A/N: Thanks for your continued reviews and critiques!
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Disclaimer: I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. The riddle came from leisureideas dot com/riddles.htm.
Title: The Riddle
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Inside the bank
"NO!" Jennifer screamed, as she heard two gun shots ring out. "No!" she repeated, sobbing. "I can't believe you did that…" she moaned, burying her head in her hands, as her body shook with the force of her sobs. "Aaron… Aaron, I'm so sorry… it's all my fault… if I hadn't decided that I wanted to buy a house, we wouldn't have been in the bank today… God, Aaron…" she mumbled, as she started to cry even harder.
"You sick bastards…" Sara choked out, her vision blurring as hot tears stung her eyes. Stumbling toward the other hostages, she threw herself down next to Timothy, pulling him into her lap. "You're all sick…" she repeated, as she wrapped her arms tightly around him, almost suffocating him.
"Sara…?" Timothy whispered, his face deathly pale. "If I promise to be a good boy, will they stop…?" he quietly asked. "'Cause… I'll be a good boy if they stop scaring everyone…" he wailed, turning around to bury his head against Sara's shoulder. "Tell them, okay, Sara? Please…?" he added.
"Shh, Timmy…" Sara quietly replied, swallowing. "Shh…"
"How'd you all like that…?" Colonel Mustard asked, strolling back into the bank's lobby. "I certainly enjoyed it… as I'm sure you all did. Sara Sidle, get over here," he then said, once again pointing his gun at her. "You have a phone call to make…"
"No…" Sara mumbled. "I'm done with your sick and twisted games."
"Oh, yeah?" Mustard asked, raising an eyebrow. "Okay," he shrugged, quickly walking over toward Timothy, and ripping him out of her arms.
"Okay, okay!" Sara shouted, instantly jumping up, and frowning. "Just leave him alone!" she hissed, holding her hand out for the phone.
"As you wish," Colonel Mustard replied, a huge grin on his face.
"And what am I saying this time…?" she mumbled.
"Just…be yourself!" he chuckled.
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Outside the bank, in the command post
Brass swallowed, trying to process what he had just heard. "I can't believe they… I can't believe they did that…" he quietly told Sofia, balling one of his hands up into a fist, and staring at the ceiling. "Jesus… these guys are serious…"
"Yes… it would appear that they are…" Sofia replied, her face contorted into a look of shock.
All of a sudden, Jim's cell phone went off, causing every officer in the command post to freeze.
"It's from Sara's phone," Brass sighed, glancing down at the caller ID. "Who wants it…?"
"Give it to me…" Moss ordered.
Nodding, Jim handed his phone over to Moss, who opened it up, and put it on speaker. "Hello…?" he tentatively asked. Complete silence. "Hello…?" he repeated.
"It's…me…" Sara's shaky voice filled the room. "God damn it, they really did it…" she whispered, her voice shaking, right along with her entire body. "Jim? They really did it… we heard the shots… they did it!" she repeated over and over again, her panic increasing with each word. "DO SOMETHING!" she yelled into the phone, trying to fight back her tears. "Please… just do something… before it's too late…" she whispered, knowing that they were already doing everything in their power to help, and that her phone call was probably not making anything any easier for anyone in the command post. But Sara was officially terrified, and in the process of having a major anxiety attack. "There's so many people in here… we don't want to die, Jim," she again tried to swallow her panic, on the verge of losing control. "Please don't let them kill us…"
Jim swallowed, listening to Sara speak. Although she was certainly emotional by nature, he could tell how scared she truly was. "Sara… we're… trying our best…" he quietly told her. "Just… hang in there…"
"Hang in there?" Sara questioned him, sarcasm dripping off of every word. "You want us to hang in there?" she repeated, a bit more loudly. "Jim, they've already killed four people! They're not going to stop, until we're all dead!"
Suddenly, the voice on the other end of the phone changed. "Thirty minutes, boys," Colonel Mustard informed them. "And if you don't plan on having the money for us, we'll take some dinner… along with two more body bags," he trailed off, before the line went dead.
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Inside the bank
"Good job, Sara," Colonel Mustard approvingly told her. "That was the perfect blend of absolute terror and tears. I couldn't have scripted it any better for you, myself…"
Sara just glared at him, before looking down at the ground. "You won't get away with this…" she whispered. "Even if you kill all of us, you won't get away with it. My friends will process this scene after you're gone, and they'll nail your asses to the wall…" she informed off, a look of fierce determination once again gracing her features.
"Is that a fact?" Mr. Green asked her, waving his gun in her face. "Well, we're wearing gloves and masks, so they won't be able to trace anything that we're doing."
"Don't be so sure…" Sara mumbled. "They're smart. A helluva lot smarter than all of you."
