Chapter Five

Tense Times Call for Movie Quotes

I kept falling over
I kept looking backward

All We Are, Matt Nathanson, s5e2 Family

The bullhorn amplifying the FBI negotiator's voice had a ripple effect across the ballroom.

"This is the FBI, and we have you surrounded. Release the hostages and come out with your hands in the air."

Both groups of hostages – those on the floor and the group on the platform – began shifting, turning in the direction of the kitchen where the voice had come and murmuring amongst themselves while growing both agitated and hopeful.

Mustafa began shouting at the other two terrorists in rapid Arabic, his eyes wild as he looked back and forth between his partners and the kitchen door.

Hamza, the leader, was the only one of them who appeared unruffled, although Tony could definitely see the telltale signs that he was beginning to sweat. He suspected things had snowballed a lot faster than the small group had anticipated.

Tony glanced over at Gibbs who was sitting still, as alert and ready as Tony felt. Shit was going to go down soon, and he had to make sure his team, Jeanne, Brad, and all the hostages came out of this alive. Ziva, too, looked tense and wary, her eyes the only part of her body in motion as she scanned the room.

Hamza grabbed his diplomat hostage and forcibly dragged him across the floor toward the kitchen door.

He barked an order at the other two terrorists who immediately began herding the hostages on the floor away from the kitchen, waving their weapons forcefully.

"If any of you on the platform move, I will shoot Zeki here in the head," Hamza said, placing the barrel of his gun against the temple of the terrified diplomat.

Gibbs growled his frustration low in his throat. They were all too far away to make a successful move at the moment. The platform where they sat was raised two steps with no easy way to relocate without being seen. They had to wait it out. Tony was tense but ready to act the moment his boss gave the signal.

"Do not enter, or I will start killing hostages," Hamza shouted at the negotiator through the closed kitchen door.

The noise from the group of hostages huddled on the floor intensified with sobs and heavy breathing. They were close to panicking, and Tony didn't think these terrorists were aware of it. The large crowd might be able to subdue the terrorists eventually with the sheer weight of their number, but it wasn't a guarantee. These were doctors used to giving aid, not soldiers prepared to kill if necessary. Even if they did succeed, it wouldn't come without a large loss of innocent life.

"There's no need to do that. We just want to talk and try to work this out," the negotiator said calmly through his bullhorn.

"If you want it to work out for these hostages, you will stay where you are," Hamza said, shaking Zeki so hard his glasses slid down his nose.

It was the first time Tony saw Hamza lose a little of his cool. He kept his eye on the door but kept glancing back, ensuring that his cohorts were handling the situation by herding the hostages back but also keeping them grouped together. Both Emir and Mustafa looked agitated and roughly shoved any of the hostages that they deemed weren't moving fast enough. Emir punched one man in the head when he protested being manhandled, causing more shrieks around them.

"This a lot of people for you to keep an eye on everyone. As a good will gesture to the FBI, why don't you send a few of the women out," Gibbs said.

"I don't need to show good will to your F-B-I," Hamza said, stretching the letters out derogatorily. "I can just kill a few if the number gets too unruly."

Gibbs shrugged. "Hey, I don't like 'em, either, but I do know if you show a willingness to bargain, it will buy you more time," he said.

Tony knew his boss was good, but he was still impressed watching him deal with the dirtbags. He sounded so unconcerned whether Hamza took his idea or not, but Tony knew that was far from the truth. Gibbs wouldn't rest until he got every hostage out of this room – alive if he could – and he'd probably prefer if all the terrorists were dead by the end.

Hamza issued what sounded like orders to Emir and Mustafa who began pointing to several of the women in the group, separating them from the others.

"Tony, I hope you can still hear me, and I know there's no way for you to let me know, but I'm still getting your signal," McGee's voice came from the ear wig, whispering.

Tony had no idea why he was whispering since he was in another room far from the terrorists, but it struck Tony as such a Probie thing, he really had to struggle to keep from grinning. He fake-coughed loudly instead.

"Listen, the FBI is here, and they have the ballroom completely surrounded, and a SWAT team ready to go. They also have a suspect in custody that they believe supplied the weapons. They're questioning him now," McGee continued.

