Wait.

Panicking would be a foolish idea. You hold off on fleeing and open your ears. There are no sounds anywhere. If he were trying to kill you, you would have to imagine that he would use a more direct way. A man who excels with knives does not blow someone up from a distance. You sit tight and hum to yourself.

Within a moment, the power is reactivated and you are in your room. You change your outfit into something sleeker and survey your equipment. You have a state of the art grappling gun, one vial of Saf-T-Land Goo, a pair of goggles with thermal, night-vision and recording functions, a master's set of lockpicks, a box of condoms, nine yards of rope, a pen and pad of paper, breath mints and a five inch combat knife. Now dressed in a black catsuit and tying your hair in a functional ponytail, you are ready.

You look at the clock. In fifteen minutes, the Spy will be done with his match in the ravine. Deciding to beat him to his quarters, you sneak through the shadows and into his domain. There are many places in this lush room you can ambush him. Where would be best to wait?