Colonel Mustard just laughed. "Would you like to play a game with me, Sara?" he asked her. "I like you, so… I'm going to give you this opportunity. If you're interested, of course," he amended.
Sara just continued to glare at the man, refusing to speak.
"It's easy," he told her. "You think that you and your friends are so smart… if you can answer a riddle correctly… I will let you make one five minute phone call to a friend."
Sara bit her lip, frowning. "And if I get it wrong?"
"Then you go back and sit along the wall… you still get to live for at least another four hours," he reminded her.
"What's the riddle…?" Sara hesitantly asked, her heart starting to beat faster.
Colonel Mustard grinned, rubbing his hands together. "It's a long one, so listen closely. 'A sheik announced that a race would decide which of his two sons would inherit all his wealth. The sons were to ride their camels to a certain distant city. The son whose camel reached the city last would be given all of the sheik's wealth. The two sons set out on the journey. After several days of aimless wandering, they met, and agreed to seek the advice of a wiseman. After listening to the wiseman's advice, the two sons rode the camels as quickly as possible to the designated city. What was it that the wiseman told the two sons? They did not agree to split the wealth, and their father's decree would be followed.'"
Sara frowned, staring at the ground. "Damn it…" she mumbled. Shit! I don't know the answer! What could he have possibly said to them? she asked herself, staring at the ceiling and trying to think.
"Can I… help her…?" Jennifer whispered, picking her head up from her hands. "Can I… tell her the answer…?"
"Sure," Colonel Mustard told her. "I don't really care, one way or the other…"
"Sara," Jennifer whispered, "The wiseman told them to switch camels… and ride as quickly as possible," she told her, swallowing.
Sara raised an eyebrow. Hmm… interesting. "So… can I make my phone call now…?" she asked, once again frowning, and refusing to make eye contact with any of the bank robbers.
In answer, Colonel Mustard just tossed her her cell phone. "Who are you going to call…?" he curiously asked.
"A friend," Sara mumbled, slightly relieved.
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CBS News, anchor desk
Renee stared at the television monitor in front of her, frowning. "As of right now, we still have no idea what these bank robbers are actually looking for," she intoned. "The police have informed us that the criminals have made some demands, although they refuse to tell us what those demands actually are. We can only assume, however, that the police are doing everything in their power to—" she started to say, stopping in mid-sentence. Pushing her finger against her ear, Renee listened to someone off camera, as her face suddenly drained of all color. "Folks, I regret to inform you that we have shots fired in the bank…" she trailed off. "I repeat, shots have been fired in the bank…"
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In the lab
Greg slowly stood up from the table, walking over to the coffee maker. Staring at the sludge that they were all drinking, he frowned, before digging into his special stash. Throwing it into the coffee maker, he sighed, waiting for it to percolate through the machine.
Warrick raised an eyebrow, staring at Greg, surprised that he was making the good stuff. He knew that the younger man was worried about Sara… hell, they all were. This just all still seemed so…surreal. And bank robberies… never ended well.
With a frown, Nick ran a shaky hand through his hair. "We have to… do something…" he announced.
"There's nothing that we can do, Nick…" Catherine pointed out, her hands still tightly wrapped around her mug of cold coffee.
"Except… sit here and worry about things…" Greg mumbled, waiting for the coffee to finish.
"There has to be something that we can do, Gris," Warrick spoke up, looking over at his supervisor.
"Every single law enforcement agent has officers at the bank," Grissom told them all with a sigh, looking around the table at his team. "They're… trying their best…" What he actually wanted to say was that the officers would find a way to get everyone out of the bank, but…he couldn't say it. He didn't know if that was going to happen.
"What's wrong with Renee?" Catherine suddenly asked the group, frowning, as the television anchorwoman's entire appearance just… changed.
Turning around to glance at the screen, Greg shrugged.
Renee's quiet voice once again filled the empty break room, delivering the words that made each and every CSI shudder. "Folks, I regret to inform you that we have shots fired in the bank…" she trailed off. "I repeat, shots have been fired in the bank…"
"Shit!" Warrick yelled, punching the able. Moments later, when his cell phone trilled, Warick frowned. Who's calling? We're all here…and Tina is gone. With a sigh, he glanced at the caller ID, his eyes bulging. "It's coming from Sara's phone!" he shouted, jumping up.
"What…?" Nick asked, squinting. "That's… impossible…"
"It's not impossible," Grissom spoke up. "It's just highly improbable."
Without hesitation, Warrick answered his phone. "Sara…?"
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In the bank
"…Warrick?" Sara whispered, trying to swallow her fear.
"Time's a tickin', Sara," Colonel Mustard pointed out with a grin. "Four minutes and forty-five seconds remaining…"
Sara tightly closed her eyes, holding back her tears. "Warrick…I'm not ready to die..." So listen up to what I'm about to say, and figure this out...before it's too late.
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TO BE CONTINUED