Edited: 05/03/2022
Chapter 1: Wrong place, wrong time
Despite everything my death wasn't remarkable.
I had escaped from captivity with the scars to prove it, and I returned to civilian life. For three years I lived my life, no one's life in my hands but my own. No one's life under my command but my own.
I had gone to the bank to talk about pulling out off one of my investments before the company tanked. I knew the signs, and I didn't want to risk losing so much money when I could simple stop investing and leave with what I have. I was waiting for one of the offices to become available when they came in.
Everyone hit the deck as the bullets were fired and the shouting started. The security guard was shot, but I could see that he was still breathing.
While the bank robbers were distracted trying to locate the manager, and removing every one of their cell phones and wallets, I carefully made my way over to the guard and tore open his shirt to assess the injury. The bullet had lodged itself in the man's stomach and he was bleeding heavily, but it didn't seem to have hit anything truly important – like his heart or lung or a main artery.
I used one of my hair pins – disinfected with a lighter I kept on my person despite not being a smoker. The guard cried out in pain when I reached into him to pinch a major blood vessel together and then hold it together with the pin.
"What do you think you are doing?" one of the gun men demanded, the guards cry of pain having captured his attention.
"Saving his life." I snapped back, barely sparing the man a glance in order to apply pressure to the wound with one hand while I tore the man's shirt into bandages with the other. If the gun man was going to stop me, he would have done so instead of demanding answers. Preventing the major vessel from bleeding out was important, but so was stopping the open wound from bleeding. But this was only a temporary measure, cutting off the blood vessel could cause long term damage to limbs and organs depending on where it's connected to. This man needed major surgery, and soon.
"You were told to keep quiet and not to move." The gun man waved his weapon threateningly.
"And if I did that you would be an accessory to murder instead of just an armed robber. Whether you shot the gun or not doesn't matter. Do you hear that?" I brought the man's attention to the sirens. "That's the police locking down the street around this building. The FBI will be here in under three minutes because you stupidly robbed a bank within five miles of their headquarters. Whatever escape route you had planned is now out of the window. So, I can continue saving this mans' life, or you can shoot me and be a murderer."
The man swallowed heavily before spinning around to speak into the radio he carried. Contacting the man in charge and letting him know that it had gone to hell. With him distracted I turned back to the guard who was watching me, his eyes slightly clearer than they were before. I didn't say anything at first, concentrating on replacing my hand with a swot of fabric and then tying it in place.
"What's your name?" I asked him quietly.
"Charles." He grunted, trying to keep his voice down and not cry out in pain.
"Anything I need to know?" I helped shift him so he was leaning back against his station, keeping my eyes on the six men that had returned to join the one they had left to keep the hostages under control. They were each carrying a large sports bag – presumable full of cash, and the manager was allowed to join the rest of the bank employees.
"Are you a cop?" he asked.
"Ex-military."
"Our security cameras have alarms attached to them, if they go down an alarm sounds so they've probably kept those active."
"Entry and exit points?" I asked. "I've counted the fire exit to the rear of the manager's office, the front entrance, and the roof."
"That's it." the guard agreed. "Just the three."
"Is there a basement?"
"Yeah, that's where the vault and lock boxes are. But there isn't an entrance down there."
"Yes, but old buildings like these were built over tunnel lines. If they have the bank schematics and building permits, they are going to know that. And who robes a bank with a full back pack?" I questioned rhetorically as three of the men disappeared back down into the vaults. They were never planning on getting out before the cops arrived, which is why they didn't get the employees out into the main area immediately – they didn't care if someone hit the alarm.
"You," the one in charge said, pointing his gun at me. "You a doctor?"
"I'm medically trained. Never joined the hospital." I answered evasively. Them knowing that I was once a solider would do me no favours. It would be the same as them having a cop in the bank.
"Good, get up." He motioned with his gun, and I complied making sure to keep my hands in sight.
With impeccable timing, it was then that the phone at one of the desks rang.
