Everyone guessed wrong about the timer except NeverEndingBliss. Well-- they knew it had to do with the bomb, but everyone mentioned about faking the bomb, because of the ticking. What are timers used for, people? To keep track of time! Besides, what kind of nuke can you send in a box, and what kind of nuke ticks?
I think this chapter is a little sad. A lot of talking on the phone, but it's good talking.
Anyway, uh, I already have a story for after A Questionable End, which is coming out in September, and will take at least a semester to finish. Grr. I think I'm getting a lot of ideas at once, and that's probably not good, since I haven't finished AQE. Anyway, I'm going to write a story about Julius, because he's dead, and all. Kind of tribute thing, but an actual story. About his relationship with Mulch (which I've decided started in kindergarten over a pink crayon), his run-in with his brother, which lead to his commandership, his love/hate relationship with Foaly, and his love life, which is obviously Vinyaya. ;)
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.
Around seven that evening, half-way through The Tyrant's meeting and interrogation of Zane, Valerie called the Criminal Union's hotline. Some idiot answered the phone. Probably a young clerk who'd just gotten the job and was anxious to please. "Yes?"
In the background, voices hummed, and she heard the word: Madam several times. She had no idea so many people knew so much about her. Perhaps they were just making it up. "Hi. This is Madam. I'd like to negotiate with The Tyrant, and I don't have his number. Can you hook me up?"
With a clatter, and a resounding shriek Valerie felt inclined to believe was heard for several miles, the clerk stood up, screamed: "It's Madam!" and fell down. She wasn't used to speaking with celebrities.
Only a few moments later, the phone was picked up by a serious sounding man in his forties or so. "Hello, this is the Criminal Union, how may I assist you?"
"Hi," said Valerie patiently. "I'd like to speak with The Tyrant and I haven't got his number. I realize a nuke could kill a lot of innocent people, and I'd like to negotiate this without violence."
For an instant only there was an uncertain pause. "Thank you for being willing to negotiate before acting. He's been advised to cooperate. If he does not, please call us back before finalizing your actions, because we may be able to help you. It's dialing now."
"Thanks." Valerie peered down into the conference room, amused at The Tyrant's annoyance when his phone began to ring. He finally picked it up, and growled out a hello to someone at the CU, eyes widening in shock when he learned Madam was waiting to speak to them. After switching to room speakers, he indicated he was ready, and Madam was on the phone.
"Good evening."
The Tyrant squirmed in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. "Er… hello."
Everyone around the table was leaning forward intently, holding their breaths, and hoping she would ask for something they could immediately promise her.
Valerie said nothing.
"Is there… ah… something you want?" He wiped the sweat off his face.
"You've been questioning Zane." Valerie liked watching the whole room squirm. Zane was the only one who seemed comfortable right now.
"Yes," said The Tyrant rather weakly.
"I don't like that." Valerie grinned to herself. "You see, I'm a little fond of Zane. I don't like that at all."
The Tyrant got a little paler. "I'm— sorry. It won't happen again. I mean, if we could make it up to him in any way. We were just worried about the nuke, and we thought—"
"Enough."
He stopped babbling and waited. So did the rest of the room. The atmosphere was uncomfortable at best.
"How have you treated him otherwise?"
"Very well!" gasped The Tyrant. "Would you like to speak with him perhaps?"
"I would. Talk to me Zane. Any complaints?"
The whole room turned towards Zane, silently begging him to assure her that he was perfectly happy, and she should let them off the hook for the questioning after all.
Zane smiled heartlessly at the room. "I miss you, dear. It's been abominable keeping them in line without you."
"I miss you too. How have they treated you other than the questioning?"
"Alright, I suppose," he admitted grudgingly. "It could have been better, but there wasn't any torture this time. I was well fed. I wasn't disturbed too often. I got ice cream when I asked for it."
Valerie laughed. "How nice of them."
There was silence for a few more minutes, in which Zane leaned back comfortably in his chair, and the others in the room grew more and more tense.
"Is there something you want?" asked The Tyrant finally, in growing desperation.
"Of course. Not from you though. It's the Sun Ye On I'm concerned with."
Heads snapped up across the room. They hadn't expected this. Finally though, one of the Sun Ye On representatives who spoke good English asked, "How can we help you?"
"Tell me," said Valerie quietly. There was a terrifying cool in her voice. "Is the man who ordered my family obliterated with you?"
This upset the room even more. Madam had a blood grudge against someone. Oh happy days. This made it even more unlikely that she would listen to reason.
Chinese heads turned, and one of the men below let out a strangled yell, and screamed: "It wasn't me! I was ordered to by—"
"He's dead though," someone said.
The man slumped back in his chair with a moan as several guards stepped closer to insure he did not escape. After all, if he was what they were bargaining with they couldn't very well afford for him to run off.
"The original one is dead," said the man finally. "The next in line is with us, yes."
Valerie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Tell me what my father did," she said finally, "that he was in fear all his life. What did he do, that demanded the senseless slaughter of a child and woman who knew nothing? What did he do?"
"You don't know?" came the amazed question.
"I have no idea. I only knew he knew something he wasn't supposed to know." Valerie fought inside herself for a moment before succumbing to a calm void of emotion.
