The Housewife Assassin's Hostage Hosting Tips (Housewife Assassin Series Book 9) (31 page)

When the doors open again, we are in my penthouse.

Mara looks around. “But…this isn’t POTUS’s suite!”

“It’s mine,” I say.

She and I grab Ed’s body and lug it into the foyer. I take Ed’s security card from his pocket. Lee’s other men may need it.

Mara follows me to the closet holding the C Elevator. “Behind these doors is the elevator that goes exclusively to the concierge level,” I explain. “But each penthouse security card can summon it as well. It’s a security measure.” I tap the doors. “Help me pry open these doors. Afterward, we’ll call Jack and Lee on the house phone to tell them what happened downstairs. They need to pry open the doors to this elevator shaft on Lee’s side as well. That way we’ll be able to leap through the shaft.”

Try as we might, the doors refuse to open unless the elevator is summoned–something I’m not willing to do.

Time to call Jack.

A Secret Service agent picks up Lee’s house phone. A moment later, Jack is on the line. “What happened? Where are you?”

“In my penthouse, which is on the same level as POTUS’s. Mara is with me, but Ed and Charlie are dead, as is Luther.”

I hear Walther’s voice in the background. He’s asking about Gretta.

Before Jack can relay the message, I say, “Tell him we don’t know if Gretta was shot. She was one of the first to go into the room, so we lost sight of her.”

I explain how the penthouses share the elevator bank with the concierge elevator. “Mara and I have to pry open the door on my side. Otherwise, I’ll have to summon the elevator, and it may contain a terrorist or two.”

“Which means that we can’t summon it here, either,” Jack points out.

“Okay, let’s play this out,” Mara says. “Donna and I push the button. The elevator comes up. The door opens. Donna doesn’t have a gun but I do, which I’ll use to take out the assailant. Then at least we’ve secured the elevator, leaving the rest of the terrorists on the concierge level.”

“But if we piss them off, they may retaliate with more hostage executions,” I counter.

She shakes her head. “Donna, we have a fifty-fifty chance that no one is in there now, and we can secure it before they figure out we can summon it.”

She’s got a point.

I nod. “Jack, we’re hanging up. Listen for our knock. Shave and a haircut.”
 

“This is no time to joke, but I love you anyway.” He clicks off.

Already, I miss his voice.

Together, Mara and I move a solid wooden side table from a wall, and turn it on its side, facing the elevator.

I summon the elevator, then I position myself behind the table, while Mara flattens herself on one side of the elevator with her gun raised.

The elevator bell rings. The door opens–

From what we can tell, it’s empty.

Mara swings in, to check it out.

A man who has been hiding behind the wall to the left of the open door moves forward. He rams her in the gut with his semi-automatic rifle. As she doubles over, he swings the gun into position to fire it–

And I throw one of my knives.

The stiletto finds its mark: his jugular. Blood gushes out of him so fast that his body jerks and twitches. He grunts as he falls backward, dropping his gun before slumping to the floor.

I kick the gun away, and put the elevator on emergency hold so that I can drag Mara out onto the hallway floor.

I sit with her until she can sit up. “Are you okay?” I ask.

She nods. “Yes…thank you.”

I help her to her feet. “Let’s knock on the sides of the elevator shaft. One of them opens up into POTUS’s penthouse.”

She follows me back onto the elevator platform. We tap hard on the right side for a few minutes, yelling Jack’s name. Nothing.

We tap the backside, also calling his name.

A moment later, he answers, “Donna! Mara! I’m here.”

“Great!” A wave of relief washes over me. “Jack, you need to try POTUS’s security card in the exterior slot, to see if the door opens. If we can get it to crack just a little, we can wedge it open and pass through. But we have to keep the elevator on this level. Otherwise, the terrorists can get out, or come up.”

“Got it,” he says.

The next thing we hear is banging and the groan of the doors coming open, at least enough for us to slip through.

With Jack and Arnie’s help, Mara and I do just that.

“How many are there?” Jack asks.

“You mean, besides the maid?” Mara asks. “The security detail was flanking the meeting doorway. There were five of them. They waited until the Secretary of State, Gretta, Charlie, Ed and Luther were in the room before the action took place.”

“So, the hard men are the committee’s security team.” Jack turns to Walther for answers.

“Impossible! Luther handpicked those men,” he insists.

The penthouse phone rings. Everyone stares at it. Jack walks over and picks it up. “Yes?”

He listens for a moment, then covers the receiver with his hand.
 
“It’s Gretta! She’s alive, and asks to be put on speaker.”

Walther’s face floods with relief, but a minute later, his relief turns to anxiety as he listens along with the rest of us.
 

The fear is evident in her voice. Like him, she speaks English with a slight German accent. “Our captors are ISIL terrorists. They have purposely jammed cell phone transmissions going in and out of the building, and have cut all outside phone lines as well. All exits have been electronically sealed off.” She pauses before adding: “President Chiffray, I apologize, but I was…was beaten to confirm you are here.”

Her sobs choke her. There is a slap.

Walther winces when he hears it.

When she collects herself, she continues: “Mr. President, you are to surrender to them. If not, they will begin beheading the delegates–one every twenty minutes. They have a live video feed and will be transmitting this event to news outlets all over the world, including CNN, here in America. Should you not accede to their demands, as soon as the delegates are dead, they will seize other guests in the hotel as hostages and keep beheading until you do. However, your life for the others will stop the beheadings. Are you brave enough to sacrifice yourself for those who are innocent of deeds as heinous as yours?”

Lee sits there, stunned. Finally, he murmurs, “I will give them my answer in…in twenty minutes.”

“As an incentive, they will kill an infidel–China’s Minister of State Security. It is being broadcasted now.”