"Answer it," he ordered me. I could feel the weight of the other hostage's gaze on me as I moved across the bank, making sure not to make any sudden movements towards any of the bank robbers, and picked up the phone.
"Hello."
"This is Agent Hotchner with the BAU. Am I talking to one of the robbers?"
"No, I'm a hostage. Jane Faulton." I told him, my eyes flicking to one of the cameras. He knew that already; they would have a live feed but he obviously didn't want the robbers reminded of that. I turned, so I was looking at the guy holding me at gun point, which had the dual effect of making it so no one could see my back but it was visible to the camera. I casually put my hand behind me and started signing out information for the cops. Hopefully they would have someone there who could translate or get hold of someone who could.
"Can you pass the phone to one of the hostage takers?" Hotchner requested.
"He wants to talk to you." I offered the man the phone.
In response he turned the safety off and moved the gun from my chest to my head. "Who is it?"
"He says his name is Agent Hotchner, BAU."
"BAU, what the hell is the BAU?" one of the other robbers questioned angrily.
"They're part of the FBI, it stands for Behavioural Analysis Unit." I explained, never taking my eyes of the leader.
"Jane, what's happening?" Hotchner questioned.
"Tell him he can speak with me through you." The robber decided.
"He won't speak to you directly. He said he'll talk to you through me." I informed the agent, my fingers still signing away.
"What can I call him?" Hotchner questioned after a pause.
"He wants to know how to address you." I related the question back to the man.
"We're wearing masks for a reason sweetheart." One of the other men scoffed, while the main one took a threatening step forward.
"He's not asking for your name. He can't keep calling you robber 1, robber 2 and so forth."
"Tell him he can address me as Snake." The head one silenced the other men with a raised hand.
"Snake. He says you can call him Snake."
"Alright, is anyone hurt? We have reports of shots fired."
Knowing better than to just answer the question, I repeated it to Snake.
"Tell him nothing." Snake ordered.
"You're in a hostage situation, if you don't want SWAT kicking down the door, it's easier to just compromise. You give them something, they give you something." I cautioned the man. I got pistol whipped for that.
"Don't question me." he hissed, positively furious that I had dared say anything.
I eyed him cautiously as I placed the phone so that Hotchner could hear me. "I'm not allowed to say."
"That's fine, we've got eyes in the bank and an interpreter, soldier." Hotchner reported calmly, and I signed 'thanks' back. "You're welcome. Now, don't do anything to antagonise Snake. Ask him what he wants."
I was grateful that Snake clearly wasn't smart enough to try and listen to what Hotchner was saying to make sure a coded message wasn't past.
"They want to know what you want, your demands."
"An unmarked, untracked vehicle that can fit eight people or two five seaters. And a privet jet, with a civilian pilot. No one following us, no one tracking us. We land in some foreign country, and let the pilot go alive." Snake decided, and I repeated back to Hotchner word for word since they couldn't read the man's lips due to the angle and the security taps don't have audio.
"That's going to take time. A civilian pilot isn't easy to get a hold of, especially one willing to fly a plane with armed men." Hotchner cautioned.
"You have three hours before I start shooting people." Snake responded to that warning angrily, causing several people to whimper in fear.
"I'll see what I can do." Hotchner promised before I was ordered to hang up the phone.
"Hands behind your head." Snake ordered me. I slowly did as I was asked, making my body posture as non-threatening and as projected as possible. "I don't remember taking your phone."
"My bag is on the chair five feet behind you to the left. My phone is in there." I informed him calmly.
"You," he pointed to one of the others, "bring it to me."
"Yes sir."
Once Snake had been given the satchel bag, he opened it and quickly found my phone. Its battery was removed and the casing joined the others. He then pulled out my purse.
"Let's, see. Driver's license. DNR card. Insurance's card. But no other forms of identification. Where do you work?"
"I'm a teacher for a privet company. My ID badge is in the front pocket of the satchel. It's on a land yard."
Snake retrieved said card with a raised eyebrow. "Certified to teach English, French, German, Sanscript and Arabic. What's a woman like you doing knowing Arabic?"
"I'm learned."
