CHAPTER FOUR: FOOL'S GOLD
Hans returned to the refined office that he was set up in to discover that Karl was waiting for him there. Hans impatiently threw Stephanie back into one of the chairs and sat back behind his desk, avoiding eye contact with the defiant, young blonde. When he felt it was safe, Karl walked up to Hans and leaned over the desk. By the angry look on Karl's face, it had been John that caused the explosion.
"If you'd have listened to me, he'd be neutralised already," Hans growled.
"I don't want neutral. I want dead," Karl said quietly.
"Well, great job you're doing there, buddy," Stephanie scoffed. Karl looked like he was about to turn around and strike her until a knocking at the door interrupted him. All three of them averted their eyes to the doorway.
"Hope I'm not interrupting," said a man with dark-brown hair and a scruffy beard. He looked bigheaded and not frightened at all, but he could not possibly be one of the terrorists since Fritz was eyeing him so carefully. He must have been the man that wanted to speak with Hans.
"What does he want?" snarled Hans. The man chuckled.
"It's not what I want. It's what I can give ya."
Karl turned back to Hans and gave him a suspicious look. He padded where he kept his pistol, but Hans shook his head. Karl removed himself from Hans' desk and took a spot beside Stephanie.
"Oy, let's be straight, okay? It's obvious you're not some dumb schmuck here to snatch a few purses, am I right?" The man walked further into the room, waving his hands around enthusiastically.
"You're very perceptive," Hans mocked lazily. Stephanie couldn't help but let a smile appear on her face.
"I watch 60 Minutes. I say to myself," the man continued as he stopped before the chairs, "'these guys are professional, they're motivated, they're happening, i.e., they want something,' huh? Now personally I couldn't care less about your politics. Maybe you're pissed off at the camel jockeys, maybe it's the Hebes, Northern Ireland – it's none of my business. I figure you're here to negotiate, am I right?"
"You're amazing. You figured this all out already?" Hans sneered.
The man laughed, missing the ridicule once again.
"Hey, business is business. You use a gun, I use a fountain pen. What's the difference? Let's put it in my terms," he sat down in one of the empty chairs, "You're here on a hostile take-over. You grab us for some greenmail, but you didn't expect some poison pill was going to be running around the building. Am I right? Hans, bubby, I'm your white night. "
"I must have missed 60 Minutes. What are you saying?" Hans leaned forward, disconcerted.
The man smiled.
"The guy upstairs is fucking things up, huh?" he directed at Karl, who in turn just scowled at him. The man paused before declaring, "I can give him to you."
Stephanie felt like flying out of her seat and punching the man right in his cocky, little face. John was trying to save them all, but this asshole wanted to get him killed! She couldn't stand it. She had to get out of the office before she attacked him.
"I have to go to the bathroom," Stephanie said calmly as she stood up. Hans peered at her and then at Karl. Karl grabbed her by the arm and took her outside. The hostages' murmurs hastily died as Karl and Stephanie passed them. The bathrooms were not too far from the waterfall and directly opposite of the elevators. Stephanie pushed open the white-marble door and stepped inside. She did not hear the door close and she turned to see Karl follow her in.
"You're honestly going to come into the girl's bathroom?" Stephanie lifted a brow at him.
Karl stared at her for a moment, clearly debating whether he should or not, and then left.
The room was dazzlingly with shine and cleanliness; not at all unexpected after seeing the other rooms. Stephanie searched around, looking for any vents to escape through, but there were none and unless she wanted to go down the pipes through the toilets or the sinks (which was obviously impossible) there was no way of getting out of there except the door which she entered. Defeated, Stephanie gazed at her reflection in the huge mirrors over the sinks. She was dirty, messy and tired-looking. She turned the porcelain taps and ran warm water over her arms and face, cleaning away the dirt, sweat and blood that had collected on her skin. Next, Stephanie pulled her hair out of her pathetic bun and let it run down her back, where it stopped just below her shoulders. Re-examining herself in the mirror, Stephanie was now satisfied with her improved appearance and reluctantly walked out of the bathroom.
Karl, who had been guarding the door, grasped her arm and tugged her back towards the office. Just as they were about to reach the waterfall, a gunshot roared through the air, inducing the hostages to scream and panic once more. Stephanie could see Hans step out of the office and hold up is black radio to the screams.
"Do you hear that?" Stephanie heard Hans furiously shout into the radio. "Talk to me! Where are my detonators? Where are they, or shall I shoot another one? Sooner or later, I might get to someone you do care about." Once Hans finished yelling he stormed back into his office and Karl and Stephanie followed him in.
