A/N: Wow, I am still excited by the response this has been getting! I think I'm going to make a list of all the names you've been calling Jackson throughout this fic and call him all those names next time I watch the film. I can see it now: "Jerk! Bastard! Brute!" Heehee. Thanks for all of your reviews.
Oh, and seghen, to answer your question, I decided to have Lisa eat at five because a.) it goes along with the spontaneity of an actual hectic job... some jobs you just can't eat until later; and b.) because I didn't have the heart to have Lisa go from noon until 8 a.m the next day without food! Yikes!
This goes along with the "teen" rating... so... bewarned. Mature-ish. I'll shut up now.
Chapter Four
Lisa was forced to stay quiet. She wanted to scream and yell and throw herself out of the car, to run to the nearest police station. But there was nothing that could be done. Jackson continued to talk at her, but as her final act of rebellion, she chose to ignore every word he said.
She thought about everything. She thought about being five years old and very frightened. Lisa used to be afraid of thunderstorms; every time the sky rumbled her heart rumbled inside of her too. One night in particular stood out in her memory. It had been before the divorce, and both of her parents were sitting downstairs, sharing a glass of wine.
She'd tried to be brave. She'd tried to ride out the storm and clutch her teddy bear and throw the covers over her head whenever she saw a flash of lightning. But the fear had gotten to be too much for her to handle, so she'd run downstairs.
"What are you doing up, sweets?" her mother asked, smiling. "Come here." She opened her arm and let Lisa curl up next to her. Some of the red wine in her glass splashed around a little, and Lisa had been afraid that the wine would spill all over the navy blue couch.
Her dad grinned a little, too. "You know, there's nothing to be afraid of. It's just noise."
"And lightning," Lisa had added firmly. "I can see it outside my window."
"But it's outside, Lisa. It can't hurt you."
Her mother added gently, "You know, it's all right to be scared sometimes. Even adults get scared. I'll let you stay through the loudest part of the storm, and then you have to go upstairs and get some rest, okay?" Her mother bent down and kissed the top of her head.
Lisa felt relaxed, sitting next to her mother, cradled in her arms. She slept there, absolutely convinced that as long as her mother loved her and was holding her, nothing could hurt her.
But then Lisa snapped out of the memory. In front of her was the hard leather seat and Jackson. It was reality.
He slammed the breaks on outside of the hotel. It was just about opening time. On a normal day Lisa would go about turning the lights on, checking to see if anyone had left complaints in the night, and making sure the continental breakfast was served precisely from 7:30-9:00. But today wasn't a normal day, and she waited for his instruction.
"I have everything tapped, Leese. Don't even try to make a phone call because I'll hear everything you say. I'll be down in the basement and you'll go about business as usual. Wait until I let you out." The click meant that the car was unlocked. She ignored him and got out by herself.
"Leese, what did I tell you?" he was turning dangerous again.
"Look, Jack," she said as sweetly as she could, "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. There's nowhere I can go, anyway. Chances are, even if I could run to my car you'd shoot me down. I'm going in by myself."
She got to the machine to type in the password to get in and heard the click before she felt the cold metal against her neck. "Leese, I'm warning you, let's not cop an attitude, all right?"
Her whole body became tense as she struggled to remember the password. She'd typed it in just about every day of her life, and now her mind had gone blank.
"You'd better hurry," he said darkly.
She typed in the first combination she could remember, hoping it was this password and not the one to her ATM account or something. The door clicked and she knew she'd gotten it right. Thank God. Jackson had pulled the gun away from her neck.
Lisa sighed in frustration as Jackson went down the stairs and she went about opening the Lux Atlantic for the day. She felt physically ill; pretty soon hundreds of employees and customers would be captives, too. It was unfair and wrong.
"Thank God you're here, Miss Reisert!" said Tom Shill, one of the maintenance men. "We just found out the security camera downstairs is busted. Tried to fix it last night, but apparently there's some red tape we've had to get through. You'll need to call Ed Wilkins who owns the Lux Atlantic chain--"
One glimmer of hope fluttered inside of her-- if the security camera in the basement was busted, then Jackson couldn't see what was going on. He might be able to hear everything, but not see it. Lisa cut Tom off before Jackson could put two and two together as well. "Yeah, I'll call them later," she said with a grin.
"Did you have a nice night last night?" Tom asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
No, it was the worst night of my life. Thanks for bringing it up. "Yeah," she lied weakly. "You?"
"Yeah, I guess. Kids kept me up late last night. I swear, Monica will sleep through anything. She promised me we could take turns taking care of the kids, but she won't wake up for anything." Tom chuckled. Lisa knew he complained about his family, but he loved them very much and most of the time wouldn't stop bragging about them. She felt bad; he wouldn't see them again for a very long time.
And then Lisa had an idea. She couldn't get to every one of the employees and customers, but-- she began to scribble something down on a piece of paper.
Get out. You need the day off... thanks for all your hard work. I expect you back here tomorrow morning.
She passed it over to him as he drank his coffee. He read the note as her heart pounded. "That's a laugh, Miss Reisert. There's a lot to be done and it pays the bills." And then, Lisa's heart plummeted to her stomach as she watched Tom take off and go into the elevator, whistling the whole way.
She could hardly bear to think of how upset Mrs. Shill would be later today.