Tony coughed again, a little louder this time. Gibbs looked at him curiously, but as of yet, the terrorists weren't paying attention to his sudden coughing fit.

"Wait – Tony, can you hear me?" McGee asked, and Tony could picture him eagerly leaning into his headset. About time, McOblivious.

McGee had to be really nervous to have taken this long to pick up on it. Tony coughed again, his loudest yet. This time Emir turned sharply, narrowing his eyes. He spoke harshly to Hamza, again in Arabic.

"All of you up on the platform, move slowly toward the others on the floor and sit with them. Any sudden moves, and I will not hesitate," Hamza said.

Emir stalked over to Tony and grabbed a handful of hair, pulling him along. "You sit here where I can see you," he said, sneering.

Tony smiled, his split lip tearing a little more as he did. "Hey, watch the hair. I understand, though – I'd want to look at me, too," he said, causing Emir to scowl as he released him.

The diplomats who'd been on the platform did as they were told, along with Gibbs and Ziva who'd managed to move close enough to sit near Tony. He met their eyes, but Emir was still too close to risk speaking freely.

"Why were you coughing? Who are you trying to signal?" Emir asked Tony suspiciously.

"What d'you mean? My throat is dry. D'you think you could pour me a glass of that Merlot over there?" he asked, jerking his head toward the bar.

Emir hit him again on his already-bleeding lip. Tony spat out a little more blood, but refused to look away from the enraged man, who was obviously growing more unstable as the night stretched on.

He noticed Jeanne flinch when he was struck. She was sitting close to where Emir had pushed him down, still tending to her injured patient. The icy chill that had enveloped his heart since her appearance thawed a little. No matter how angry she was, she still didn't want to see him hurt.

"Not another word out of you, or you can spend the rest of this siege unconscious," Emir snarled.

"You could just shoot him," Hamza said lazily. "After all, he was the one who killed Adem."

"He's a Fed," Emir said, then continued speaking but switching to Arabic. He sounded extremely agitated, and whatever he was saying was getting Hamza worked up, as well.

They dragged the body of the first hostage killed away from the clearing in the center of the floor, leaving a smeared blood trail in their wake. They left him against the wall, no doubt in warning what would happen if anyone else didn't follow their captors' instructions.

Gibbs watched them warily. "What are they saying," he asked in a very low voice while the terrorists still shouted at each other.

"They are speaking Kurdish, not Arabic, so I have only a limited understanding. I believe they are arguing over simply killing Tony," Ziva whispered back, her dark eyes meeting Tony's as she reported.

"Keep quiet until we see what the Feebs have planned," Gibbs said, barely moving his lips but knowing Tony's keen hearing would pick it up. He glared again for good measure.

Tony caught Brad's eyes watching him, looking concerned, but he gave his doctor a brief thumbs up to let him know he was fine. Brad rolled his eyes, and Tony grinned.

Mustafa had a group of about seven women standing near the ballroom's main entrance. "What about her and her?" he asked, using his chin to point at Jeanne and another woman sitting next to her.

"Not her," Emir said at once, his attention diverted from Hamza. "She was a late arrival and had words with the nosy Fed outside. They know each other. She stays, along with the one who came in with her."

"I don't know them or anything about them. I'm Dr. Mark Korhonen, Finland's leading expert on Infectious Diseases. I'm here for a conference, and I met her on a relief mission in Gabon. She knows them, but I don't," Jeanne's companion said heatedly, getting to his feet. He'd apparently decided his acquaintance with Jeanne was far more trouble than it was worth.

Jeanne's disgusted scowl could wither a stronger man, which Korhonen clearly wasn't. It bolstered Tony's spirits to see it.

Emir shoved him forcefully back to a seated position. "Sit down and shut up. Neither of you go. Take another."

Mustafa gathered three other terrified female hostages and put them with the others whom he'd separated. Emir motioned to the remaining hostages to fill in the empty spaces. He nodded at Hamza, who was apparently going to take Gibbs' suggestion of a good will offering.

While Emir was paying attention to the gathered women, Tony leaned toward Gibbs. "Accomplice apprehended," he said quietly.