"And how many people these days need to know Arabic?"
"Reporters, interpreters, some government agents, and soldiers. It also helps in teaching English if you know the language of the person learning." I answered calmly, unfazed by the question. I was very much aware that white woman with my features were not the sort of people that are pictured as knowing or learning Arabic – hell I didn't even have a tan to indicate I'd been in the east.
"And how did you know what BAU stood for?" he asked, throwing my bag to the side.
"My building is next to FBI headquarters. The staff gossip. I've also been called in as an interpreter for the FBI in the past."
"You see, I don't believe you." He walked forward, and ran his gun down along the side of my face. I held still; I knew intimidation tactics when I was faced with them. "I know civilians, and I know how they stand. And you aren't standing like a civilian. You're standing like a police officer or a solider. So, which are you?"
"If I was a Police Officer, I would have an ID on me, whether I was on duty or not."
"So, are you a solider?"
"Retired. Medical discharge. I was intelligence. Not combat." I lied. My secondary mission was always intelligence because I was multi-lingual and aware of the culture, but I was a combat specialised.
"So how did you know how to save the guard?"
"We all had basic training because we were going into an active war zone. Someone like me wasn't useful as a gun, so I learnt how to save my guards." I explained. We did have an actual doctor attached to my unit whenever we left the base, but in a war zone more than one person gets hurt so it made sense to also have knowledge on how to help them.
"Charles over there probably only has a few hours left before my temporary measure fails. If he's going to live, he needs surgery."
"I shot him, why do you think I would care if he lives or dies?" Snake questioned, tilting his head in a way that made it seem like he was smiling sadistically at me.
"Because you need to prove to the FBI that you can be reasonable. That you can be reasoned with." I explained, consciously keeping my breathing under control as the man stepped closer his gun still pointed at my head but his other hand wondering down across my chest and grasping my hip too pull my body against his. "You've asked for a plane, a pilot and a vehicle. You need to give the police something in return."
The phone rang.
"Pick it up." The man whispered in my ear, not moving away from me.
"Hello Agent Hotchner." I greeted.
"Jane, is everything okay?" he questioned, and I could hear the concern in his voice. Obviously, he was watching on the CCTV and could see the position I was in.
"Yeah, I'm okay." I reassured him. "What do you need?"
"We can get a car here easily. But a plane with pilot is harder. We're going to need something to prove that they're willing to let the pilot go alive." Hotchner explained.
"They can get you a car. But if you want a plane, you're going to have to give a show of good faith." I told Snake.
"Tell him I'll let the women and children go and the guard." Snake stepped back, turning to face the rest of the hostages.
"He says he's going to let the women and the guard go." I had already given a report of the guard's condition so they should be able to treat him properly.
"Alright, I'll see what I can do about the plane."
I hung up the phone and watched as the women and children left, supporting the guard between them. Since I still had a gun pointed at me, I figured I wasn't included in that mix. Once they were all gone Snake turned to the rest of the people (consisting of an elderly couple, what looks like a teenager, four bank employees and nine men) and ordered them up and into a barrier around the windows and doors. It seemed that he no longer had faith in the Feds to not try and breech the perimeter.
"On your knees, hands on your head. Cross your ankles." Snake ordered me, and I followed his instruction. "Spike, keep an eye on her. The rest of you, watch them." Snake headed down to the basement, bringing the remaining two bags of the money with him.
Then it was a waiting game, the robbers who had been left with them were talking quietly amongst themselves, occasionally snapping at someone who had turned to look at them, or who dared to talk, while the other hostages stood in their designated places - most of them trembling with fright.
This balance was broken by Snake and the two other men appearing from the basement, and he was furious.
"Boss?" one of them questioned, but was ignored as Snake headed directly for the bank manager. He grabbed the man by the hair and pulled him backwards.
"No..no…no." the man pleaded as he was dragged down into the basement. The phone started ringing, but one of the men who had come back up pointed his gun at me so I remained in my position, kneeling on the floor. They all waited in tense silence, hoping that they wouldn't hear a gun shot. After a minute the phone fell silent. After five, the bank manager was returned, mostly unharmed although I did spot a mark on his cheek – likely from where he had been struck.
