Chapter 21.5
In the fancy bathroom in New Delhi, India...
The twelve Russians removed large, powerful weapons from their bags, loaded them, and walked out the door.
Captain Karpukhin indicated through a rousing game of charades for Ziad to stay in the bathroom until the soldiers returned, so they could return safely to Russia.
Ziad wasn't too happy with this change in plans, but decided that it was probably a good idea to obey, especially considering that he actually did need to use a toilet, and he was surrounded by rather nice ones.
As Ziad conducted his business with the Indian Government's toilets, he heard gunshots.
A lot of gunshots.
The gunfire lasted about twenty minutes.
Ziad stood in the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror as sweat poured down his face, portkey-rope clutched tightly in his hands.
Finally the door opened.
Alas, it wasn't Captain Karpukin or any of the Russian soldiers, but an Indian woman of about thirty or forty years, scared shitless and looking for the proper place to hide, a bathroom seeming a good place for that predicament.
"Hello." said Ziad.
The woman stared at Ziad.
"Seriously? 'Hello?' That's your response in this situation. People are dying out there and you say hello!"
"I couldn't think of anything else to say! I went with the first thing that came to mind."
"It was bloody insensitive, you know. Maybe a good scream, some cowering, or even an 'oh thank god it's not one of the shooters' would be more appropriate?"
"I'll keep that in mind the next time I'm in a building that's being shot to pieces by Ru-... Pakistani special forces."
The woman continued staring at him. Ziad shifted uncomfortably.
Ziad was anticipating what would happen when the Russians returned. The woman would be shot, no doubt.
"You might want to hide in one of those stalls," he said. "A little bird tells me they're coming here soon. And the toilets are quite clean and comfortable. If you get out alive I suggest a raise for the janitorial staff, providing they also survive."
"And you know this... How?"
"Well... Um... How do I put this? Ah yes. I used the toilets."
"No, you fool! How do you know the shooters are coming back?"
"Ah! That does make more sense. Well, I suppose you could say that I'm with the shooters. I'm one of their group. I work for them. However you want to put it."
The woman took this unexpected turn of events rather better than Ziad expected. Indeed, she laughed.
"You? You're what, sixteen, seventeen? With Pakistani special forces? As if. Ha!"
There was a brief but very insistent knock on the door.
"It's clear!" shouted Ziad at the door. He opened one of the stalls and gestured for the woman to enter. She gave one frightened look at the door and did so. Ziad closed the door behind her.
The door to the bathroom opened.
Captain Karpukhin limped inside, clutching a bleeding arm. Six soldiers entered, all in various states of bloodiness, and all dragging bodies of their fellow soldiers behind them.
Captain Karpukhin grapped the rope, smearing his blood across it. The soldiers followed suit.
Right as Ziad reached for the rope, the stall door opened. A camera followed by a slender arm appeared. When Ziad's fingers brushed the rope, the camera flashed.
Ziad felt a jerk somewhere around his navel-
-and was deposited back at the Russian special forces barracks.
"So that's where this handsome photograph came from?" The Man across the table said, picking up a copy of the aforementioned picture, featuring Ziad's face square in the frame.
"Such a shame you blinked when the camera went off. Otherwise it's quite a good picture. Quite heroic, if you ignore the historical context."
"Can you cut the smart-ass attitude?" said Ziad, "That's my job."
"As you wish."
"So yes, that's how I became the most wanted terrorist in the world."
"What a story, Ziad."
Author's Note:
Okay, yes. This one is really really short. However, before you sue me, this is really where chapter 21 should have ended, but I didn't write it. So view it more as chapter 21.5.
Hopefully the real Chapter 22 will be coming shortly.
Enjoy!