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The terrorists led us down to the basement of the complex. My brain was in overdrive, trying to find a way out. There was none: we were surrounded and unarmed. If we so much as twitched the wrong way, our bodies would be full of holes in about twenty seconds. Even if, by some miracle, we did escape without getting shot, we wouldn’t last long in Shing’s stronghold with weapons.
Down, down, down we went. I snuck a look at Rachael. She had her jaw clenched, her head held high, and her eyes showed her determination. Pity she’s an American: she would’ve made a wonderful French Special Agent.
We finally reached the basement. Our guards escorted us down the granite hallway and into a perfectly square room. The walls of the room were made of concrete. Manacles hung from chains on the walls. A large metal table was situated in the middle of the room directly under several high-powered lights.
First the guards led me to a wall and chained me to it with my arms above my head. From here, I got a profile view of the table. Then they led Rachael to the table, set her down, and chained her to it. Then they left without a word, leaving the two of us in silence.
I don’t know how long we were chained here. All I know is that is was hot. Very hot. I could see the glistening sweat on Rachael’s face. We called for water several times, but no one came. It was at the last futile call that I realized what Shing was doing to us: he was going to kill us by dehydration.
After I don’t know how many minutes, the doorknob suddenly jostled. I blinked the sweat out of my eyes just in time to see a man come in with a bag. He looked Italian and had black hair and brownish eyes. He was about six feet tall. To my utter amazement, instead of turning around and leaving, he walked over to us, unchained us, and handed us each a water bottle!
For about a minute the only sounds were the buzzing of the overhead lights, the gulps of water going down our parched throats, and our steady breathing.
After Rachael and I drained our bottles, we handed them back to our savior. “Thanks” I breathed, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“But why are you helping us?” Rachael asked while moving her arms to get her circulation going again.
The guy said nothing, and just handed us our handguns. When he did speak, he did with a French accent. “We’re all on the same side, non? We all want to see Shing dead.”
“Ah. The common enemy scenario.” I remarked.
The man glared at me. “You shouldn’t speak so flippantly, Monsieur Napoleon. It could get you killed.”
“Anyway”, Rachael interrupted before I could retort. “Do you know were the computer chip is?”
“Of course.” The man said. “Shing’s private office.”
I just stared. Out of all the things I don’t like hearing, that had to be near the top of my list.
“You want us to break into your boss’ office?” Rachael asked incredulously. “Are you nuts?”
“Listen” The man hissed urgently. “I know it’s a lot to ask-”
“You bet it is” Rachael muttered.
“-but I think you can do it. His office is on the fiftieth floor, but there won’t be a lot of guards since he’ll send all of them to look for you after discovering you escaped.”
I thought about this for a second. How can we trust him? I wondered. He could be working for Shing and leading us into a trap.
Rachael gritted her teeth. “Okay. Let’s do this thing.”
That got my attention. “What?!”
Rachael was already walking away. “Come on Mr. Special Agent, let’s just get the chip and go home.”
After a moment’s hesitation, I ran after her.
* * *
We were now in the elevator, speeding up to the 50th floor. We checked our guns, making sure we had full clips and that our silencers were equipped. We both knew that the slightest thing could mean the difference between life and death.
Did I have any thoughts as the elevator dinged? Was there anything I wanted to say as the door slid open? Were there any doubts as I noticed the squad of guards arrayed in front of us, their guns raised?
No, there was nothing to say, nothing to think. Just things to doubt, like our savior’s integrity. I mean, Shing’s security was good, but it wasn’t this good. Someone had to have tipped them off. And the only one who knew we were coming up here, aside from us, was the man who rescued us.
Then they opened fire. Soon, all thoughts not related to the battle were pushed aside, and my battle mind kicked in. I kept the doors of the elevator open while occasionally leaning around the wall I was hiding behind to squeeze off a shot or two before ducking again. I didn’t shoot much: I only had one clip so I had to use my shots sparingly. Every shot hit a target. Every shot took a life.
Soon, the sounds of gunfire stopped. I cautiously leaned around the wall and saw the blood spattered hallway. I motioned to Rachael and together we made our way to the door at the other end of the corridor, taking care to avoid the bodies of the dead men.
When we reached the door, I immediately saw that we had another hurdle to jump over: Shing had installed a password-protected lock on his office door.
I swore and punched the wall in frustration, swearing again as my hand erupted in pain. We didn’t have time to guess the password. Everyone in the building probably heard the gunfight up here, so we probably had five minutes to get inside.
I turned to Rachael, expecting her to be pulling her hair out and cursing. I was half-right: she was cursing…while rummaging through her pockets?