"You, get up. Phone the Feds back." Snake snapped at me.
I did as I was asked, stretching my legs a bit to get some blood flowing.
"Is everything okay in there, you didn't pick up the last time I phoned?" Hotchner questioned.
"Everything's just fine. Where's that plane?" Snake answered once I had repeated Hotchner's words.
"We've secured the plane. And the pickup car is ready." Hotchner informed them.
"I want the car empty, I'll be sending one of my men out to check, and if he doesn't return or finds anything, I'll kill one of the hostages. Put the car down the side of the building." Snake threatened.
It took fifteen minutes for the man to leave, check the car and come back. Giving a nod to Snake just as the phone rang.
"I take it everything is in order?" Hotchner queried.
"Yes, where's the plane located?"
"Privet Air Strip, off Philadelphia Avenue." Hotchner answered.
"He doesn't want to see any cops, or the consequences will be on your heads." I repeated the threat I was given and hung up the phone.
Snake grabbed me roughly by the arm and pulled me against his side. "You lot, on your knees."
The hostages did as they were ordered as the robbers all left the bank, Snake at the front using me as a human shield encase the cops had decided to take them out as they left the building. Just before I was shoved into the back seat of the van I looked over to the line of police, locking eyes with a very strict faced man.
I was sat in the middle of the car, and once they were mobile all the men took of their masks. Well, that wasn't a good sign for my survival.
"What happened to the plan?" one of the ones who had remained in the lobby questioned.
"Bank Manager renovated. Had steal reinforced walls and a secret vault added. I put in enough force to take out the wall and let us into the tunnels and the blast would kill us, even if we hid in one of the other vaults." Snake answered. He was in the passenger seat, sat at such an angel that he still had a gun on me. It seemed he didn't trust his henchmen to actually shoot me if necessary because they also had guns on me.
"They must have not updated the blue prints at the council." One of the men who was at the back said with an annoyed frown.
"Well if he did it in the last six months the paperwork is probably still being processed before being filed." Another of the henchmen pointed out in amusement. "That's how the government works."
"Where are we taking the plane too?" the driver questioned.
"Asia." Snake answered. "We'll just have to get a commercial flight back to America afterwards since they don't have our ID."
"And the girl?"
"She is leverage until we get on the plane. At which point, she's disposable."
The rest of the journey to the airport was spent in silence. When they arrived, there was only one aeroplane on the runway and it was already prepared for take-off.
"Wait," Snake ordered his men before they could get out of the vehicle. He was looking around with suspicious eyes. After a moment he climbed into the back and grabbed the backpack that had their equipment in.
He pulled out some duck tap. "Hold her." he ordered the two men who had been sat on either side of me. He quickly bound my forearms together before placing a knife into my hands, positioning it so the blade was resting against my stomach. "Make sure her arms don't move." He warned his henchmen before taping the knife to my hands. Finally, he looped the tape around my upper arms and torso twice to keep my arms mostly fixed. However, there was enough leeway for the knife to be driven into my stomach, and it was positioned with an upward trajectory.
"Do you think there are cops out there?" the man who was at the wheel questioned, watching his boss work.
"I can almost guarantee it since there is a reduced number of hostages in an open area." Snake answered. "They have a tactical advantage here, that's why I brought her with us."
From the bag he grabbed some wire and opened the van door. He grabbed my arm and forced me out of the van, my back to them. He pulled the wire tightly around my neck, and I tensed my neck muscles to get me more breathing room.
"Not too tight, I hope." He whispered in my ear as he heard my breath hitch as the wire cut into my skin. I felt him tie it off, and I breathed as shallowly as I could in order to get the oxygen my body needed without either the knife or the wire cutting any deeper into my skin.
"Let's move." He ordered his men who jumped out of the van after him, their guns up and ready as they progressed to the plane.
At a signal I hadn't seen a group of SUVs and police cars drove into the air strip.
