on a paperback. For them, it won't be about money unless they get published. Most of them don't even have a realistic concept of how much -- or how little, actually -- published authors truly earn from their books. Today they'll bitch about stacks of rejection slips, wasted time and postage, and stupid editors who can't see the value in their work. If they happen to get published, they'll wind up bitching about being screwed by their publishers over rights and book returns from chain stores." After a short laugh, Mandi asked, "Then why do you go to these panels?" Grinning, Cade said, "Sometimes they stay on topic." She shrugged and said, "I feel as if I've just wasted an hour with that one. Don't you?" "Nope. I can usually find some way to use even an experience like that in one of my ebooks." Mandi was about to say something when her cell phone chirped. She and Cade stepped out of the flow of foot traffic as she answered the call. "Angel here." "Alan. We found Hamad Marjeel and two of his people right across the street. The Rivage seems to be getting all their business today. Instead of running, they grabbed a couple of hostages in 831 and they're demanding media coverage." "Meaning you want me to go in as a reporter?" "It's all we can come up with. We're staging up in 835." Mandi said, "I'm on my way." "You'll be holding a mike and handling the interview," said Cade. "You'll need a cameraman." "You're volunteering?" Shrugging, Cade said, "Well, if you'd prefer to have one of the younger guys in there with you... You know, one of the guys with a wife and kids..?" Mandi gave him a wry look and nodded, then said, "Alan, I already have a cameraman." "Cade?" "Yes. We'll be there shortly." She put her phone away and gestured for Cade to hurry along as she took the escalator steps three at a time, weaving her way upward past some very startled people. Cade followed at a somewhat more sedate pace, taking only two steps at a time and easing past the other riders. The terrorists wanted media coverage and they had hostages as leverage, so they weren't going anywhere right away. At the front doors, Mandi was waiting for him. "You sure you're up to this?" she asked. "What's the hurry?" asked Cade. "They'll be there. Where do we get news credentials and hardware on short notice?" As they started across the sidewalk to the street, Mandi said, "That's Alan's job." "Might want to give him a ring and see what he's doing about that." "I already know what he's doing about it. He's doing whatever he has to." As it happened, that's exactly what Alan was doing when they walked into room 835. The two newsies from Channel Nine and the three from WNN were already there, arguing about who'd be going in to talk to the terrorists. Alan handed the video camera he was examining to Cade like an unwieldy football and asked, "Do you know how to operate one of these?" "I aim it at the bad guys while I press the trigger button." "You've got it." John came into the room and asked, "What's the plan so far, people?" "They'll act like reporters," said Alan, nodding at Mandi and Cade. "If they can disarm the situation, they will. If not, they'll continue to act like reporters and we'll try something else." A man came trotting into the room to hand Alan a couple of laminated press badges. He stood by as Alan examined them, then he led the real newspeople out of the room. Handing one of the badges to Mandi, Alan said, "You're Mary Winston, intrepid reporter for WNN." Handing the other badge to Cade, he said, "And you're Grant Parker from Channel Nine. This will be called a cooperative news effort." Turning to John, he said, "If anyone was watching, they saw the real Grant and Winston rush over here." Nodding, John said, "Okay, then. Check the gear and confirm the feeds to WNN and Nine. There'll be some deliberate static in the first few seconds and an excuse will be made about adjusting the signal, then we'll switch the feed to an in-house loop. While our terrorists are watching themselves being interviewed on TV, anyone outside will be taken back to whatever was on before."
Chapter Six
Cade left his coat and gun with John, and for appearances' sake, both Mandi and Cade were taken to the doorway of 831 to let the terrorists see them putting on Kevlar vests as they received platitudinous encouragements. When they were finally sent into the room, Hamad Marjeel stopped them at the doorway and one of his men quickly frisked them for weapons and checked their gear before allowing them to pass. The man then shoved ahead of them into the room to take up a position at one side of the bed. Marjeel and the other two men appeared to be in their twenties and thirties and wore western clothing. All were clean-shaven and only their weapons and attitudes made them look more like terrorists than a trio of off-duty yuppies. As Mandi and Cade emerged from the room's short hallway past the bathroom, they saw two women in their sixties lying stiffly on the bed. A man on each side of the bed held a pistol aimed at each woman's head and Marjeel held a black Beretta 9mm pistol aimed generally between Mandi and Cade. In a tone dripping with disdain, Marjeel said, "Welcome, friends of the media. Before we begin, do you understand that your function here is merely to record my words, and not to speak unless invited to do so?" "Yes," said Mandi. Cade had been examining the side of his camera. He bumped it once with the heel of his hand, listened to it for a moment, then looked up and nodded as he said, "Sure." "Are you having difficulties with your camera?" "Well, it seems okay now. Your guy, there, may have yanked something too hard while he was messing with it." "Are you sure it will work properly? Do you need another?" Holding the camera up and aiming at the ceiling, Cade pulled the trigger. A red 'record' light came on at the front. "Looks like it's working now," said Cade. "I couldn't get the one I wanted to use for this. Somebody probably has it out on the loop, shooting traffic footage or..." "Quiet!" snapped Marjeel. Turning to Mandi, he asked, "Are you ready to begin?" "Yes," said Mandi, thumbing the mike's 'on' switch. "Yeah. Locked and loaded," said Cade, patting the camera. His comment drew narrow glances from Marjeel and one of the other terrorists, which likely meant that the one who'd ignored his words hadn't understood the term. Maybe he didn't speak English? Or maybe he just didn't speak it well. Mandi stood in front of the camera long enough to introduce herself as Mary Winston of WNN and introduce Hamad Marjeel according to what he'd written on a sheet of hotel stationery, then she stepped aside and let him have center stage. Marjeel began reading from a prepared speech that dragged on for a good twenty minutes. It was full of catchwords and phrases dear to the hearts of America-bashers everywhere, but it also contained quite a bit of Islamic religious rhetoric. He started the speech conversationally enough in firm tones, but soon he began to sound a bit strident, and by the time he hit the third or fourth page, he sounded a helluva lot like Adolf Hitler, almost ranting at the camera. The speech ended rather abruptly and Marjeel seemed to compose himself in silence for some moments before saying, "Now it is time to prove yet again to the Great Satan America that we are not only willing to kill, we are willing to die." He'd barely begun to turn toward the bed when Cade let up on the camera's trigger, again whacked the side of the camera, and said, "Hey, wait one. Damn. Can we get another take on that last bit?" Everybody was looking at him as if he was crazy, including Mandi. Cade thumped the camera again and triggered it briefly, making the light flicker, then thumped it again. "Well, that's it," said Cade. "Did we get enough?" Raising his pistol, Marjeel thundered, "Do you wish to die?!" One of the guys by the bed -- the possible non-English speaker -- also aimed his gun at Cade and the other guy's gun wavered from the woman who'd been his target. Holding the camera in both hands as if offering it to Marjeel, Cade said, "Well, here, dude. You try to make it work." When Marjeel grabbed for the camera's handle, Cade shoved the camera at Marjeel's face like a basketball. Launching himself right behind the camera, Cade drove Marjeel across the room and to the floor, his left hand locked on the wrist of Marjeel's gun hand and his right grasping the front of the terrorist's shirt. They landed hard, both of Cade's knees tightly together in the center of Marjeel's stomach as his back hit the floor. A loud, shouting groan escaped Marjeel on impact and his body tried to curl up, but Cade was in the way. When Marjeel wouldn't let go of the gun and tried to shove
Cade off, Cade rammed an elbow straight down into his throat, then forced Marjeel's gun arm over the camera and leaned on it. There was a sickening snap of bone, Marjeel shrieked, and
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