“Who’s they?” I asked.
Violet bit her lower lip, and had opened her mouth to respond when three things happened at once—the lights flickered and then dimmed. A red pulsating light activated over the door, and a loud klaxon poured through a speaker located in the ceiling of the room.
“Attention, attention,” a robotic voice boomed. “Failure to input classified code within timeframe. Protocol three dash seven enacted. Personnel have ten minutes to comply.”
I blinked and barely had time to look at Violet in confusion as the door behind her swung open and a blond-haired man I didn’t recognize poked his head in.
“Violet, Desmond is on the radio—she needs you and me to report to her now.”
Violet turned to the man. “Go, I’ll catch up.”
The man nodded back and then disappeared. The siren filled the silence between us as she swung back to me.
“Who was that?” I demanded. “What’s going on?”
“That was Owen. And I’m not sure what’s going on yet, but I’ll go find –”
I had already started moving, pulling the blanket off my body. My legs were stiff and ached as I swung them over to the side of the bed. I was shocked at how damn weak I felt. As I placed my feet on the floor, Dr. Tierney appeared next to me, a firm hand on my chest.
“Mr. Croft, no,” she said, taking a step closer to me as she noted my weakness, making it more difficult for me to stand up. I batted her hand to the side. Or rather, I attempted to—I was barely able to move her arm an inch.
“Mr. Croft,” she said primly, her lips a thin line. “I spent a rather tedious six hours sealing all of those holes in your heart. Six. So, I expect you to lie down and relax, not get up too soon and destroy my hard work within minutes.”
I looked at Violet, and she crossed her arms, radiating her own displeasure.
Sensing my inevitable defeat, I let out an irritated growl, swung my legs back in the bed, and flopped back on the pillows. Dr. Tierney gave me a nod and then moved back to her desk, mumbling something under her breath. I caught the word arrogant, and sighed, swiveling my head toward Violet.
Her face had softened slightly, and she had relaxed her shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Viggo,” she said, closing the gap between us. She pressed her thumb to the lines across my forehead, massaging them. I blew out and tried to relax. The alarm bells had stopped as I had been trying to get up.
Violet gazed at me earnestly, and I mustered a smile for her. “Go,” I muttered. “I’ll…uh, be here when you get back.”
She leaned down and kissed my lips. “Thank you. Don’t worry—I’ll be back soon and I promise I’ll fill you in on everything.”
I watched her back away, keeping her eyes on me, before she whirled around and hurried out of the door.
I heaved a sigh and looked at Dr. Tierney.
“So, how long do I have to rest?” I asked, dreading the answer.
18
Violet
I burst into Desmond’s office, my breathing coming in rasps. Desmond was on her handheld, talking to a blurry image. I heard a voice piping through it, but it took me a moment to register that it was Thomas.
“It’s bad, Des. It looks like the Matrians rigged the support beams on the bottom level with enough explosive to collapse all the levels. This is why they haven’t come—they haven’t needed to.”
Desmond’s frown intensified. “How were they able to activate it? You told me this place didn’t share a direct line with them.”
“They didn’t need to have a direct line—apparently there’s a code that needs to be input monthly. No code was ever entered, so it triggered the protocol.”
Cursing, Desmond lowered the handheld, her other hand clenched. She exhaled, then took a deep breath in, relaxing the tight muscles in her face. She slowly raised the handheld back up to her mouth and spoke with deliberate words.
“Tell me you have a way to stop this,” she said.
“Plug me into the network there.”
Desmond hurried over to the computer and I stepped over to where Owen was standing. His mouth was turned downward in a pensive frown.
“What’s going on?” I whispered. “I feel like I missed the first part of this. The place is rigged to blow?”
Owen bobbed his head up and down a few times. “We kept asking that same question you were asking in The Green that one night: Why hasn’t anyone come to do something with the base? Now we know why—they were just letting the clock on it run out.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“I’m reading the code here, and it’s bad,” Thomas said. “Once the window to input the code is missed, the computer stops receiving any messages from the mainframe. There are also messages set to be sent when the detonator activates, so that they know when it went off.”