Chapter 3: The Chaos
Mycroft would never mistake the sound of Kalashnikov machine gun knocking against the metal of the elevator door. He had seen too much, been through too much, and had the scars to prove it. Without even looking back at the elevator to confirm, he dived forward.
The sickening sound of gunshots started. Screams erupted like an avalanche, blanketing the room with sheer terror.
Still staying low on the ground, Mycroft moved swiftly toward the left side of grand piano for cover. Years of habit had served him well. When he had first entered the lobby, Mycroft immediately scanned, calculated, and determined that the grand piano was the optimal tactical location for cover if anything should happen. The grand piano was located slightly off center to the lobby, backed by a ceiling high waterfall fountain. The piano's top board fortuitously raised in an angle and neatly covered line of sight from an assailant if one were to make a dash toward the green emergency exit sign.
Having established his tactical position, Mycroft then started to scan the panic crowd for Gregory. Mycroft quickly located Holly Gennaro as she frantically latched onto a tall man that was distinctively not Gregory Lestrade. Her lover then. Her boss. Arrogant prick. Gregory must still be trapped in the office. Despite their rocky marriage, Gregory would have been by his wife's side, protective and strong.
Good. Good. Office was good. He would have enough time to come up with something.
Mycroft then switched his focus to his young security detail. When he located the young man, lying supine with a hole in his forehead, Mycroft altered his assessment of the situation. Those had not been warning shots after all.
It would be too much risk to retrieve his gun when his dead security detail was on the other side of the room.
Another round of machine gun fired and the screaming and crying all mixed into cacophony.
The intruders, flanking the panic crowd from all sides, were now efficiently rounding them up like cattles to the center of lobby. Mycroft stayed put. His location would be considered as part of the circle. His tactical position was not breached yet.
But his good luck did not continue. Mycroft's heart sank as he watched the obviously trained professionals wasted no time to immediately split into 2 groups. One group continued to round the hostages into the center, while the other group started to methodically sweep through offices, yanking people hidden in the rooms.
They were just 4 doors before Gennaro's office.
Mycroft's brilliant mind came to a stutter. Multiple threads of thoughts tangled into a mess.
Workplace grudge…., no, no. Too professional. Robbery? Terrorism? Military uniforms. Weapons. ATTITUDE. Specific target? Him? Takagi? Fuck. 3 doors to Gennaro's office…. back, back, back.. Target. Takagi? Nicolson? Swatnamm? Middle east? No. European then. That's Hans Gruber standing at the… Political? Money? The vault has 640 Million of.. Hans was expounded from.. Sod that. Need to distract the gunmen so Gregory could have time. Gennaro's office was close to the emergency stairwell exit. A commotion would be sufficient for Gregory to make it. What could attract attention? 2 doors now. Too much screaming. Too many rounds of gunshots. Too many people running… Lights.. lights… blind them, startle them. Darkness.. switch.. too far. Fucking hell. What could…
A half-naked woman was suddenly pulled from the office 2 doors before Gennaro's office by a smirking gunman.
Mycroft didn't even realize he was holding his breath until he saw a familiar figure, stealthily dashing through the narrow hallway under the cover of cat-calling, whistles, screaming, and gunshots. A smile curled on Mycroft's face as he watched the silver haired policeman yanked open the fire-proof door and slipped into the safety of the dark stairwell.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!
Lestrade panted. In his haste, he barely had the sense to grab his gun and used the naked woman as a distraction to make it into the stairwell. He was keenly aware of the coldness of the concrete floor against his bare feet. And with no cell phone.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!
But he could not stop. He would have to get Holly later. He had to find a safe place first to observe and assess. No way was he going to abandon her.
Jesus. That fucking Ellis better shut his mouth and lay low.
Lestrade sped up and run up the stairs. He cracked open the first door and was confronted with a half-finished partitions and office furniture in its original plastic wrappings.
Right. If he remembered correctly, Nakatomi Building was just recently built and not all floors were completed yet.
"32 construction, 33 computers..." He muttered as he took a peek into each floor and then quickly quietly closed the door.
