Round OneMature

"Silver case," Roswell muttered, scanning the room. "Silver case..." He did a whole sweep of reception before drawing up next to me again. "I remember it," he said. "There was a peculiar six-digit combination lock on the front of it. I remember it vividly. Let me think. I came in, saw the case at reception, picked it up... And put it in the evidence room!" He launched himself off of the desk. The phone suddenly burst into life. "Stall him!" Roswell yelled, running out of sight. I grabbed the phone off of the base. "Let me talk to her," I demanded. There was a light chuckled that resonated through the phone. "Now, now, Jonathan, you know it doesn't work that way. The combination is 612322. Call me back on 0800572143 and the answer. You have five minutes, Jonathan." The phone line went dead. I put it back on the base and turned to the receptionist. "A pen, now," I ordered. "612322, 0800572143," I murmured, taking the pen from the receptionist and scrawling the numbers onto my hand. "612322," I recalled. "0800572143." Roswell suddenly appeared around the corner holding a silver box. "Jonathan," he breathed, walking towards me. As he approached I heard a gentle ticking coming from the case. "It's ticking," he mumbled, placing it on the desk. I spotted the six-digit lock and quickly entered the code. "612322," I read aloud. I glanced at Roswell. "Don't ever call me Jonathan again," I said. The box clicked open and I pushed the lid off. Inside was a time which read 4:37. It was counting down. "Jesus, it's a bomb," Roswell gasped. "Everybody get out now!" He yelled. I wheeled around. "No!" I shouted even louder. "If anybody leaves, they are dead. You hear me? They are dead. That guy out there has a sniper. He's already killed one cop; what's the difference between one dead cop and ten? Think about it. Stay inside." The panicking officers froze in their places and cautiously approached the windows, trying to see if they could see the man with the sniper. I spun back around and looked at the bomb. Underneath the timer, there must have been ten pounds of C-4. Easily enough to blow up the entire building. As I surveyed the bomb, I spotted the corner of a piece of paper sticking out from under the face of the timer. I slowly slid it loose and opened the note up. "A man is stood in Grand Central Station and asks the question 'How many trains pass through here every day?' Answer his question." The receptionist spun round in her chair and began typing away on the computer. Roswell began muttering to himself, trying to estimate a figure. "Computer says 375 daily," the receptionist said over her shoulder. "No, more like 500," Roswell interrupted. I shook my head and turned and faced Roswell. "No, it's zero," I said. "Think about it. The trains don't go through where the man is stood; the man is stood in the station, not on the platform. It's zero." I grabbed up the phone. "0800572143," I read off of my hand. "Zero, zero, zero, zero," I smiled, dialling the number. It didn't even ring once. "Well done, Jonathan," the voice said seemingly surprised. "Especially well done for ignoring your peers. 375 and 500. Well off. Good logic working my little riddle out, Jonathan." The man chuckled. "As you've done so well this round, Jonathan, I will give you a hint for round two. That bomb ticking away beside you now reads 1:27. There are three wires inside the case. I'll give you a hint. It's not the blue one." The line went dead.

The End

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