one room, bathroom and kitchenette. a laptop computer and peripherals are on a table, along with some cell phones, a toolbox, and some jumbles of electronic circuitry.
javal is holding his cell phone next to mrs. han's face.
javal is standing in the kitchenette, pointing a digital still camera at the family. it flashes as he takes a picture.
hands shaking with nerve- and speed-induced jitters, javal turns two switches on the unit atop the tv. two led readouts light up: one shows the current time -- 2:30 pm -- the other is fixed at 5:00 pm. below, the tv is still on.
the sound is getting louder, and louder.
the family continues to call for help. as they do, we
the family stares at the tv. mrs. han purses her lips.  fighting it.  a tear rolls down her face. the time: 4:51.
the hostages can hear the whooping fire alarms and the announcement. joy looks at mrs. han, hopeful.
the family listens, frustrated, as the helicopters circle .
the fire is consuming the curtains. thick, toxic smoke begins to fill the tiny apartment, and everyone starts coughing.
the flames have engulfed both sets of curtains and have begun to creep across the floor and the ceiling.