Ziva's head jerked, evidently realizing that Tony still had his earwig, but Gibbs turned his fierce stare on her, warning her to remain quiet. Ziva rolled her eyes as if she thought it was ridiculous that she would give anything away.

"I am sending a group of ten women out as a… a good will gesture according to one of the Feds we have here," Hamza said loudly. "No one is to come into this room, or I simply start shooting all the hostages, starting with the women coming out."

"Understood. Where should we watch for them?" the negotiator asked.

"You'll figure it out," Hamza said, jerking his head towards Emir.

Emir stood by the main entrance, a set of handsomely carved double doors leading out into the hallway where Tony and Ziva had patrolled only hours ago. Clutching his weapon, he cautiously opened one side of the door a crack before darting backwards. He motioned to the women with his hand, instructing them to leave through the opening. The women hurried through, some of them crying, all of them terrified. Tony saw a few turn back to their colleagues who remained behind, their eyes troubled.

As all three terrorists were focused on the women leaving, Tony took the opportunity to lean towards Jeanne who was now very close to his seated position. "Don't draw any more attention to yourself," he said softly in her ear.

Her body stiffened as his breath gently ghosted against her hair, and he couldn't help but wonder if she was remembering some of the same intimate moments he was. Her eyes flashed, and she looked as if she wanted to tell him exactly where to stick his advice but thought better of it as her eyes roamed over his battered face. She pursed her lips and looked away.

"You should take that advice as well, Tony," Brad said softly. He was sitting on the other side of Gibbs so he could hear what they were saying.

"It's my job, Brad."

"You know each other?" Jeanne asked incredulously, turning back to look at them.

"Long story," Brad replied.

McGee began speaking through his earwig, "The women are all out, and the FBI is talking to them. Gibbs was good. See if he can get them to release a few more."

Tony caught Gibbs eye and nodded minutely. He raised his eyebrows.

"There are still a lot of women here, and more of us than you need for a negotiation. Hell, you've got three Federal agents. Don't need much more than that," Gibbs said aloud, his voice carrying across the ballroom.

"No. That is all that will leave," Hamza said.

"Ask about Dr. Higgins. He's injured and needs more assistance than I can provide here," Jeanne said quietly, indicating the wounded man who was breathing through the pain in short gasps. The blood from his leg wound had drenched through all the cloth napkins they'd placed around.

Tony never could deny those imploring eyes anything, and this was no different.

"What about the injured doctor? You don't want him to bleed out, or you'll have another murder to add to your growing list of charges," he said.

"He wouldn't be injured if he hadn't tried to escape. He will not leave," Hamza said. "You are wasting your breath."

"So, what does he want?" McGee asked through the ear wig so only Tony could hear.

"You've already had your chance to talk to the Turkish Diplomat. What else is it you want? Tell them your demands, so we can all go home," Tony said loudly.

"We have not finished our conversation after being so rudely interrupted. The FBI has no need to know what we discuss," Hamza said, his attention returning to Zeki Aras who remained separated from everyone else, looking defeated.

"I cannot help you," he said hopelessly.

Tony cringed. That wasn't what these terrorists wanted to hear. Zeki needed to stall, or they were going to kill him. How could he not know that?

"You have to tell the FBI something if you don't want them storming in here. They can be a real trigger-happy bunch," Tony said, drawing their attention back to himself.

"He's right. They won't wait forever," Gibbs said, having Tony's six. "I'm surprised they've held off this long."

Mustafa and Emir were both shifting on their feet, glancing warily at the room's entry points. A renewed discussion in Kurdish erupted between the three, giving the hostages time to converse.

"McGee," Gibbs said. Although he was speaking to Tony and keeping his voice low, he knew the Probie could hear him. "Tell the FBI to stand down. Let us handle it. These aren't experienced terrorists, and they'll make another mistake. You have ears on the room, and so far, they're listening to us. The negotiator is only making them nervous."

"How am I supposed tell them to stay out of it?" McGee asked. "They won't listen. They never want to give NCIS the lead."

"Just tell them to be nice," Tony said.

"What?" McGee asked incredulously.

"I want you to be nice, until it's time to not be nice. Tell them that," Tony said, picturing McGee's overwhelmed expression. The kid still tended to hesitate rather than plough forward.