There was a whispered conference below, in which several of the head men became more and more agitated. After much cursing and exclamations of anger, someone turned back to the phone. "He was involved in… shady… work between the Chinese and Japanese government. Only, we were the ones who hired him. He knew too much about our plans."
"You hired him to manipulate the governments." Valerie was not surprised by this. Her father had been brilliant, after all. "How did he do this?"
The man below shrugged. "He stole documents. He blackmailed others to make a little change here, or a little change there. He assassinated a few rising political leaders. He bribed a few more. He was good, but he was too good. He was out of our control."
"Why was he killed?" Valerie's voice was icy.
The Tyrant groaned slightly, and the man who'd been singled out as ordering them dead shuddered in his chair.
"We were afraid he would sell our plans to another government. The US government. He fled us for years. When you mentioned the CIA we were certain one of you had spoken with them."
"Why were the others killed?"
He hesitated.
"I am not afraid to detonate it," whispered Valerie tonelessly. "Answer me."
"We were afraid he had told them."
Valerie gritted her teeth, refusing to cry. "A child who could not even walk? You felt threatened by him?"
The accused man was sobbing loudly now, cringing at her every word, rocking back and forth. "I was only following orders!" he screamed. "I'm sorry! I am!"
"We offer our apology."
For a few moments, Valerie was silent. "Tell him to stand up on the table," she said finally.
"You don't want his name?" He asked in puzzlement.
"I don't need it if I can see his face. I am here in this room."
Everyone jumped at that. They hadn't expected her to be too far away, but in the room? With even greater nervousness than before, they began to squirm in their seats, and the guards hastily forced him onto the table.
Valerie stared down at his face for a long time. "He'll be dead before the night's over," she whispered. Then she hung up.
In the room below, pandemonium reigned supreme. That last line was certainly worrying. Would just he be dead, or would all of them be dead? Would Zane really protect them, or would he disappear as she had on several occasions now?
The CU called, and said that as far as they could tell the cell phone signal had originated in the room itself.
On the roof, Valerie sat in the dark, tears trickling down her face. Everything… everything was falling apart! "Why did you die, baby?" she sobbed. "Why?"
Slowly, she turned, and walked across the roof, not caring to watch the room as they begged Zane to interfere on their behalf any longer. Nothing matter anymore.
Nothing except getting Zane out alive, and blowing that man to pieces. He would be dead before the night was over.
Valerie let herself down the drain pipe, tugging the cap off her head and twisting the timer's knobs. Around the corner a young man was standing on guard duty, tense and nervous. He would have to do.
Wincing at the stiffness in her fingers, Valerie tore off a strip of the bandages, and painfully wrote a few words on it:
I'm a fair woman. Leave Zane where he is, or I'll press the button without waiting. I'm not in a good mood tonight.
It was enough. It would get her point across. Valerie pulled off the gloves, hesitated a moment, and then pulled off the shirt too. She didn't care anymore, and she was wearing a sports bra. There would be no doubt about who she was.
One step at a time, she walked around the corner.
When the guard turned, she was standing there. Her gun was only a few inches from his face. "Boo."
After choking on a scream, he hastily set down his own gun, and held up his hands, allowing her to back him into the wall. Still keeping her gun trained on him, Valerie held out the scrap of bandage to him. He took it, and then the kitchen timer, set for twenty minutes.
Valerie nodded slightly, picked up his gun, snatched the coil of rope from his pack, and stepped back, motioning at him impatiently.
The boy took off running as hard as he could, and Valerie climbed back up the drainpipe, certain that the note and the timer would get to The Tyrant in a few minutes.
She had barely returned to the skylight when the doors of the conference room burst open, and the boy came running in screaming something in Russian, face pure white.
The Tyrant snatched the note and the timer from the boy, snapping at the confused Chinese, "He saw her outside."
It only took a moment for him to read the note through, look at the timer, and realize what it was. They had eighteen minutes to get out of the area before she blew something up. And Zane needed to stay where he was. He told the Chinese this, and the room was clear in less than a minute after Zane was secured to the chair with many apologies.
Already, the helicopter pad was lighting up. Men were shouting, and Valerie heard several shots.
Below her, Zane looked only slightly confused, but he glanced around, waiting trustingly for her.
Valerie picked up the gun she had taken from the guard, and blew out the skylight, ignoring Zane's startled yelp. In silence, she knotted the rope around the chimney next to her. Then she tied the rope around her waist and slowly began to let herself through the window.
The chandelier hung fifteen feet to her left, sparkling in silence, seemingly innocent. She raised her gun, and fired four shots at when it met with the ceiling.
There was a horrible ripping sound as chunks of ceiling were pulled out with the chandelier like roots from the earth, and then a tremendous crash as thousands of lights broke at once, and a few hundred pound elaborate piece of metal fell to the table. Broken wires sizzled angrily, and dust clouded the room. Zane was choking and swearing, but appeared unhurt.
Valerie let the rest of the rope out, and dropped the last few feet to the table, hurrying towards the huge mess.
Carefully, ignoring everything from the continued pieces of falling ceiling, to Zane's yells, and the screams of people outside the room, she pulled apart the mass of wires.
Last week of school! Yes! (except for the fact that I have to take a ton of finals...)
You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)
