Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
A/N: Thank you, mvignal, for providing insight on the organization of a supermax!
Emma sighed. "Quite a mess your mum has created, hm?"
After the first wave of anger right after discovering her "condition" had passed, Emma had slowly become adjusted to the fact that very soon her life would take a whole new turn. By now actually talking to the baby when alone had become sort of a habit.
Ilsa had left the room for a moment, probably to talk to Brax.
Sly British bitch. She didn't want her to listen in, give her no chance to develop a plan that would fulfill her obligations with the FBI after all.
Well, too late, Thatcher. I've already thought of something. And there's no way you or the others could stop me. It's a perfect plan.
"Mum is going to get her life back", Emma told the baby. "She's going to restore her career and you and I won't have to worry about a thing."
Of course it was way too early to know what it would be, but she somehow had the feeling it would be a girl.
"I've got to warn you, I'm quite good at that… getting myself into trouble. I don't really mean to, you know? It just happens…." She placed her cuffed hands on her stomach as far as it was possible and spread her fingers.
"You're in for quite a ride…"
Despite the perfect plan Emma felt like crying. All this tricking and twisting… This was definitely not the way she had hoped things would turn out, back when she had decided to join the Bureau.
Jeez, so many years ago. She had dreamed quite big back then. And now she was this close to getting fired… of course, the plan, she was not going to get fired, but still… She felt sorry that she would have to throw Chance to the wolves. And Winston. On the other hand, she now had someone who depended on her, totally. She needed her job with the FBI, now more than ever.
"But don't worry, no matter what happens, I'll make sure you'll be alright. Always. I promise."
Be it a boy or a girl, Emma decided, she would definitely call it Angel.
Angel Barnes.
She gently stroked her stomach in slow circles.
… … …
At first Ames thought she had imagined it, but then the children stopped crying and she realized it was true – No more ominous sounds from the door. The attack had ceased.
… … …
"Shhht. Shhht. Be silent for a moment, will you?" Winston was tempted to put his hand over the wife's mouth. Of course she was worried about her children, but he needed to hear for a moment, for heaven's sake!
When she didn't react, he had no choice but to slap her.
Never ever had he hit a woman. The slap became a strong touch to her face halfway through. He just couldn't do it. But at least he got through to her.
"The attack has ceased!", he told her, still not quite believing it himself.
"Can we now get my children?", she asked.
… … …
Silence had fallen on the place and it hadn't gone unnoticed. Chance and Guerrero wordlessly looked at each other.
Chance nodded appreciatively.
She has pulled it off. You taught her well.
A smile, thin, but genuine, appeared on Guerrero's face.
No teaching this time, dude. She stood her ground, all by herself.
Now it was Chance's turn to smile, dying client, bloody hands, grave danger and all.
Proud of your girl, hm? that smile said.
Don't overdo it, dude.
… … …
Ilsa had told Brax they knew how to get his brother out of the maximum security prison.
To be honest, that was not exactly the truth.
There was a reason Brax hadn't gotten his brother out himself.
They didn't call it "supermax" for nothing…
And if someone like Brax shied away from something…
The blunt truth was, they had a few vague ideas about how to get his brother out of prison. Calling it a "plan" would have been stretching it.
A lot.
"Bribe is out of the question", Guerrero decided. "They catch you with that, Ilsa, and it's over. Not only for you, you'd drag the Foundation down, too."
Ilsa looked up, surprised. She hadn't expected him to take that into consideration.
"Inmates are kept in solitary 22-23 hours of the day. Maybe an altered Westpoint version?", Chance suggested, cautiously cleaning Ames' head wound.
"If the fake ID doesn't hold… and they check thoroughly…" Ames hissed as the antiseptic came in contact with her open flesh.
"We poison the dude."
Winston rolled his eyes at Guerrero. "I'm not sure if you grasped the concept – the basic idea is to placate Brax, not to make him even madder."
"The idea is not bad… a Dr. Crippen…" Chance finished patching up Ames. "Get some rest", he told her quietly.
"For heaven's sake! You are inventing those names randomly!", Winston accused the two. "Eight years of working together and you've never mentioned a Dr. Crippen before!"
"We're going to pressurize one of the prison infirmary's doctors to poison Brax' brother so that the symptoms indicate some major health issue. They put him in an ambulance, we ambush the ambulance", Ilsa explained matter-of-factly.
Wide-eyed, Winston turned to her: "How the…?"
Ilsa shrugged. You don't want to know the occasion Guerrero told me that…, said the look on her face.
… … …
Emma had heard that the team was back and she had also heard them talking, but hadn't been able to make out what exactly they were saying. All she could perceive were muffled voices. When the door to the room was suddenly opened, she jumped.
As much as she could… she was still securely tied to the chair.
Guerrero came walking in, strolled right past her and started rummaging around in one of the suitcases on the other end of the room.
The other team members came filing in, too.
"You're probably already late in contacting your FBI buddies and letting them know that you're alright", Guerrero said, put up a couple of electronic devices on the bed and connected them to the telephone.
Emma felt like cursing loudly. Damn it! They knew about that stipulation. But that was not a problem – they would have to let her talk to them. She could easily plant the safe word that would let her colleagues know she was in trouble. From that moment onwards they'd be on alert… they'd let the team break Brax' brother free, catch them in the act and then arrest them all.
Just then Chance produced a cloth and gagged her. Not in any way hurting her, but the gag was firm, she wouldn't be able to shake it off.
"Let us show you something", Guerrero said, dialed the number he had retrieved from Emma's cell phone and set the electronic devices in motion.
"People who are in danger of permanently losing their voice, due to cancer, for example, have the chance to conserve it with the help of special speech software that not only stores sentences recorded with their voice but actively uses them to form new sentences. Since the Marshall Pucci Foundation supports the development of this software, it always has access to the newest version…", Ilsa explained, unable to keep the triumph out of her voice completely.
Eyes saucer wide Emma witnessed how the device on the bed let her contact person know that she was perfectly alright, that the team would try and break in the supermax three days from now and that there was no need to worry about the prisoner's safety till then.
A device that imitated atmospheric disturbances glossed over any irregularities in the speech flow the program produced.
Oh damn, it really sounded like her and her contact person ate it all up.
"Wearing that recorder while keeping her under guard really paid off", Ames told Ilsa, grinning, rubbing salt into the wound, thank you very much.
Had Emma not been cuffed, she would have buried her face in her hands.
Her whole plan had gone up in flames.