Stephanie immediately closed her eyes, afraid of what she might find. Karl directed her back to her seat and she softly sat down on the easeful chair. The sickening, metallic smell of blood filled her nose and she struggled to keep her composure.
"Karl, take care of that moron," Hans ordered from behind his desk. A thump and a dragging noise conformed that Karl was dragging away a dead body. Once she only heard the breathing of Hans, she opened her eyes, but kept her focus on her hands that lay in her lap.
"Attention, police," Hans spoke into the radio. "Attention, police."
"This is Sergeant Al Powell-" came a brief reply.
"This is deputy chief Dwayne Robinson. Who is this?" the radio continued, although it was a different voice.
"This is Hans Gruber. I assume you realize the futility of direct action against me. We have no wish for further loss of life." His voice was strong and serious and easily commanded attention.
"Well, what is it you do wish for, Mr. Gruber?"
"I have comrades in arms around the world languishing in prison –"
Karl sauntered in and silently sat where the cocky and foolish man had sat moments before.
"The American State Department enjoys rattling its saber for its own ends. Now it can rattle it for me. The following people are to be released from their captors: in Northern Ireland the seven members of the New Provo Front, in Canada the five imprisoned members of Liberte du Quebec, in Sri Lanka the nine members of the Asian Dawn."
"Asian Dawn?" whispered Karl.
"I read about them in Time Magazine," Hans quickly said, covering the radio with his shoulder and then returning it to his mouth. "When these revolutionary brothers and sisters are free, the hostages in this building will be taken to the roof and will accompany us in helicopters to the Los Angeles International Airport where they will be given further instructions. You have two hours to comply."
"Do you think they'll even try to do it?" Karl asked.
"Who cares?" Hans chuckled lightly. He typed in a series of buttons on the radio. "Theo, are we on schedule?"
"One more to go. Then it's up to you, and you better be right because it looks like this last one is going to take a miracle," Theo replied as heavy machinery drowned out some of his voice.
"It's Christmas, Theo. It's the time of miracles, so be of good cheer and call me when you hit the last lock." Hans turned to Karl, his face showing great agitation. "Karl, hunt that little shit down and get those detonators."
"Fritz is checking on the explosives." Karl sat up and gripped a machine gun from beside the polished desk.
"I'll check the explosives. You just get the detonators." Hans stood up, snatched Stephanie by the wrist and hauled her after him.
"You know what? I am getting really sick of being dragged everywhere. I'm getting bruises from all this arm-grabbing business," Stephanie hissed at him.
"Well if you had been a good little girl then we wouldn't have to, now would we?" Hans' pace was fast and Stephanie had to almost jog to keep up with him. They took a lengthy staircase and after climbing up 10 floors, they made it to a dark and chilly room just below the roof. A flashlight that was left behind by Heinrich and the others was lying on the ground and Hans picked it up.
"Stay close to me and don't –"
"Do anything. Yeah, yeah." Stephanie waved off Hans' cliché words.
Hans flicked on the flashlight and surveyed the area. There were graffitied metal boxes everywhere, some of which had steam hissing from them. Hans noticed yellow wiring and followed it between two boxes with Stephanie right behind him. He looked up to see the wiring continue on top of the right box and he realized he had to climb up, but with a silver pistol in one hand and a flashlight in the other it would be extremely difficult. He glared at Stephanie warningly.
"Hey, do you really think I'm going to take on a full grown man?" Stephanie asked.
"Didn't stop you before," he replied with raised eyebrows.
She merely held his gaze and after a few minutes he gave up. With one last dangerous look, Hans placed his gun and flashlight on a ledge. Using both sides of the boxes as support, he lifted himself up and peered up at nothing but cut wires. He sighed to let out his frustrations and jumped back down and landed in a crouching position. But as soon as he reached solid ground he saw two very dirty, bare feet. He slowly and cautiously looked up to see a man holding a machine gun and Stephanie standing silently beside him.
"Hi there. How you doing?" John smiled. Hans' mouth flew open and started moving with unspoken words. He backed away slowly.
"Please, God. No, you're one of them, aren't you?" Hans began to hysterically sputter with a realistic American accent. "You're one of them! Don't kill me!"
Stephanie's face contorted with confusion.
"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you," John said, buying into Hans' wretched act.
Stephanie opened her mouth to speak, but Hans threw her a dark look that made her shut her mouth at once. She had no idea why he had this much control over her, even with John being the one holding the gun.
"What the fuck are you two doing up here?" John asked, looking around to make sure they were the only ones in this room. "What were you looking for?"