"Roadhouse, Tony? Really? That's the best you could come up with for a bunch of hostages in a function room?" Jeanne asked, exasperated.

He'd forgotten how she always caught his movie references, so unlike the rest of his team. Still, he wasn't going to let her get away with criticizing his movie trivia, no matter what circumstances they found themselves in.

"Well, no. Actually, Nakatomi Plaza was my first thought, but under the present circumstances, I didn't think I should mention that one," he said.

She simply stared at him blankly for a moment, but he knew the moment recognition dawned, and she tried not to give him the satisfaction of a smile.

At that moment, Dr. Higgins, the injured man, groaned again and tried to pull the tie off his wound. Brad leaned over to help Jeanne keep it in place.

"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine," Tony muttered under his breath.

"Focus, DiNozzo," Gibbs said.

Figured he'd have heard and recognized that one. Even Gibbs knew Casablanca.

"What on earth are you rambling about?" Ziva asked angrily, breaking into their hushed conversation. "We have a serious situation here."

"Leave it, Ziva. Is our message understood?" Gibbs asked.

Ziva looked furious at being dismissed, but Tony knew Gibbs wanted to know the FBI's reaction to his instruction to let the captive agents deal with the terrorists.

Tony shrugged. "Received, if not welcomed."

Gibbs nodded. "Tobias?" he asked.

"He's not here. I already checked," McGee said through the earwig.

Tony shook his head.

"All right, you've done the right thing by releasing some of the women, Demir. Why don't you let the rest go while we work on your demands. You still haven't told us what you want," the negotiator's loud voice boomed across room causing many to startle.

Mustafa and Emir both began speaking in rapid Kurdish, but Hamza waved them down.

"How do you know who I am?" Hamza asked sharply, eyes narrowed.

"I told them to let you handle it, but they're not going for it," McGee said, sounding stressed.

Tony looked at Gibbs and shook his head.

"You are Hamza Demir, Mustafa Yldimn, and Emir Ozturk. We have a hotel worker in custody, a Stephen Wright, and he gave up your names. He also said that he provided the weapons you're using," the negotiator informed them.

Renewed conversation between the three terrorists commenced, and it sounded as if they were arguing.

"Ziva?" Gibbs asked.

"They are speaking too fast to catch it all, but they are accusing each other of bringing in this Wright person. It sounds as if they are trying to blame the one you already killed, Tony," she said.

"Of course, they are. Always best to implicate the dead guy," Tony said.

"The FBI says you have an hour. After that, they're coming in." McGee said urgently.

"We have one hour," Tony said, doing his best Dr. Evil impersonation.

Gibbs scowled. "Feebs never could take an order."

Tony thought it was rather ironic coming from Gibbs, but he chose not to mention that at the moment. Gibbs was definitely sitting within striking distance, and Tony already had a headache. They had to find a way to de-escalate the situation before the FBI started shooting.

"One hour until what?" Brad asked tensely, his wary eyes volleying between Gibbs and Tony.

"Until they're coming in. No matter what happens, you stay down until its over," Tony said, looking at Jeanne in much the same way Gibbs had tried to will him to remain still earlier.

"What are you going to do?" she asked. Her eyes were wide, but she seemed resolved.

"We're going to try and end it before they come in, but everyone needs to keep their heads down. We'd like to avoid anyone else getting hurt," Tony said, willing her to understand the full impact of his words.

He knew it was possible that one or both of them could die here tonight. He'd do anything within his power to stop it, but he had to at least let her know that he'd never wanted her to be hurt. He didn't want their last words to be the angry ones out by the elevator.

Jeanne kept her haunted cyan eyes locked on his. She didn't say anything, but she didn't look away, and he suspected she might be thinking something similar.

The terrorists were still arguing amongst themselves, but Hamza finally waved his arm in disgust and ordered the other two back to watching the hostages while he returned to his captive diplomat. They were on the opposite side of the room, and Tony couldn't hear what they were saying – therefore, McGee couldn't, either.

Emir was the guard on their side of the ballroom, and he was glowering at them all as he took his position.