“…What are you doing?” I asked blankly.
Rachael didn’t answer. She kept rummaging through her pockets, muttering “Where is it?” over and over again.
The seconds kept ticking away inside my head. How long had we been standing here? Three minutes? Four? Either way, we were running out of time.
Just then, Rachael gave a shout of joy. I looked at her and saw that she was holding a slip of paper in her right hand. After looking at it for a few seconds, she started to type. I looked back at the elevator and noticed that the door was shaking slightly. Someone was coming up. We probably had at least 30 seconds.
25 seconds…20…15…10...5…
“We’re in!” Rachael called just as the elevator dinged. I forced the door open just as security began pouring into the hallway. I pulled Rachael into the room and shut the door just as the first shot was fired.
As Rachael locked the door while cursing Chinese calligraphy under her breath, I looked around Shing’s private office. The guy obviously loved his country: every inch of the room was painted in the nation’s colors. The walls were painted red and the desk was the color of gold. I looked at the tiles beneath my feet; they were arranged as an exact copy of the Chinese flag. My eyes, however, were drawn back to the table. One reason was probably because it was most likely made of real gold. The other reason was because there, sitting in the middle of the desk, was the computer chip.
I began walked towards it. Rachael jogged up to me. We were barely two feet away when I heard a whooshing sound and stopped short. Good thing too: a titanium cage had fallen from the ceiling, trapping us. If I had continued walking, I would’ve been crushed.
Then I heard a deep chuckle. One that was becoming all-too familiar. My eyes searched the nearest corner of the room. There he was again: Bu Shing.
Shing stepped out of the shadows. But he wasn’t alone: our guide was with him. My reservations were right. Out escape seemed too easy. Those guards weren’t there by chance, not in those numbers.
Shing was chuckling. “Mr. Napoleon, you actually thought you could steal the chip from my private office? I knew where you were the whole time! In fact, I was wondering if you were ever going to make it here!”
From behind the titanium bars, I glared at our captors. They had played me—us—for fools. They baited us like a fisherman does to his prize, and we, like the fish, snapped it up.
Shing strolled over to his deck and held up the chip for all to see. I noticed our “savior” in the corner stir as he looked at it. Something else seemed familiar about him…
“You weren’t just after the chip, were you Mr. Napoleon?” Shing asked. “You sought the truth as well.”
I said nothing. I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of being right…again.
“Mr. Napoleon, you really can’t be this naïve. You surely must have figured it out by now.”
“Shing, just shut up.” I snapped. “If you’ve got the truth, say it. If not, just shut up.”
Shing smiled. It wasn’t a ‘you’re-my-best-friend’ smile. It was a ‘I’m-going-to-eat-you-alive’ smile. “Very well, Mr. Napoleon. I will tell you the truth. The whole truth. Nothing but the truth. I will blemish nothing. I will withhold nothing. But you will not like what you hear.”
For some reason, his words made me shudder. Somehow, I knew he wasn’t kidding.
Shing gestured to the chip once more. “This chip,” he said, “controls all of France’s 350 nuclear weapons.”
My mouth fell open.
Shing smirked. “You didn’t know? Yes, France has a master key for its weapons. Their government made one so they could launch an immediate counterattack if terrorists bombed them!”
I finally made my voice work again. “Shing, I don’t give a care about that chip. I just want to see the look on your face when I shoot you.”
Our “guide” in the corner flinched. Rachael gasped. And Shing stood there and…smiled?
“Why would you want to do that, Mr. Napoleon?”
Those words made me lose all self control. In there’s anything worse than a murderer (besides a terrorist), is a murderer who plays dumb. “Why?! Why?! I’ll tell you why Shing! You flew a plane into my house! You killed my family!”
“Firstly, wasn’t it an apartment?” Shing interrupted. “Secondly, surely it wasn’t me personally, for—”
“SHUT UP!!” I roared, rattling the cage. “STOP HIDING BEHIND TECHNICALITIES!! JUST BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T PERSONALLY FLY THAT PLANE DOESN’T MEAN YOU’RE JUST AS GUILTY!! YOU KILLED MY FAMILY, SO I’LL KILL YOU!!”
Silence reigned after my proclamation. Then Shing started laughing…laughing.
“My good man,” he chuckled, wiping a tear for his eye, “don’t you see? The French government knew this would happen!”
A chill went up my spine. “What do you mean?”
Shing smile—if possible—grew wider. “They created the perfect weapon. All it took was one little sacrifice.”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!” I hollered.
“It was the French government, Mr. Napoleon. They were the ones who killed your family."