Counterterrorism in America

Seeing McClane's shattered phone, Owen shrugged helplessly. "Yeah... I don't have mine either. It's in my car."

Owen recounted his escape, and McClane's eyes lit up with amazement.

"Man, you're lucky as hell! Compared to your story, my escape was dull as hell. Yours could be made into a Hollywood movie."

McClane's voice carried a tinge of envy, though Owen couldn't understand why.

"Anyway, we can use that to call for help," Owen said, pointing toward the smoke detector and fire alarm switch on the wall. He had been planning to use it earlier, and if his memory served him right, McClane had done the same thing in the movie.

Feeling amused that his thinking matched the protagonist's, Owen was taken aback when McClane shook his head.

"No, we can't use the fire alarm. It'll give away our position."

"What?!" Owen stared at him in disbelief. What the hell is going on? This wasn't following the movie script. Had he remembered wrong? Or was McClane rewriting the plot on the fly?

Before Owen could speak, McClane continued. "I know where we can find a phone that works—a satellite phone."

"Satellite phone? Where?"

"On the 40th floor."

"How do you know that?"

"I told you—my wife's an executive here. She has a satellite phone in her suite."

Owen frowned. The plot was veering away from the movie he remembered. He silently reminded himself that his "movie knowledge" wasn't a reliable cheat code. Following it too closely might get him killed.

"Alright, let's hide these bodies first," McClane said, patting Owen on the shoulder.

Together, they dragged Max's corpse into a shadowy corner. McClane then began stripping the body armor and gear from the two dead robbers.

"Hope you don't mind wearing something off a dead guy," McClane joked, tossing a vest to Owen.

Catching it, Owen inspected the armor. His own Kevlar vest, standard LAPD issue, was designed to be worn under clothing and offered decent protection. However, the vest from the robber was clearly military-grade, with Kevlar lining reinforced by ceramic plates. It would be heavier but provided superior protection without compromising mobility too much.

In the police force, stories circulated about officers surviving gunfire by wearing multiple vests. Owen had always dismissed such tales as marketing ploys by armor manufacturers. He had tried wearing two vests once, and the loss of mobility made it impractical.

After weighing his options, Owen decided to switch to the robber's armor. He also noted that the new vest came with an integrated tactical rig, making it easier to carry ammo.

He removed his LAPD vest, stuffed it along with his shirt into a drawer, and donned the new gear. The decision wasn't just about better protection—he needed to stay undercover. If the robbers discovered he was a cop, they could use his identity against him.

By the time Owen finished gearing up, McClane had retrieved the submachine guns and reloaded them.

The weapon was an H&K MP5, a classic submachine gun known for its reliability in mid-range and indoor combat. It fired the same 9mm rounds as their Glocks, allowing them to share ammunition.

"Much better..." McClane muttered, now feeling far more equipped with his new armor and weapons.

They were almost ready to move, but unfortunately, one of the radios had been destroyed. Only one functioning unit remained, which McClane clipped to his shoulder.

"We need to move. Let's go," McClane urged.

Owen didn't have a clear plan himself. Since McClane was not only a sergeant but also the apparent protagonist of this bizarre scenario, Owen decided to follow his lead.

The two men proceeded cautiously through the building, moving in bursts. The silence in the tower was oppressive. Walking on carpeted sections was manageable, but their footsteps echoed loudly on marble flooring, no matter how careful they were.

Occasionally, static and voices crackled through the radio, revealing that the robbers were conducting a systematic search of the building. They were likely hunting for any survivors—Owen and McClane had probably killed the pair responsible for sweeping their floor.

Each time they heard nearby movement, they froze and waited. When the coast was clear, they continued.

During these tense pauses, Owen mentally reviewed the Die Hard plot again, but the deviations were troubling. There was no mention of going to the 40th floor in the movie. He began to question how much of his prior knowledge was still reliable.

It was a stark reminder of the importance of real-time intelligence. Thanks to the radio, they often overheard the robbers' movements and adjusted their route accordingly, sometimes taking alternate stairwells to avoid patrols.

Finally, a bit of good news crackled through the radio—the robbers had completed their search and were returning to the hostage hall.

However, this was a double-edged sword. Owen knew it wouldn't take long for the robbers to realize two of their men were missing. Time was running out.