"Drop your weapons." A man's voice shouted from the head SUV as the law enforcement surrounded the group of robbers. Snake moved to stand directly behind me, one hand on my shoulder and the other holding a gun to my leg.
"If you don't want the women to die, step aside." Snake shouted to them.
"I went to war for this country, I'm not afraid to die to stop you." I spoke loud enough for the law enforcement officers to hear as I locked eyes with the stern looking man from before, I recognised his voice as the one who I had been speaking too over the phone.
As punishment Snake tightened the wire around my neck to the point that I couldn't stop the forceful chocked indrawn breath that I let out.
"If you won't put the gun down, then at least remove the wire from around the women's neck." Another man stepped forward. He was older with short cropped hair, wearing a red shirt underneath his bullet proof vest. "You've got a knife and a gun trained on her; you don't need to suffocate her as well."
"Ah, but the wire is motivation. The longer you stand in our way, the tighter I make the wire, how many turns do you think before she suffocates. Look, her lips are already tinged slightly from the lack of air."
I stopped focusing on the discussion going on between the FBI agent and Snake, instead I looked to Hotchner. Once I was sure his attention was on me, I started blinking in Morse Code.
"Line of sight?"
And he responded, using his own blinks. "All but Snake. One shot take downs."
"Then warn your men, count of ten."
"What are you planning?" His blinks this time came across as distinctly urgent.
"Warn your men," I repeated. Hotchner lifted his hand to his ear and whispered something and I noticed three of the SWAT members on each side release their safeties.
"10…" I began the count for Hotchner, and he repeated the numbers for his men. The other man was still talking, keeping the attention on him.
At 'three' I took as deep a breath as I could. On 'two' I tensed my arms and thrust my elbows backwards sharply. This had three consequences: the tap around my upper arms was broken, I elbowed Snake in the gut and the knife plunged into my stomach. At 'one' six gunshots rang out, and I span sharply kicking my leg up. Snake went down from the blow and I stumbled back towards the cops, the knife in my stomach shifting as I was unable to hold it steady because of the sudden movement. Three men converged on Snake and two to each of the others.
I stumbled, falling to my knees and coughing up blood. Suddenly Hotchner was in front of me and he cut the wire which had cut shallowly into my throat but hadn't really been a priority all things considered. I had acted too quickly for Snake to tighten the wire and he had automatically released his grip from the surprising impact and pain. I tried taking in a deep breath now that I could but ended up coughing up more blood.
"Easy Jane," he carefully guided me so that I was lying on my back, his knees supporting my head. "You're going to be okay, the ambulance is only a minute away."
"Don't lie… I'm… not going… to… survive this." I told him with a grim smile. I had accepted that when I made my decision. "I… made… my choice."
"Hotch, this is the classic Seppuku stab wound, and with the force she would have needed to apply to break the tape and the movement from her spin, she's got less than a minute left." A young man with hair that fell round his chin said nervously.
"The Civilians from the bank owe you their lives." a black man commented, coming to kneel at my other side.
"The guard… Charles?"
"Is going to make a full recovery." The man who had taken over the talking earlier reassured me.
"Good," I whispered before I was forced to cough up even more blood. I could feel my body going cold and my heart beat slowing, but I didn't regret my actions that day. "What… your names?" I requested, forcing my eyes open.
"I'm Derrick Morgan, this is Spenser Reid, Jason Gideon, Jennifer Jeuro, and you already know Aron Hotchner." The black man introduced them all.
"Thank you," I told them before my body started convulsing as the next couching fit hit me. Hotchner and Morgan had to hold me still so that the knife wouldn't move any more than it already had.
I didn't open my eyes again since it wasn't fair for the agents who had tried so hard, to see the light leave my eyes. There was enough blood that I imagine they would have trouble compartmentalising my lose. They were off good heart and I was a victim – they probably remembered all the victims they lost over the years.
Finally, my body stopped convulsing and my heart spluttered to a stop and I drifted off.
What felt like moments later, I was opening my eyes to a red sky.