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The group of hostages were literally filling the large promenade area just beyond their position, the numbers of civilians absolutely staggering in comparison to either their captors, or their would be rescuers. In any smaller area, Greene was certain that they would be a sea of huddled souls, but in the Facility Promenade they were a sparse population at best.

Even so, they were more tightly packed than he believed they would prefer, the men holding Chinese made assault weapons herding them tightly to keep a tighter rein on the hostages. Greene reached back, snapping his fingers silently until he felt the cool plastic grip of a pair of high powered imagers slide into his hand. He brought the instrument forward to his eyes, and focused in on the nearest of the armed individuals.

“Mixed bag,” He whispered, knowing that Corporal Burke was just behind him, listening intently. “Looks like a few Arabs, some Caucasians, Orientals.I’m guessing we’ve got a real grab bag of scum here.”

“Could be good for us,” Sharon Burke whispered, “Could be bad.”

Greene nodded grimly, “Yeah.”

Mixed races would mean mixed ideologies, potentially splitting the terrorists, but the fact that they were together at all meant that somewhere along the line they had decided to work together despite their differences. That spoke volumes of the group’s leadership, Greene decided. As long as it appeared that the plan was moving along on schedule, he doubted the group would fracture.

The test would be how they reacted when things began to fall apart.

He tightened the zoom on another man, frowning.

“Hold on.”

He closed in as tight as he could, feeling like he was staring the man in the face from mere inches away, and noted the bloodshot eyes and the dilated pupils.

“What is it, Sir” Sharon asked after a moment.

“They’re doping.” Greene replied after a moment’s consideration. “Some of them anyway. Modern day Hashashin.”

“Christ.” The Corporal cursed.

Greene just nodded, drawing back under cover. “Yeah, spread the word. When we move we don’t take any chances with these bastards.”

“Right, Sir.” She nodded, drawing back herself as she moved to convey his message.

Greene watched her go, thinking about the situation while he waited. Modern pharmaceuticals had come a long way since the days of the Hashashin who smoked the illicit substance that gave them their name in order to gain their `power’. Minds muddled by the drug were without fear, difficult to handle in any way other than to kill them. They were also slower to react, less able to thing.

Things were different now, though. Drugs were more potent, less debilitating in the short term, and far more dangerous both to user and anyone they might encounter. A man on the right combination of laboratory drugs could be superhuman, right up until he ripped his arms from his sockets trying to do something so clearly impossible that no right minded person would try.

In the long term, the drugs would kill the users as surely as a bullet, of course. But the damage they could inflict in the meantime made them attractive options to many terrorist groups that specialized in martyr style sacrifice.

They couldn’t all be drugged, Greene decided. Some of them had to be in control, thinking clearly and calmly. The types of drugs the Middle Eastern terrorists had come to use commonly weren’t prone to strategic, or even tactical, thought. So the question was how many men were doping

And on what cocktail

* * *

Reaching the middle of the power plant was surprisingly easy, especially since Major Malcolm’s team and Gwen had the advantage of the satellite recon provided by the portable in Anselm’s hands before they parted ways. By avoiding the areas where hostages were being gathered, they also avoided the terrorists, and while the distance to the central pylons was over a thousand meters, everyone in the group was fit and a kilometer was only a few minutes away.

As they closed on the center of the facility, the light breeze began to warm and become more and more noticeable. The moist air that flowed past them became almost muggy by the time they reached the first inner ring that announced the end of the planting areas. Past that point the ground was hard cement, painted black to absorb more and more heat.

Long tubes of black PVC pipe, filled with water, served to supplement the heat gathering system and the temperature went from mildly uncomfortable to sweltering in only a few steps. Sweat beaded on their faces as they pressed on, droplets of water condensing from the air along the glass above them as the cooler air above the glass drew the moisture out.

By the time they reached the concrete cone that marked the edge of the final inner ring, the moisture in the air had dropped considerably, though it was still present, and the wind speed was enough that their faces had dried.

“We’re almost there,” Gwen told Major Malcolm as they moved further into the artificial light of the inner ring, the sky blocked out by the concrete and steel above their heads.

He nodded, “When we get there, you hold back Inspector. My team and I will secure the control facility. You’re certain that the fire controls will be inside”

“The automated ones, yes. There will be manual controls inside the tower, though.”

“We’ll worry about those in a moment,” Malcolm replied as he held up his hand, signaling silence. He waved to his men, drawing them forward with a series of quick, unhesitant motions, and then pointed ahead of them.

Gwen risked a look around the corner of one of the large chunks of PVC and immediately saw the entrance to the facilities power control center just ahead.

They had arrived.

Malcolm lifted his hand, splitting his team with a single motion, and pointed to either side of the power control center. His men nodded silently and broke up quickly, breaking cover briefly as they ran in half crouches across the space to their target. Malcolm took a moment to place a restraining hand on Gwen’s shoulder, shaking his head, and whispered “Wait here.”

Gwen scowled, but nodded and the Major broke cover himself to join his men.

She watched them as they pressed up against the wall along either side of the control center, the lead men on either side moving slowly forward in a tight crouch, his weapon pressed tight to his shoulder and cheek as the man behind him stayed close enough to lay a hand on his shoulder. They moved togther to the door, the men on the left side crouching low under the huge panel of glass that gave the people inside the center a view outside, and vice versa.

They paused at either side of the door to the center, exchanging communication that the police inspector didn’t understand, then seemed to move as one being as they rose form their positions, flung the door open, and rushed in. The yelling and sound of gunfire penetrated to where she waited, and Gwen shivered slightly as she realized that there had been no attempt to demand a surrender.

Within seconds it was all over, and Major Malcolm reappeared and waved her in. She broke cover, hurrying over to the center, and was quickly ushered inside. She paused just inside the door, staring as a body was pulled out of the way and deposited in an available closet at the far side, another one waiting in the corner for the same treatment, but Malcolm didn’t let her stand there for long.

“Come on, Inspector,” He said firmly, “This is your show now. Get the water pumping.”

She shook her head, then nodded. “Right.”

Gwen got to the computer system quickly, and thumbed her way through the operating screens. Basic training in emergency response here at the tower had been part of her initial training, back when the police department were still a private security force hired by the tower and not the city. She easily located the emergency systems and thumbed her way into the fire control systems.