CHAPTER 11: STANDOFF
April 8, 2008
U.S. Embassy
Tripoli, Libya
Sam Fisher and Nadia Florence worked their way through the ventilation shaft, and exited on the other side of the lobby. The loud sound of rescue helicopters and boots slamming into the ground in a parading fashion told Fisher the Spetsnaz back-up team arrived to assist them. Fisher and Nadia moved through the lobby, until they reached the area where the hostages were once at. They were gone. Safely evacuated. Fisher now had to capture Fouad, and he had to also get Nadia to safety, because her work here was done.
Fisher spotted Vasnir Opalev, equipped with a MP-IKMS-72, Kalashnikov-variant assault rifle, and a flash light under the barrel, to help him see through the grey clouds of gunpowder, and dimness of the lobby.
"Colonel!" Fisher said towards Opalev. Opalev turned around, and smiled, disengaging his flashlight from his barrel, and shining it in Sam's and Nadia's face.
"Oh man. I though you two were dead. We can't find Zillah anywhere. We think he may have escaped to the rooftop, but we haven't checked up there yet. We've got the hostages out of here, and checked for anymore. The embassy is clear."
"Good. I'll head for the rooftop. I'll see if I can find and capture Zillah."
Opalev looked at Sam's body.
"Where is your equipment?" The colonel asked.
"It's confiscated. I don't need it." Sam said. He looked at Nadia.
"Nadia, go with this man. He'll hold you in safety until we can settle this mission." Fisher said.
Nadia simply nodded, and Vasnir walked Nadia down the staircase. Fisher wiped his tired eyes, and began to proceed up to the rooftop. Once he was up there, he saw no one. It was empty and barren, just like the open desert. Fisher walked deeper, until he reached the center of the rooftop. He looked around once more, and suddenly felt a sharp stinging pain lash across his back.
April 8, 2008
NSA Temporary Base
9 Kilometers West of Uganda
Irving Lambert drank his coffee, as he watched the monitors on the screen. The monitors lit the whole small room, like a candle would do to a small closet. There were a total of twelve monitors. The first six, to the left of the panoramic wall, portrayed various cable news networks like CNN, MSNBC, Fox News Channel, and NBC. They all covered the operation conducted at the embassy in Tripoli. Of course, the cameras were far from the actual area of operations. For example, a reporter on MSNBC was at the Russian military base, Iroquois, interviewing a commander there. The other correspondents were miles from the mission. Lambert turned his head to watch Anna Grimstoddir typing on her desktop computer, refreshing infrared reconnaissance satellite pictures. Every ninety-six seconds, a new picture showed up on the screen of her desktop computer.
The satellite recorded Sam's every move. Right now, it seemed Sam was fighting with another person. It was exactly clear to where he was since the satellite was infrared, but Sam had been in a fist-battle for the past three minutes. Lambert wasn't concerned for Sam because he was skillful, and can pretty much survive anything. Lambert was worried about the hostages, which were safely in the custody of the Spetsnaz. Which was a load off of his chest.
April 8, 2008
Two Hours Until Sunrise
Tripoli, Libya
Sam had been fighting Fouad for ten minutes now. Sam was amazed at the speed, and precision the man was using to fight. He was armed with a butterfly pocket knife, and only managed to slash Sam once in the back. Sam avoided the man's feints and vertical/horizontal slash movements, and was able to squeeze in a few hits upon Fouad. Fisher could tell the man was losing speed, and strength. The two hadn't said a word, just fighting. An old-fashioned gladiatorial fight.
When the man lunged at Sam's stomach, Fisher moved out of the way of the moving knife, and was able to disarm him, and knock him to the ground.
"How's that for an unfair advantage?" Sam said, kicking the knife away from Fouad's hand.
"Ah, you American." Fouad grunted and stood up. Fouad tried to swing at Fisher, but he simply moved from the path of the moving fist, and counterattack with a knee-blow to the ribs. Fouad groped at his right ribcage, and grunted. He stepped back to catch his breath.
"Listen, Fouad. You should just give up. You're not going to win."
"Allah's men never lose..." Fouad came back into the fighting stance position, and feinted with his left fist, and ended up striking Sam's left temple with his right. Sam fell back. The blow was dizzying. Sam could hear Fouad laugh, and was about to finish Sam off with a finish stomp to the stomach, but Sam swung his body away from Fouad's moving boot, and kicked Fouad in the back. Fouad grunted, and crashed to the ground. Fisher then stood up, and was going to give Fouad a good KO, but he suddenly heard a loud report from a pistol, and felt a numb impact against his shoulder.
Fouad had pulled out a Barretta from the back of his pants, and shot Sam. The American stumbled back, and fell to the ground. He knew he had hit the American right in the chest. Fouad said a silent prayer to Allah, and stood up. He looked at the dead American, shook his head, and walked towards the ladder that led back to the lobby floor.
Sam opened his eyes, and looked at Fouad moving back down the ladder. The "play dead" plan worked. But Sam's shoulder was numb, as if the bullet had hit a vital nerve. But he still had to capture Fouad. But Sam wasn't going to capture him...he is going to make sure he's dead...
