ivina reacted totally off the profile, and went hostile." He was amazed he could keep his voice steady. "Cyclops, prep for a Go order. I don't understand what has just happened."
"Understood," he heard his team leader say, as Scott started giving quiet orders over the X-Men's coms.
"You were mistranslated," a cool, slightly accented voice said behind him, almost in his ear. Kane turned to find himself face to face with the redheaded woman.
"What?"
"Subtly, but there none the less." She held up an identity card. "Natasha Romanova, FSB. This one switched a few key words."
Boradin turned red-faced. "That is a lie."
"Major." Natasha said softly and cruelly. "That is a lie, Major. Correct?"
"I--" Boradin had gone from red to white at her words, and it finally caught up with Garrison.
"What did you change? What--" He reached out and ripped the headset off of Boradin. "Get out, now!" He turned back to Natasha desperately. The red light on his phone switch had just turned on. "Please, I need a Chechen speaker."
Kane thrust the headset into her hands, and keyed over the comm.
"I believed that you and I were speaking together as men," came Saidullayev's voice, calm on the surface but a twist of something ugly and enraged beneath the facade. "Now Ivina tells me that you are not taking us seriously. That you dismiss us, as the Russians do. Shall I show you otherwise, Dominion? There are... twelve hostages, in front of me. I could reach out and crush their hearts with a thought. It is a trick the Russians taught me. Very simple. I find that I like the idea of using it here, to remind you and them why you must take me seriously. Shall I?" A pause. "Or shall I find the Americans in the room, and kill them instead?"
"Listen to me, Saidullayev." Kane was scrabbling desperately. "The only thing between the Russians and you right now is me. This has been engineered. They don't care about the hostages, and you know that. If you do this, I can't get anything for you. The Europeans will only put pressure on the Russians if there's a reasonable chance you'll give up the hostages. Why let the Russians make you throw away your plan?"
More angry voices in the background. Saidullayev's voice moved away from the phone, barked out something in Chechen, and the other voices fell silent. "If you are not in control of the situation, American, why am I speaking to you?" he demanded. "If you are so easily manipulated by these-" He spat something out in Chechen, clearly profane. "-why do I believe anything you say?"
"Because if you can't, your mission is already a failure. You came here to bring the Russians to task, Saidullayev, not to kill people. You stop dealing with me, they win." Kane gritted his teeth. "And now, they've just given you the big club. They tried to force you into action, and our governments will know. They can force the Russians to talk fair."
"You are so certain you know my mission, Dominion?" They could hear Ivina's voice in the background, still sounding angry, as Saidullayev paused. The silence dragged on for a moment, her words in Chechen and mostly unintelligible, but her tone oddly persuasive. Saidullayev made a noise that was half-growl, half-assent.
"I will hang up now, American," was his response, in the end. "My people and I must talk. I would suggest-" Saidullayev's tone was almost venomous, "that you and the Russian pigs decide who is giving the orders there. Before I call back."
The comm line went dead.
Garrison took a second to close his eyes. That was too close. Boradin had nearly touched off a confrontation, obviously what Robatkin had in mind all along. That way, the Colonel could blame the Westerners and give Russia a way out that both saved face and required no concessions.
"Cyclops, I think we're back in business, but he's very angry. He knows that I'm losing control of the situation, and that's going to make him nervous." Kane had switched to the private signal and then back to the command com.
"I'm keeping everyone in position," was Scott's calm-sounding reply. "Cable and Phoenix are scanning the building. We can be in there in ten seconds if we have to be, Dominion." Left unsaid was that he was counting on Garrison to give them the word when the word needed to be given.
The comm light went back on, and Garrison flipped the channel open. Natasha was waiting, providing his translation. He was relieved to hear Ivina's voice on the line, rather than Saidullayev's.
"Ivina, we're talking to the news crews now."
"You should tell them to watch the front doors, Yankee. Like you said, the Russians wish to storm in here and kill us. So we will give them a hostage, with the whole world watching. That will make them think about the consequences of testing us." Her voice was back to the icy tone that she'd had at the beginning. Garrison signaled the police that a hostage was coming out.
"It will help your demands, Ivina. It shows you're willing to negotiate."
"Yes, she will have our new demands." Something felt wrong, but Kane forced it back, watching the front doors through the window of the coffee shop. Things were on a razor edge, so any hostage they could get out helped the odds.
A middle-aged blonde woman stumbled out the door, obviously shoved from the lobby. She had a piece of paper pinned to the front of her jacket - the new demands, assumed Kane. She took a halting step forward, finding her balance after hours trapped sitting on a floor.
Kane opened his mouth, to shout a warning or just to curse, he hadn't figured out when he caught sight of the man at the door. The rifle came up, and fired two rounds through the back of the blonde woman's head. She twisted and crumpled, like a puppet with the strings cut. Ivina's voice was the only thing in the stunned silence, triumphant over Natasha's calm translation.
"There is your hostage, Yankee. We'll be giving you the rest like this until you meet our demands." The line went dead.
Garrison stood stock still as the command centre erupted in noise. Orders were being shouted, and two militia went forward under the guns of a dozen more to grab the body and drag it behind the lines. Kane's eyes followed it, the ruddy line winding out behind it.
Scott didn't curse - didn't react at all to the dead woman herself, in fact. "Stay on position," he said over the coms. "Dominion, are we a go?" Nothing from Kane. He was frozen, Scott realized. "Garrison," he said, softly but more forcefully.
"Yeah, I, uh--" Kane shook his head from side to side. "Kill... kill the power. The whole building, now." He flipped the channel over. "Negotiator has lost control. I advise breaching the building." He looked puzzled, preoccupied as he said it, his voice strangely flat. Romanova's green eyes were on him, considering as he opened and shut his empty hands over and over.
"All teams, thirty second countdown," Scott said, not sure whether or not to stop Garrison as he saw the younger man moving towards his position. Necessity won out; they had limited manpower, and they needed him on the team going into the conference hall. He would shake this off, or he wouldn't. Hopefully the former. "Rogue, make sure your team gets in there fast. Cable, Phoenix... let's not let this bastard get away this time."
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