"Dave, I know you're injured," Sara's voice rang out again. "I'm sure you've already tried to call for help. Well, that won't work until we stop jamming your phone, so if you want to get a medical team here before you bleed out, let me in."
Nina nudged Purdue gently, and Sam watched them have a rapid, silent argument. She flicked her eyes toward the door and gestured at his wound, but he made a small, emphatic gesture with his open palm, refusing any suggestion that they should surrender in exchange for his well-being.
When Sara spoke again, the irritation in her voice was obvious. "This is not going to help, you understand. We can wait here until Dave finishes bleeding to death. Sam, Nina, maybe you'll wait it out a little longer than that. Maybe you'll stay in there a couple more days, who know? You can survive without food for a while. But I can keep someone posted outside your door constantly, and the moment you open it, we'll kill anyone we find and take the key. Or we just call the police and let them take it from there. There's no way for you to get out of this with the key in your possession if you want to keep your lives or your freedom. Give me the key. If you're prepared to promise us secrecy and give up the key, I can promise that you'll get out of here alive."
"Stall her," Sam whispered, leaning in toward Nina and Purdue. "We have to open the door, but you need to keep her talking. I'm going to get downstairs and get help."
"Sam!" Nina reached across Purdue and grabbed Sam's hand. He thought she was about to object to the plan. Arguments that it was the only option they had were on the tip of his tongue. Then she squeezed his fingers between hers. "Be careful," she said. "Don't get hurt."
"I'll do my damnedest," he promised. "I need you to open this for me."
I must be insane, Sam thought as he stood behind the door, waiting for Nina to press the panel that would unlock it. I might be about to get a knife buried in my back. Or a bullet. Or god knows what else. They might just shoot us all as soon as the door opens. But if they don't… I hope I can run fast enough.
The door slid back. Sam exploded out of the room, knocking Sara and the male acolyte back against the wall. He tore along the hallway, pulled open the door to the stairs and ran down, his feet slamming into the concrete, grabbing the handrail to pull himself around corners. He was not sure whether he was being followed. He did not dare to check.
"Well, that's a futile endeavor, isn't it?" Sara strode into the suite, her usual elegant glide abandoned in favor of a stiffer, angrier march. "What does he think he's going to do? Get reception to call the police? Does he really think I don't have the hotel security primed to take him down the second he starts yelling about throwing knives and impossible lock-ins? Sit down, Nina."
She perched in the nearest armchair, the acolyte close behind her, and smoothed her closely fitted black skirt over her knees. Nina considered whether there was anything that she could use as a weapon, any heavy or sharp object that could be thrown, but there was nothing close enough that she could be sure of getting to first. She sat on the end of the bed, helping Purdue to lean against the edge of it.
"I never should have made your invitation a plus one, Dave," she said with a tight smile. "Or at least I should have vetted your guest more closely. If I had known this woman was going to cause so much trouble, I would never have agreed to her coming. She's one of the few people that FireStorm can't help — one of those unfortunates who won't cope well with the new order when it begins."
"New order?" Nina spat. "Just how insane are you? How the hell did you get from large-scale data harvesting disguised as New Age nonsense to… this?" She gesticulated wildly at Purdue's wounded shoulder and the looming acolyte behind Sara's chair.
"Such a closed mind," Sara hissed. "You're so certain that things can never change. The world is in a mess, and it needs a strong vision to bring it back on track. People like you are the problem."
"Their vision is extensive, Nina," Purdue's voice was strained, as he tried to ignore his pain. "It's a complete restructuring of the world as we know it."
"Whether we want it or not? That's been tried before. I specialize in studying the people who tried it."
"Ah, yes," Sara's tone sparkled with forced brightness. "You're the Nazi history specialist. You, of all people, should understand how cheap it is to compare anyone who attempts to build a better world to the Nazis."
"You make it difficult not to," said Nina. Her hands were shaking as she held the towel and she knew that she should not be running the risk of talking back to Sara, but she could not stop herself. "It's not just your dodgy ideology — you're even appropriating the same symbols as they did." She nodded toward the brooch on Sara's lapel.
"Ah," Sara's slender fingers flew to the polished ebony. "The black sun. The energy capable of generating a better race. It's an ancient symbol, Nina, surely you know that? The Nazis were not the only ones to adopt it. If you're trying to suggest that the use of it indicates that our intentions are not good, well… that's an argument as spurious as suggesting that anyone who studies Nietzsche or listens to Wagner is hell-bent on genocide. Good ideas are sometimes co-opted by bad people, Nina. That doesn't mean that we abandon them. But we are wasting time here. Dave is in need of medical attention, I would think. And all he has to do to get it is give me that key."
A little way down the corridor, Sam hauled open the door to the stairwell. Flights of steps stretched before him in both directions. He ran up at first, going far enough to conceal himself while he waited for the door to open again.
It remained closed. I'm not being followed, he thought. That's… good, I suppose? But if they're not following, they're still there. In the room. With Nina and Purdue. That can't be good. And if they haven't followed, it's got to be because they don't need to. Because they know I'll go for help, but there won't be help available… shit. Well, I have to try. I can't stay here all night. Slowly, cautiously, he straightened up and ran lightly down the stairs, thanking whatever fates had deposited them on the fourth floor instead of the fortieth.
The double doors at the bottom of the stairs brought him out into the lobby, which was crowded with people even at this late hour. He looked at the long line of reception staff, wondering whether any of them were safe to talk to. Are any of them part of FireStorm? All of them, maybe? Damn it, I can't assume that anything is safe.
He walked up to the nearest receptionist and flashed his most charming smile, trying to conceal his nervous shortness of breath. "Hi," he said, "I wonder if you could help me? I think there's a problem with the phone in my room, but I need to make a call quite urgently. You don't have another phone I could use?"
The young woman smiled back blandly. "I'm so sorry that there's a problem, sir. Can I take your room number and we'll get someone to take care of it right away?"
"Room 515," Sam lied automatically.
The girl met his gaze. Sam could not decide whether he detected a look of doubt. "Room 515. Right. One of our engineers is on his way. Now let me help you with that call." She picked up the receiver of the phone in front of her. "If you'll just give me the number, I'll be happy to connect you. It will, of course, be complementary."
Sam hesitated. If I say 911, and she's one of them, I'm dead, he thought. If she's not, I might be able to make the call and get us some help — but look at her. She knows. I can see it in her eyes. She's waiting for me to make that mistake.
"It's, er… it's a personal matter," he tried. "I can't really discuss it out in the open here. Don't you have anywhere a little more discreet?"