The Good Deed ~COMPLETE~

Chapter 17: The Lockdown

I didn't move. Then, again, knock, knock. Only this time, the knocking was followed by a voice.

A man spoke, "Hotel security."

I gave Mark the, 'what are we gonna do' look. As if looking into a mirror, I got the exact same look in return.

If I answered the door, the guard may see I am wearing a green shirt beneath the suit jacket and ask to see the front of it. If Mark answered, he may be recognized by the description the maid had given. But, even worse, if neither of us answered, the security guard might use his keycard to open the door, find the laundry cart in the room and discover the man sleeping inside it.

Mark and I both stood still, listening. Ten seconds passed. Twenty. There was no sound, maybe he left. We had no such luck. Suddenly, the lock to the door clicked and the door eased open. Mark rushed to the door slamming it shut before the guard could enter.

Mark spoke through the door, "Sorry, I'm naked... I was in the shower."

"Oh, I apologize sir, I was just checking to make sure everything was ok. There's a situation in the hotel. We are asking everyone to stay in their rooms until further notice." The guard delivered some bad news.

"What situation?" Mark asked.

"I'm afraid I can't give you any details. Just sit tight until we get everything under control."

"I can't just sit here, I have plans today." Mark argued with the guard.

"Sir, I am sorry, but the building has been completely locked down. Nobody enters, nobody leaves." More bad news.

"So, I'm a prisoner in my own room?" Mark pushed.

"I don't make the rules, sir. I just deliver the messages. Have a good afternoon."

"Wait a minute!... hello?... hey ? This is bullshit." Mark tried, but the guard was gone.

Things had taken a turn for the worst. Even if we somehow managed to free the briefcase from the cuffs, we would still be trapped in the hotel. Scholtz would wake up and notice his case was gone and have his goons hunt us down. Our back up plan was to run. Which was no longer an option. All exits would be locked and would probably have security standing guard.

I am an optimist, 100%. I always look for the bright side, the good half, the positive things. My optimisms percentage was shifting rapidly into the red. Pessimism was grasping at my thoughts. I couldn't see the bright side of our situation, there was no good half and at this very moment in my life, negativity prevailed.

Mark sat down on the bed and stared at the laundry cart.

"What are we going to do?" I looked to Mark for guidance.

Mark sat quietly, contemplating our next move. He stood, paced between the dresser and the nightstand and sat again. "We are going to get my duffel bag back. We are going to get that case off of his wrist... and we are going to get the hell out of this hotel."

His motivation inspired me; I jumped up. "That's exactly what we are going to do." I began pacing myself, "Now... how are we going to do it?"

Mark looked at me, shook his head and crushed my spirit. "I have no idea."

I sat back down. I was emotionally, mentally and physically drained. I felt defeated. Scholtz was snoring louder now. He had been asleep for approximately 45 minutes. He could wake up at any moment and we were no closer to getting the briefcase, than when we first arrived at the hotel nearly two hours ago.

I had nowhere else to turn; my ideas had hit a brick wall. I called Agent Wiltshire.

Ryan recognized my number, he answered, "Joe! How's the mission going?"