As Lestrade started to open the door to the machine room on 36th floor, a loud noise gripped his attention.. He closed the door and moved up one flight.
The one good thing about being barefoot was that he was as silent as a cat in the still of night. Very quietly, he cracked the door and looked into the floor which evidently had access to the roof.
Fuck. Lestrade counted 3 terrorists, all dressed in proper gear, speaking German. The wooden crates looked military grade.
Bloody hell. He came to LA to deal with his marriage and now he has to fucking deal with professional terrorists.
Great. This was just great.
He had never imagine a day that could be more dangerous working with the daredevil named Sherlock.
Apparently today was the day.
Lestrade gingerly closed the door and slipped back to the 32nd floor of construction.
With Lestrade out of the way, Mycroft was able to refocus on the situation. The target of this operation would have to be either himself or Takagi. Hans Gruber had a fallout with his organization three months ago. If he desired to fund his own operation, 640 million dollars would be well worth the effort. If he wanted secrets, well, no one better than the personification of the British government would do the job.
"Ladies and gentleman, due to the Nakatomi Corporation's legacy of greed around the globe..." Hans began, stepping into the spotlight, "it is about to be taught a lesson on real power."
His security detail dead with bullet in his head. execution. Not a random shot…
"You.." Hans paused, a smile spread across his handsome face, as he scan through the hostages before him. "...will be witnesses."
Mycroft was lured into taking on this last minute "errand" and without his usual people...
"Now.. where is Takagi?"
Mycroft did not missed Hans' cold eyes lingered on him for just that fraction of second more before they settled on Mr. Takagi. "There you are. Come, come. Mr. Takagi. We would love to have a nice little chat."
Ah. Of course. Why not both the secret and the funding.
Still crouching on the ground like all other hostages, Mycroft slowly reached into his left sock. His fingers wrapped around a small pill against his left ankle.
Under no circumstances would he be put in a position of divulging secrets. He could withstand a lot of pain. But given enough time, even he could be broken. Mycroft personally knew 27 methods to accomplish that goal.
These people were professionals and they would have already been jamming any cellular signals. Anthea would just be start looking for him in the NEXT hour.
Eyes tracking every movement of the gunmen, Mycroft slowly and discreetly brought the pill to his mouth. The pill was cool against his lips. He hesitated. Closing his eyes, Mycroft paraded sentiments, regrets, and could haves through his mind palace.
John would take care of Sherlock…
Gregory would have no idea of his...
"Mr. Holmes. Would you like to join us for a little chat as well?"
Mycroft swallowed the pill and opened his eyes. He coughed and let his empty hands dropped to his side as naturally as possible. "Well. Mr. Gruber. I thought you never asked." Mycroft pushed himself up slowly. He would prefer to look Hans in the eyes at the same level. "The pleasure is all mine."
The gel capsule would take 1 hour to dissolve. After that, well… it would be a one-way ticket for a vacation that Mycroft deserved.
Mycroft mentally started the clock as he and Mr. Takagi were led to the elevator.
Think. THINK!
Lestrade stared out of the expensive window from the 32nd floor. Not too far from the Nakatomi Building, he could see another high rise. An apartment was lit and a beautiful woman leisurely walking around her living room with yoga gear. Even at the distance, Lestrade could tell she had nice curves. But the DI did not linger on that thought. Rather, he cursed that he was not a marksman like John.
John would have been able to shot through the window to alert the beautiful neighbor about this take-over situation.
Lestrade knocked his head against the window. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw that the elevator was now moving. It stopped at 35th floor conference room.
Great. Just great. What are they up to now?
Lestrade went down a floor and quietly opened the door to the conference room where the elevator had stopped.
"This is too nice a suit to ruin, Mr. Takagi. I'm going to count to three. There will not be a four. Give me the code to the vault."
Robbery. Lestrade mentally registered and started to crawl toward the voices. It was behind the door of a conference room framed by artistically frosted glasses. He withdrew his handgun and crouched under an office desk. From where he was, he couldn't make out the people's faces, but judging from the shapes, he could see there were 6 people in the room, all seated around the conference table.