Jack clicks on the television and searches channels until he finds CNN. Anderson Cooper reports: “–exclusive footage. Let me repeat, this is a live feed, taking place here, on American soil; however, it has yet to be determined where. The international delegates had arrived, in secret, to meet with President Chiffray on the topic of a joint coalition to combat the well-funded terrorist organization known as Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant, also known as ISIL. The United States and Britain are the only countries that do not–I repeat–do not pay ransoms for hostages. In this case, the terrorists are not asking for a cash ransom. Instead, they are asking for the United States president to present himself in exchange for all the other hostages.”

Cooper stops cold. His eyes grow large. “Excuse me, breaking news! We’ve just been told that one of the delegates is to be executed now! We have a live feed, and viewer discretion is advised.”

The newsroom dissolves to grainy footage of a man kneeling against the seat of a wooden chair. His hands are tied behind his back. His shaking is visible, despite the graininess of the camera feed.

Another man stands over him with a large curved sword. He is wearing a hood, but in perfect English, he declares, “Our demand is simple–your American president for those he has turned against us and who now deny our sovereignty. The world will then decide if his ransom is worth paying–seventy trillion dollars.” He pauses, as if knowing this amount is eliciting gasps from around the world. “One by one, our hostages will be slaughtered if the coward does not come in their stead. The first beheading is
now.
”

The sword swings downward.

The man’s head falls from view, leaving his lifeless body.

The video feed cuts away. Anderson Cooper shakes his head sadly as he murmurs, “Again, what you saw was a live beheading.” The journalist turns to his co-anchor, Wolf Blitzer. “Wolf, you’ve been talking to intelligence experts on United State’s policy regarding hostages and ransoms. What is the consensus? Should President Chiffray agree to the terms? And, if not, will our allies still stand with us as their own security ministers are being sacrificed?”

“A bigger question, Anderson, is if the president acquiesces to their demand, will the United States pay a ransom, which no doubt will be larger than some of our allies’ annual budgets? Or is he the exception to the rule?”

Jack turns off the television.

I look at Lee. He has lost all color in his face. His hand shakes as he reaches for a glass of water.

A rustling can be heard on the cell phone speaker. When Gretta gets back on the phone, she says, “You have twenty minutes before the next beheading.”

The line goes dead.

“How many delegates are left?” Ryan asks.

“Four,” Walther answers. “The United Kingdom’s chairman of the Joint Intelligence Committee, as well as France’s Minister of Defense, and Secretary of State Worthington. And of course my colleague who heads
da Bundesnachrichtendienst
–Franz Heller, who is Federal Minister of Special Affairs.”

Ryan nods. “I imagine at least one security officer came with each of them?”

“Yes. But I presume they have already been killed,” Walther points out.

From the looks on the faces in the room, no one else doubts this.

“Okay, first things first,” Ryan says. “We’ll need to break the cell transmission block. Find Abu and Dominic in the lobby and fill them in as well.”

I’m relieved to know we’ve got some backup elsewhere in the building.

Arnie nods. “It’s doable, but it won’t be easy.”

“Try your damnedest,” Ryan growls. “We also need you to cut the video transmission feed they’ve set up. We can’t let the world see beheadings taking place on U.S. soil.”

“My guess is that the antenna for its transmission feed is coming from somewhere outside the building. If so, it can’t be jammed,” Arnie explains.

“Then we need to find it and kill it. At the same time, we need to get the rest of the guests out as soon as possible.”
 

“I can take my elevator to the ground floor,” I offer. “The hotel’s manager, Henry, can tell us what we need to know.”

“Arnie and I will go with you,” Jack says. “Mr. President, if the terrorists’ patience wears thin, the concierge elevator is how they’ll come looking for you.”

Lee nods at the two members of his security team left standing. They position themselves beside it.

Jack and Arnie follow us through the elevator door and into my penthouse, where we access my suite’s private elevator.

The ride down feels like an eternity.

Chapter 20

Mixing and Mingling

The key to any party’s success is getting your guests to interact. This is easily accomplished, if you:

1: Introduce party games. They can be something as simple as Mail Call (“Everyone who’s a bottom, raise your hand...”) or as complex as a scavenger hunt. (Word of caution on the latter: Don’t send the guests into your dungeon, or they may pass on your future soir
é
es.)

2: Break up couples at the dinner table. Make the seating boy-girl-boy-girl. (This assures that the men will talk about something other than sports.)
 
Doing so not only gives you an opportunity to use your new place cards and themed cardholders, it allows new friendships to emerge. (Note of caution: in the odd chance you’re called as a witness in a divorce trial, blame it on your wonderful hosting skills.)

3: Introduce a scintillating conversation topic. Should you know that someone’s wife is having an affair with another guest’s husband, by all means announce it. There’s nothing more exciting than accusations, recriminations, and admissions of guilt!

“Mrs. Stone, if you’re here to complain about the doors and phone reception, I’m already apprised of the situation, and my staff and I are working diligently to correct it.” To say that Henry is frazzled is putting it mildly.

I grab his arm. “Henry, we have a bigger problem. This is Jack Craig and Arnie Locklear. They work with a private security company associated with the National Security Agency.”

He shakes the other men’s hands.

“We have a hostage crisis taking place on the concierge level,” Jack explains. “An international terrorist group has it in lockdown. The hotel’s penthouse guests are also threatened. For now, we’ve blocked the joint elevator between the floors, so it is contained to those areas. However, the clock is ticking. People’s lives are at stake.”

Henry’s face loses all color. He eases into his chair as the realization that his hotel’s successful launch is anything but.

“Is there a way to track everyone in the building?” I ask.