That new information spurred a flurry of activity in the small room, sending Peter into a retreat as he pressed up against a wall to try to stay out of the way. Maps were unrolled and phone calls made by the various agents.
He didn’t know how long had passed, time was a blur to him, when Voss said, “They’re demanding five million US for the release of the airplane. And they want fifty-three Pro-Palestinian militants freed. Forty of them are in prison in Israel. Mossad and the IDF are now involved.”
With the Israel Defense Force, Mossad and the Ugandan army all involved, there was a good chance bullets would start to fly. And when that happened, people tended to die. Innocent people caught in the crossfire.
Voss drew in a breath then shook his head, still visibly listening in to the negotiations through his headset. “If the demands aren’t met, they’ll start killing hostages on July one.”
Still standing because he was too worried to sit, Peter felt the room sway as he counted in his head. That deadline was only three days away. As that reality hit, he caught himself from falling with one palm braced against the cold white block wall next to him.
The motion caught Voss’s attention. The man’s gaze shot to him, his eyes narrowing as if he’d just remembered there was an outsider in the room.
Voss bit out a curse then pinned Peter with a threatening stare. “You better settle in for the long haul, kid. I can’t let you leave. You've heard too fucking much.”
Shell-shocked, he managed a nod. He wouldn’t leave even if they let him. Being locked in was much better than being thrown out. This place was his one lifeline to news about Marty, both good and bad.
Over the next couple of days, the negotiations became the longest game of sit around and wait Peter had ever been a part of. He moved through the day in a caffeine-fueled daze, snapping to attention only during the few times they received news of a change.
The hostages were finally taken off the plane and put into some building at the airfield where they were honored with a visit by Amin, who seemed to be treating this whole thing like some public event.
The Israeli government was, of course, deeply involved. They had the largest number of citizens among the passengers. They were also the keepers of forty of the prisoners the hijackers were demanding be released.
Meanwhile, the hostage negotiations continued as the clock on the hijackers' demands continued to tick.
Voss had taken a break and returned looking freshly showered if not exactly well rested a few hours later.
Peter dozed for a few minutes here and there with his head down on the table in the corner of the room and no one seemed to care.
He washed as best he could in the men’s room down the hall and survived on coffee and what was in the vending machine. Not that he actually felt hungry, but when he noticed his hands shaking from the caffeine in his empty stomach, he had decided to force down something solid. Now he was regretting that as the pastry churned in his stomach.
Voss, back manning the headphones, sat up straighter and started to scribble something on a pad of paper. That knocked Peter out of his sleep deprived stupor.
“They’ve separated the Israelis and the Jews from the rest of the hostages,” Voss announced.
Peter wanted to think that was a good sign. If they were being separated to be returned to their country of origin it would be a very good thing.
But if they were being separated for some other reason, a reason that had the bile rising in the back of Peter’s throat—He couldn’t even let himself think that. Couldn’t let that image of Marty blindfolded against a wall in front of gunman into his brain or it would break him.
“It looks like they’re getting ready to release the non-Israeli citizens.”
Peter sagged in his chair, relief paving the way for the exhaustion he’d been fighting.
“Thank God,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.
It was the shaking of Voss’s head followed by a mumbled curse that had Peter sitting straight again.
Voss finally shoved the pad away and leaned back in his chair. “A bunch are refusing to leave.”
Peter frowned, not understanding what he was saying until Voss pinned him with a glare. “Vanderbilt is one of them who chose to stay.”
Marty chose to stay? The air left Peter’s lungs and he felt as if he’d never be able to draw breath again.
“She what?” he wheezed out.
“They were going to release her and she wouldn’t go. The same with the Air France crew. They refused to leave too.” Voss shook his head. “Mother-fucking-fuck. What is wrong with these people? When a hijacker says go, you fucking go.”
“What is she thinking?” Peter mumbled, drawing Voss’s attention to him.
“It seems like you know this girl personally,” Voss said.
It was not quite a question, but Peter felt compelled to answer.
He weighed his options.
What could they do to him for lying his way in there? Short of them kicking him out of the room, he didn’t care what they did to him, as long as he wasn’t kept out of the loop of information about Marty.
Finally, he nodded. “I do.”
“You do?” Voss repeated prompting Peter to expand on his answer.
“We’ve . . . become close recently.”
“Close?” Voss said.
There was no question this man was a master negotiator. He was working Peter. Using well-honed techniques on him now. And there wasn’t a damn thing Peter could do about it, because maybe, just maybe, his being honest would help Marty.
Peter drew in a breath. “Yeah. We only met a couple of weeks ago. At the Post Pub. Then again at the Greenpeace rally. She was there both as a reporter and as a supporter of the cause.”
“Supporter of the cause?” Voss repeated.
“Greenpeace. She’s very . . . political. A bit of an activist. More than a bit, actually.” He released a breath.
“It seems you’re not all that surprised by her choice,” Voss said.
Peter considered that for a second. “I guess, now that I think about it, I’m not surprised. She’s probably staying to get the inside scoop on the story for the paper. Or hell, maybe she stayed in solidarity to the rest of the passengers. That’s something she would do too.”
Voss kept Peter pinned with a stare for a good long moment. “Do you even work for Scott?”
Peter let out a nervous laugh. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I do.”
“But he didn’t send you here, did he?”
It was a risk, but he decided to tell the truth. Besides, after not showing up for work for two days and not calling in, who was to say he still had a job with the senator anymore anyway?
It wasn’t like they could fire him twice.
“No, sir. He didn’t,” Peter admitted.
Voss bobbed his head but to Peter’s huge relief he didn’t order him removed or arrested.
Instead, he shoved a piece of paper and a pen across the table. “Write down every single thing you know about this girl.”
Happy to do something, anything, Peter grabbed the paper. “You think that will help?” he asked.
Voss lifted a shoulder. “It can’t hurt.”
CHAPTER TEN
Entebbe Airport. When Marty boarded the Air France jet in Athens, Uganda was the last place she’d expected to end up. Yet, here she was.