"I don't know it! Get on a goddamn jet to Tokyo and ask the chairman! I'm telling you! You're just going to have to kill me -"
The unexpected gunshot startled Lestrade. He reacted and bumped into the underside of the desk loudly.
Fuck.
For a brief moment, Lestrade had hoped that the people in the conference didn't hear it. But the hope faltered when he saw movement in the conference room.
Lestrade quickly retreated into an office and locked the door. He sucked in a breath and listened.
Door were opened and shut loudly nearby. Footsteps came closer. The doorknob to his office rattled.
Lestrade held up his handgun and aimed at the door.
The doorknob rattled again. Harder. Rougher.
Lestrade held a breath.
"Karl, there is nothing. Go and prep the roof. Tony, you stay here."
Lestrade relaxed. He rested his head against the wall.
"Theo. Can you break the code?"
"You didn't bring me along for my charming personality, did you?"
"Well. I do bring insurance. We are on a schedule after all. I am sure Mr. Holmes here is more than able to break the code as well."
In shock, Lestrade turned his head toward the door.
Holmes?
"I regret to say that breaking a computer code would not be a talent of mine. My dear brother on the other hand, would have a better chance."
Mycroft?
"Mr. Holmes. You are too humble. I am sure a man of your resources and talents would be more than useful."
Lestrade slowly moved toward the door. He quietly unlocked and cracked open the door.
"I am afraid you will have to do better than flattery."
Fuck. It is Mycroft Holmes. Why the bloody hell was he here? Never mind that… Think. Goddamn it. THINK! Can't have another person killed…
"Well… Karl is gone but he did leave me a set of nice tools for me to convince you otherwise. Would you like to see it?"
Lestrade paced in the room wildly until his eye suddenly rested on the smoke detector in the ceiling. In a quick movement, he grabbed and dumped any paper he could get in his hands into the trash can. He frantically reached into his pocket and withdrew a lighter.
Thank god for smoking.
He wasted no time to light up the paper. Picking up the now burning trash can, Lestrade scrambled onto the desk. He held it to the smoke detector as close as possible. He watched the black smoke slowly rising.
Come on. Come on!
"Those are really not up to par to my taste. Mr. Gruber."
Really, Holmes? Can you just shut your mouth for once? Come on sprinkler! Come on!
"Hans. This is ridiculous. You know they want him alive. I can break the code. Just give me thirty….. Fuck! What the hell! My computer!"
Lestrade watched in fascination as the water spread out of the sprinkler. He had never seen anything so beautiful...
"Theo, take your precious computer down to the lobby. NOW! Tony, you watch Holmes here. Do not let anyone get close to him."
Lestrade heard the footsteps following the order. Radio static ensued shortly.
"Eddie? Call 911 and give them the name and badge number on your uniform and cancel…" The voice clipped at the same time as the elevator chimed.
Lestrade took a deep breath, counted his luck, and burst through the door.
Good. There was only one man left to guard Mycroft.
The silver-haired policeman pulled the trigger and shot in the direction of man that was not Holmes.
Tony screamed as he pressed his hand on his now injured arm. "Fucking hell! Where the…"
Fuck! For the 2nd time, Lestrade cursed that he was no John Watson.
"Gregory?"
"Take cover! Take cover!" Lestrade barked as he rolled to the side. Wedging between the desks, he fired again quickly, this time it hit the leg.
A machine gun fired aimlessly, as Tony screamed in agony.
"Mycroft! Take cover! Take cover!" Lestrade felt his heart sank as he watched Mycroft drop down.
Fuck. Fuck! I need to take him down. I need to take that fucker down now!
Lestrade immediately crawled toward the madman who was now firing into anything around him. He stood up.
Don't hit me… don't hit me.. don't hit me yet…
The luck was on Lestrade's side as the man was facing the other way. "You got one shot.. one shot.." Lestrade chanted as he stilled his arm. "one shot.. one shot." He took aim.
He pulled the trigger and watched the man named Tony went down.
The sprinkler stopped at the same time as Lestrade moved cautiously toward the downed gunman. A spread of crimson red blossomed under the stilled hostile.
Lestrade breathed. Hard.
Tony was the first man Lestrade had killed in 14 years.