"This is too large a group for only two of you. You should continue to build a relationship with the negotiator. It'll help you when this is over. At least release the women," Gibbs said, staring at him intently.

"Shut up. No one else is being released," Emir said, snarling.

"I heard the one in charge say that, but is that really what you think you should do?" Gibbs asked.

"He is not in charge. We are a team," Emir said.

"Seems to me, he's sitting over there only in charge of one hostage and leaving you to do the bulk of the work. I'd think you'd want to make the decision on how many it's reasonable to watch," Gibbs said, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his arms as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"Shut up, Fed. You are not in charge here," Emir said.

"No, that would be Hamza, and you're just following his orders. I get it," Gibbs said.

"I am warning you for the last time to shut your mouth," Emir said, baring his teeth.

"You just do not want to hear it because you know he is right," Ziva said. "Releasing more hostages makes your job easier, no?"

They were interrupted when the diplomat who Hamza had been speaking to yelled, "You're not listening. I can't give you what you want. It's too late. I've made my position known, and there are many others who agree with me. They'll take up my cause in my place."

"Not if you are killed for your words," Hamza shouted back.

"Especially if I'm killed. My colleagues feel just as strongly about their beliefs as you do about yours," Zeki said, imploring.

"You will recant," Hamza insisted.

The crowd in the room was watching the exchange with bated breath, the tension palpable. Tony wished Zeki would just placate the crazed man until they could figure a way out of this mess, but it didn't look like that was going to happen. The nerves on the hostages were reaching breaking point.

"Mr. Aras, there has to be some room for compromise here," Gibbs said, his stern voice carrying across the ballroom. Neither Zeki or Hamza turned away from their heated debate.

"It won't make a difference. A coerced reversal will never hold up to the scrutiny. Even as I speak, there are others following through at home," Zeki said.

Without warning, Hamza raised his weapon and fired, shooting Zeki in the chest. He crumpled and lay gasping on the floor, grievously injured but still alive. Hamza stared down on him with deadened eyes.

Chaos erupted in the ballroom. Shrieks and screams from the hostages as they all surged to their feet, trying to scramble away from the gunfire. They spread out in smaller pockets around the room, covering their heads with their arms and taking shelter beneath some of the tables. It took several moments before the terrorists were able to regain order from the pandemonium.

On the floor with a large bloodstain spreading around him, Zeki moaned in agony.

Jeanne tried to move toward the fallen man, but Emir forced her back, refusing to allow her to pass.

"He needs help," she said, pleading.

"That is no concern of yours," Emir said coldly.

"I'm a doctor – it most certainly is my concern. If you won't allow me to help, allow one of the other doctors in the room to give him aid. Please," Jeanne said, her eyes bright.

"We have nothing to bargain with now. You weren't supposed to kill him," Mustafa shouted, turning angrily towards Hamza.

"I am in charge. No one helps him," Hamza said, snarling. "Get all the hostages back on the floor together."

"What's going on in there? There have been shots fired, we're coming in," the negotiator said, his amplified voice echoing around the ballroom.

"If you come in, all of them will die," Hamza said, now sounding thoroughly unhinged.

"They're getting restless. Release a few more hostages to calm them down," Gibbs said. "It'll alleviate the tension and buy you some more time."

"Shut up! All of you shut up," Emir said, frantic.

Using his hands, Tony signaled to some of the hostages to get down where they were rather than returning to the dance floor. More spread out like this across the cavernous room, it would be easier for some to make an escape.

On the floor, Zeki Aras shrieked in pain.

Jeanne once again tried to move towards him. Tony reached out to grab onto her and hold her back, but he wasn't fast enough, and his fingers only brushed against the delicate fabric of her sleeve.

Emir raised his gun. Tony saw it all happening in slow motion, and he knew he couldn't stop it. Springing to his feet as if on a hinge, he leapt as far as he could, tackling Jeanne like a linebacker. A searing pain ripped through his chest as he fell, landing on top of her as everything went dark.

Author's Note

Cringes. I do love a cliffy. Sorry, not sorry.

Melinda's NCIS Rule Number One: Always leave a comment – it keeps the author motivated. Thanks very much to all who take the time to share your thoughts. I thrive on the feedback, and it always makes me want to write more.