Vanishing Point - Marc Cerasini [96]
"Give them time. I've been listening," the woman said, her dark eyes staring at the floor. "These guys are Cubans, soldiers or former soldiers, I think. I know they consider us the walking dead. They're only waiting for orders to pull the trigger and finish the job."
For the first time since she was captured, Megan was glad she didn't understand what the men had been saying. It would only have made the ordeal worse.
She counted her captors. There were three men guarding them, all Spanish-speakers. She watched as the man called Carlos called to one of his men and issued instructions. The man turned his back on his commander and walked to the rear of the hangar, to disappear among the crates and machinery.
"What did he say? Where is that man going?" Megan asked.
"He said Manuel has slept long enough, and that it was time for the other man to wake him," Consuelo replied.
She breathed a sigh of relief. At least that Carlos guy didn't order them all to be lined up and shot... Not yet, anyway. Searching her memory, Megan recalled that there had been four guards, and that one of them had wandered off and never came back.
Tony heard the man coming and ducked between two stacks of wooden boxes. He was armed with the Makarov, and a two-foot long, straight cutting blade he'd unscrewed from the industrial strength wire slicer. It looked like a samurai sword, but lacked a pointed tip. Nevertheless, Tony found a use for it.
The guard passed so close Tony could have tapped him on the shoulder. Instead, he waited until the newcomer approached the dead man in the chair. Then Tony crept up behind the man and slipped the noose over his head.
When the guard was dead, Tony slipped the AK-47 off his shoulder, fished through his pockets and belt. This time he came up empty. One clip of ammunition for the assault rifle was not enough to do squat, not against upwards of thirty men.
On top of that, Tony knew this guard was sent to wake the first man he'd killed. Soon the Cubans in charge would be wondering where he went, too.
Tony would have to strike quickly. He wanted to finish off the last two guards before they could raise the alarm, then secure the hangar. With the help of the hostages, they could probably hold out for an hour or so, even if the commandos attempted a counterattack to retake the position.
In any case, Tony knew there was a time limit now. Ryan Chappelle had warned him about the bombing. Tony also knew Jack Bauer was coming — they'd established a rendezvous point and a time during their telephone conversation ninety minutes ago. All Tony had to do was hold out until the cavalry arrived, or until the bombs fell.
Either way, the siege of Area 51 would end in the next couple of hours...
Megan Reed's stomach rumbled and she shifted uncomfortably. She was hungry, thirsty and she needed to go to the bathroom. They'd had no water since six AM, around the same time they were last allowed to go to the restroom. More than a third of the prisoners were still asleep, and Megan admired those who managed to find peace despite the tension and discomfort.
They must be shock, or suffering from some type of stress reaction, she deduced, wishing she could sidle over to Dr. Toth and ask his professional opinion. Only then did she notice that the physician was sleeping, too.
Unfortunately her bladder was too full for her to sleep. She had to go, and soon. At first Megan decided to wait for the other guards to return before making the embarrassing request. Then she mentally kicked herself.
What the hell is wrong with me? Do I have Stockholm Syndrome or something? I'm the victim here. Why make it easy on them?
Megan raised her hand. "Hey there. You. Hello!"
Boca and the other guard glanced in her direction. "I don't know about these other people, but I need to use the ladies' room pronto."
Sneering, Carlos looked away.
"Hey, buddy," Megan cried. "I'm talking to you."
Face curled into a cruel sneer, Carlos Boca stood up, faced her. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and slowly approached the woman. Megan could tell