The elevator beeped a few minutes later and this time it was Mr. and Mrs. Stewartson. "Miss Reisert," Mrs. Stewartson said energetically. "We're looking for a new restaurant for breakfast. Not that we don't like breakfasts here," she added hastily, "but we're looking for something new. Got any recommendations?"
"Hastings, down the street," Lisa said quickly, probably too quickly. Usually she tried to surmise what would be best for each individual customer based on their personality, the way they dressed, and the way they interacted with others. But today was different. She wanted as many people to get out of the hotel as possible, and quickly. "It's a great restaurant, I think you'd like it."
And she tried the note trick again.
Get out. Don't return until later tonight. Terrorist in basement. Please call police. And don't say a word-- hotel tapped. She passed the note on. Great. Mrs. Stewartson probably thought she was a paranoid lunatic. Mrs. Stewartson passed the note to her husband who apparently hadn't read the whole note. "A terrorist in the basement?" he said loudly.
Shit, shit, shit. "Get the hell out of here," Lisa whispered as energetically as she could. They didn't need to be told twice, after seeing Lisa's panicked expression. They both ran out the double doors.
As for her own safety, she ran into her office and shut the door. And-- her keys. Damn. Jackson had them. She was going to die today. Her arm was still extremely sore from when he had twisted it behind her and she wasn't even half his match in terms of strength.
Well, there were pens on her desk. She grabbed one, feeling dizzy and sore and so, so frightened.
"Well," she heard from the other side of the door. "I thought I knew you better than that, Leese. My whole plan for stealing you last night was to make you too scared to fight back today. I see my plan didn't work as well as I'd hoped. I'd kill you now if I didn't want you here to take care of all these people. You're nothing to me. When this is all over, you're going to be another one of my victims and no one will see you again until you're lying in a ditch somewhere."
Her legs trembled underneath her, and she fell helplessly on the ground in front of her desk. The pen drooped out of her hand. He was talking about her death as if death didn't matter, as if it was just another thing on his to-do list. She wondered where Cynthia was. She hoped Cynthia wouldn't make it.
"I see I'm going to have to work harder," he continued, barging in the door and standing over her. Lisa screamed, hoping someone, anyone would hear her and come in. He moved quickly, pressing his hand over her mouth. "I'll kill anyone who walks in here, Lisa. I can't fail this time. Thanks to you, I've already failed once, and you know what that means in my business? It's better you than me dead, Leese. Now, after that slip up, there's some serious work to be done. I've got a bunch of guys out there to take care of any potential police who might be snooping around. And I've got back up to help me with the actual hotel. Don't screw this up, Leese. I'm serious about this." He let go of her, pushing her hard.
And with that, he left Lisa with nothing to do but feel her helplessness and her fear.
The rest of the morning passed by in agony. The Killmore party had called for security reasons (not like it'll matter in when you get here anyway, she'd thought numbly.) Cynthia had come in slightly late, chattering away happily about a man she'd met the night before, and then reminded Lisa that Mark had asked for the day off.
And then she heard a noisy party walk through. Two men lead the way, and Lisa recognized them as Bob Killmore and John Reinold."...well, it's matter of whether high stakes testing really works," said one of the men. Men and women in suits followed behind the two men, carrying balloons and campaign posters. "The stats say they do, but that could be for any number of reasons..."
Killmore and Reinold stopped in front of the desk. Rebecca peered out shyly from behind her father.
"We'll sweep the grounds," said one of the Secret Service men. "Go on ahead upstairs but don't go anywhere else unless you're with one of us."
"Hope you find everything comfortable," Lisa managed to say. Get the hell out of here. She wondered if either politician had ESP. Unlikely, but it would make her life a lot easier. She allowed herself to fall into step with them, escorting them and their secret service agents to their room.
In the elevator, Mrs. Killmore looked at her sympathetically. "Honey, you're shaking. You feeling all right?"
"I'm fine," Lisa lied. She wondered how many times she'd lied to hotel patrons that day. Probably more than she'd ever lied to anyone.
Rebecca gave her a slightly inquisitive glance. Her eyebrows furrowed. Lisa really did wonder if that girl wasn't equipped with some sort of supernatural mind-reading ability. She'd taken enough science courses in high school and college to know that kind of thing didn't exist. But Rebecca seemed to have a keen knowledge of just about everything.
"You sure you're all right?" Mrs. Reinold said to her daughter, pulling some tissues out of her purse and wiping Rebecca's cheek.
"I'm sure, Mom. And I'm twelve, not nine."
"I know, dear, I just get so worried sometimes..."
Mrs. Reinold's worrying did nothing for Lisa's nerves. If anything, it made her feel guilty as she escorted the two families into the hallway.
It happened all at once. Lisa, the Reinolds, and the Killmores saw the Secret Service men lying on the ground, dead. Mrs. Reinold screamed, her voice echoing dully in the hallway. Lisa shuddered. It was all she was capable of at the moment; it seemed that emotion evaded her now. She couldn't scream or cry; she could only be numb.
Jackson and several men in suits followed behind him. Lisa noticed Jackson didn't have his gun with him, but each of the men behind him had one.
"Mr. Killmore. Comply with everything we tell you and no one gets hurt. Fail to negotiate with us and, well, I'm sorry to say, the Reinolds family will next be seen in a closed casket," one of the men behind Jackson said firmly. "Now. Let's all talk in here, shall we?"