"We managed to get out of there. We were just trying to get up on the roof and signal for help." Hans made his way back in between the two boxes, no doubt trying to get his pistol. "Why don't you come over here? I'll show you."
"Hold it, hold it. Forget the roof. They got people all over it. You want to stay alive, stay with me." John said firmly, making Hans stop. "Come on."
Stephanie cast a pleading look at Hans and he unwillingly followed them back into the building.
"Thank God, you're alive." Stephanie let out a weary laugh.
John leaned against a wall and beamed at her.
"Yeah, you too."
Hans took the wall opposite from them and watched them furtively.
Stephanie looked up and down at John. He was three times dirtier and bloodier than when she had met him in the elevator shaft.
"You smoke?" John asked Hans, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.
"Yeah," Hans chuckled with fraud giddiness. John pulled out one for himself and then handed the pack to Hans, who pulled one out as well. John took out a silver, metallic lighter and lit his and Hans' cigarettes. Stephanie stood back to keep away from the disgusting fumes.
"You don't work for Nakatomi. And if you're not one of them –" Hans bounced on the balls of his feet to give him a less sinister look.
"I'm a cop from New York," replied John, puffing on his cancer stick.
Stephanie closed her eyes in remorse. It was very stupid of him to reveal that in front of Hans. Of course, Hans heard and his face grew a bit of its old seriousness back.
"New York?"
"Yeah. Got invited to the Christmas party by mistake. Who knew?" John noticed Hans was now looking down at his naked toes and he began to laugh. "It's better than getting caught with your pants down, huh?"
Both men continued to laugh while Stephanie watched them uncomfortably.
"I'm John McClane," John spoke after he calmed down.
Stupid move number two, Stephanie thought, I hope he knows what he's doing.
Hans' fake smile turned into a thin line and his eyes grew wide. Here in front of him was the man causing him so much trouble.
"You're, uh…" John waited for Hans to give his name.
"Clay. Bill Clay." His smile returned, but it carried a more devilish flair.
"Know how to use a handgun, Bill?"
"I spent a weekend at a combat ranch. You know, the guns that shoot red paint? Probably seems kind of stupid to you," Hans lied.
"Nope. Time for the real thing, Bill," John said as he reloaded a pistol and handed it handle-first to Hans.
Stephanie violently shook her head in warning, but John either didn't see or ignored her. Hans gradually took the gun from John's hands and stared at it.
"Come on," John said as he passed Stephanie and Hans on his way towards the stairs. Hans stomped his cigarette out and took out the radio from his pocket. As he pointed his pistol to the back of John's head, he spoke in German into the bulky radio. Stephanie whimpered and stepped back. This was it. John had finally met his end.
"Put the gun down and give me my detonators," Hans ordered in his normal voice as John turned around.
"Well, well, well. Hans." John took one last puff on his cigarette and threw it to the ground.
"Put it down now," Hans repeated.
"That's pretty tricky with that accent. You ought to be on fucking TV with that accent." John stepped forward confidently. "What do you want with the detonators, Hans? I already used all the explosives, or did I?"
"I'm going to count to three –"
"Yeah. Like you did with Takagi?" John derided. Hans lost his patience and pulled hard on the trigger, but no gunshot came, just a tiny, feeble click.
"Oops," John mocked. "No bullets. What do you think – I'm fucking stupid Hans?"
Stephanie almost laughed in relief, but the elevator next to them let out a ding.
"You were saying?" Hans smirked.
Karl stepped out of the elevator, but John already began to fire at him with his machine gun. Karl darted behind a wall to block the bullets and John ran, yelling. Stephanie made a start to run after him, but Hans yanked her back.
"Stay back here if you don't want to get shot," he hissed and ran off after John, leaving her alone. Stephanie watched him disappear along with Fritz and Karl. He was right, but she couldn't just stand there. John was risking his life to save her and Stephanie didn't want to let him down. But her legs froze as she heard the roaring battle of machineguns and she dropped to the ground helplessly and covered her ears. She didn't know how many minutes passed before there was silence and a light tap on her shoulder. Her chest fluttered with joy and she looked up with delight, but it was not John that stood over her. It was Hans. Tears tore at her eyes and she hastily wiped them away.
"Did you kill him?" she whispered. Hans did not reply, he only stared at her and offered her his free hand. She noticed he had John's black bag in his other hand. Stephanie choked and new tears came streaming down her cheeks. She took Hans' hand, but did not dare look at him, and let him guide her to the elevator where Karl already stood.