Chapter 9: Surviving in Despair

Somewhere in the building, Hans put down the walkie-talkie and turned to the blond man behind him. "That mouse is on the 40th floor, go and get it."

The blond man, with a cool attitude, nodded and left with some men. Suddenly Hans' mood worsened considerably. Perfect plans always had various flaws. First, he lost two of his men for no apparent reason, and now this guy in front of him wasn't cooperating. Didn't they say the Japanese were all weak?

Hans abruptly raised his gun, shedding the gentlemanly appearance he had maintained earlier.

He turned his gaze back to the man in front of him, aiming his M1911 at Shinichi Aoki. "I'm sorry, Mr. Aoki, my patience has worn thin. Now tell me the password to the vault, or I'll have to tell you I'm sorry."

Shinichi Aoki, the middle-aged Asian man, did not look frightened in front of the gun barrel. He was sure that the kidnappers would not dare to kill him.

He was the president here and only he knew the password to the vault. However, in order not to irritate the guy in front of him, he replied nonchalantly, "I told you, even if I give it to you, you wouldn't be able to open the vault. You need the right three passwords to open it, and the other two are at the main headquarters in Tokyo..."

"Pam."

A gunshot interrupted her words. Shinichi Aoki had a hole in his forehead and his body slumped on the conference table. Hans lowered the gun in disgust and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his hands.

"The task of opening the vault remains in your hands." Hans didn't even look back when he spoke.

"No problem. You called me in just for this? It's not because I'm handsome?" The young black man with glasses behind him spoke animatedly, lifting a large bag before leaving the room. He was the decryption expert Hans had recruited specifically for this, a master of mechanical engineering and computer science with a dual master's degree from MIT.

On the 40th floor, McClane was still on the phone while Owen, with nothing else to do, began to examine the MP5 in his hands.

This weapon was new to him. Usually, the major case unit was equipped with Remington, M16 or M4. This type of weapon was only used by SWAT or special forces, but that didn't stop Owen from becoming familiar with it. The fame of this weapon was worldwide, compact, with almost no recoil, firing 9 mm ammunition, reliable and with good firepower. Many police forces and special units around the world had it in their arsenal.

This was the first time he had used it, but he found it easy to handle. Owen weighed it, noting that the body of the weapon was made of a special material, lighter than he imagined.

He stripped the magazine, reloaded it, and engaged the bolt. These actions were familiar and comfortable to him. The magazine was a special quick-change design, simply taping two magazines together to quickly switch from one to the other.

A ricochet in the room caught Owen's attention. He had a keen sensitivity to unusual sounds at this critical moment. He glanced toward the window with analytical eyes - was that a "ding"?

Suddenly, Owen stiffened. He was quite alert to these kinds of sounds, since taking an elevator at this moment could only mean one thing: more hijackers.

Seeing that McClane was completely absorbed in his phone call and hadn't noticed anything, Owen acted quickly. He moved to the window, examining it - how could they escape? He looked up at the roof, the windows, and the bathroom. Hope diminished with each place he inspected.

In a moment of desperation, his gaze fell on the next room. Suddenly, his eyes lit up.

Back in the room, McClane was still talking on the phone, oblivious to the outside world. Owen, wasting no time, grabbed him and pulled him toward the corner of the room.

Just as McClane was about to protest, Owen covered his mouth and signaled him to be quiet. At the same time, he pointed toward the door. There was something outside.

The two hurried to block the door with a cabinet, and McClane dragged a table to reinforce the barrier. Although the door was being pounded furiously, for the moment, they managed to stop the assailants.

The intensity of the shooting increased rapidly. McClane, angry at being ambushed, hung up the phone and joined Owen. Despite the ferocity of the engagement, they could not see the enemies, as both sides were firing blindly through the door.

The situation was desperate, but Owen did not give up. As McClane continued to fire, Owen scanned the room for a way out. Every corner, every possibility. The window of hope was slowly closing.

Finally, his eyes landed on the bathroom. He approached and, with determination, began to examine the wall.

"Damn, they want our skin," McClane muttered as he continued to shoot.

Suddenly, Owen found what he was looking for. A smile crossed his face as he removed a vent cover in the corner of the room. It was a vent large enough for a man to fit through.

"Come on!" Owen pointed to the vent, and the two began to disassemble the cover. McClane, with some hesitation, followed as Owen slipped inside the duct.

Just as they crawled to freedom through the vent, the door exploded into pieces. The assailants entered the room, only to discover that their prey had escaped through the ducts. The chase was about to begin.

The standoff continued in the building, every move, every decision, driving the characters deeper into a deadly game of cat and mouse. Meanwhile, downstairs, the hijackers monitoring the situation from the control room were following their master plan, oblivious to Owen and McClane's cunning as they searched for their own way out. The tension and intrigue grew as the story unfolded in a chaotic dance of strategies and challenges.