Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
He gave me a weary look. “That reminds me. The night of the treasure hunt, Ily and I overheard Master L—Larry—say that he has a guard on retainer and plans on killing you with their gun.”
“Wait, what?”
“Keep your wits about you and stay alert. Not sure who he’s bribed, but…I’ll let you know if I find out anything more.”
“Gee thanks.”
His eyes got shifty as he glanced around the kitchens. “Joyero will be busy until Christmas, especially now that Victor has allowed his guests back. We need you to keep him distracted. Listen if he starts making noises about anything we’re doing. If he sounds suspicious or gives you any reason to think he’s onto us, let us know immediately.”
My heart thudded painfully. “You’re planning on blowing the place up?”
He nodded. “Christmas Day Victor will be here, mostly alone. A few stragglers will be here too—those without a family or kids to entertain on the big day. We’ll have all the presents go off at noon. And then…we just have to hope.”
Shit.
I didn’t speak, absorbing the mess he’d just described.
Fidgeting, Peter asked quietly, “So…what do you think of the plan?”
Yes, the plan.
I had a fuck ton of issues with it.
I’d read enough books to know that the grand plans of attack and surprise never went like the characters expected them to.
Especially a ragtag bunch of people who had no experience in war.
I exhaled hard. “Want my honest opinion?”
“I don’t know…do I?”
“I’m assuming by bombs you mean smoky things that have to be lit by hand? Little fire starters that are more of a nuisance than catastrophic?”
“We’ve got all the usual household cleaning supplies. Diesel and petrol from the different generators and Styrofoam that Rachel says will make—”
“Homemade napalm.”
His eyebrows knitted together. “You know how to make it too?”
“I read. And if you intend on setting yourself on fire along with the entire island, then sure, make that. Napalm spreads in a second, melts even stone, and cannot be put out.” I struggled with another wash of despair. The waves weren’t as thick now that Ily and I had talked, but I still suffered beneath the crushing, miserable weight.
Especially now.
Especially now that I’d heard their plan and came face to face with the very real notion that…there was no plan.
Not one that would work anyway.
“Even if you do manage to fly under Victor’s radar long enough to make your little ‘presents’, hide them, and find a way to light them all at the right time, unless you have weapons, you’re just as dead.”
“Well, you’re a bag of fucking positivity.”
“I’m only trying to help. Even if you succeeded and pulled off the impossible—because it is impossible unless you have proper ignition, fuses, fuel, correct placement, structural blueprints, etcetera—it’s a waste of bloody time.”
“You got a better idea?” Peter scowled.
“Nope, but I’ll think about it. I need to know every little detail. How are you keeping the chemicals separate before detonation? What fuses are you using? Do you have checkpoints and timeframes mapped out? Who lights what? What if one doesn’t go off and—?”
“Rachel is a chemist. Mollie is a quantum physicist. I’m leaving the finer details to them.”
“Still won’t work.” I checked my watch.
Too long.
Time to go.
Peter looked as if he’d punch me, but then he groaned and scrubbed his face. Thick depression rose up and choked him. “So you’re saying to give up before we’ve even begun? What the fuck sort of advice is that? I told you…I won’t survive. I’m done. I’m so fucking done that I’m ready to do anything, even if I die while doing it.”
I fought the urge to leave. “Want to know what I’d do? What all the successful breakouts in the books I’ve read have done?”
“I’m dying with suspense.”
“Keep it simple. If this was an old castle with old wiring, that would be your ticket. Short-circuit the switchboard and start an electrical fire. Maybe try to blow up the generator tanks. Diesel doesn’t ignite easily, though, so you’d have to consider that. But this place isn’t old, and Victor is far too sly for you to underestimate him. He’s always one step ahead, and you know as well as I do that it will be a fucking miracle if you manage to get a fart past him, let alone a fucking coup.”
Peter hung his head and didn’t say anything.
I’d hurt him again.
I didn’t like it…but it was necessary.
If they continued running around thinking they were all James fucking Bond, someone would slip up and we’d all die.
“Stop making the bombs. Focus more on what’s going to happen on Christmas Day. Where will the guards be? How many jewels per guard are needed to overwhelm him and grab his gun? You don’t need bombs if you plan it right.”
“We’re out-numbered. Of course we need bombs.”
“No, you need distractions. Set some fires. Splash some petrol around to make it spread. Distract and disorient. Get as many weapons as you can and be prepared to actually use them—”