Word Count: 48,019
Summary of Events:
Hilton decided to get the rear window of the car repaired before returning it to the rental company, so while they waited for the window to be fixed he and Mackenzie wandered around Moscow a bit and found the truck he'd sabotaged, and found out all he'd taken out was the lights and the horn. The truck dropped of Dr. Haner and the kidnappers at a hotel — into which Hilton decided to check Mackenzie and himself. One of the kidnappers left later on and Hilton followed him to the airport where he got tickets to fly to Sarajevo. After Hilton had a white night he and Mackenzie flew to Sarajevo. They had brunch in Sarajevo before driving off through the Bosnian — and eventually Montenegrin — countryside.
Excerpt of the Day:
"Feeling immensely better, Hilton turned to leave the stall and found that the door wouldn't open. He wasn't sure why it would be stuck, but it was, and he couldn't get it open.
"Bloody lock," he muttered.
He set one hand on the top edge of either stall wall and readied himself. Fixing his gaze on the lock, he lowered himself, then surged up, using the extra momentum to aid his arms in lifting himself, and then threw his feet at the door.
///
Instantly Mackenzie's head whipped around to look at the washroom entryways. A loud and somewhat metallic boom had just sounded from them. She heard running footsteps and foreign pardons that turned her to look away from the door to see one of the kidnappers emerge from the crowd, looking wide-eyed and panicked.
He didn't go into the washroom, looking at it hesitantly. Another boom sounded; Mackenzie felt the crowd was getting slower and quieter, wondering what in the world was going on, as she was.
The kidnapper stepped forward a little bit, but still couldn't seem to bring himself to go inside. Mackenzie thought the sound was like stall doors being slammed open.
A boom quickly followed by a gunshot-like crack sounded. Things got even quieter on the outside. Mackenzie hoped Hilton hadn't been shot. She heard a very serious-sounding announcement over the PA system quite clearly. She wondered if they were calling in security.
The next sound that came from the washroom heightened Mackenzie's sense of nervousness, despite its normalcy. Someone in the washroom was washing their hands. She then heard the paper towel ripping. Was the killer cleaning his hands?
After a few more seconds an unruffled, calm, cool, and collected Hilton emerged from the washroom like absolutely nothing had happened. People seemed to be somewhat relieved, but they were still uneasy. Mackenzie felt like she was going to collapse she was trembling so badly.
Hilton took up his bag and ushered Mackenzie more into the crowd while the kidnapper finally got the courage to go into the men's washroom.
"What happened in there?" Mackenzie asked.
"I went for a swim," Hilton replied dryly.
"No, I'm serious Hilton," Mackenzie protested. "What was with all the crashing around and that sound like someone fired a gun and everything?"
"The lock on the door to my toilet stall got stuck," Hilton replied, as if it were a trivial, everyday occurrence.
"And what was all the crashing?" Mackenzie asked.
"I had to get out," Hilton replied. "We don't exactly want to lose the kidnappers — although it appears that they were behind us."
"So what did you do?" Mackenzie asked.
"I kicked the door until the lock broke," Hilton replied.
"That doesn't seem like a terribly British thing to do," Mackenzie said.
"I'm sorry I don't keep up with the stereotypes," Hilton muttered."
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