The Gender Lie(41)

Desmond placed both fists on the desk. “Thomas, I have over a thousand people here whom I cannot evacuate and a little over five minutes for you to find another solution. We are here—is there anything we can physically do to stop it?”

“I’m way ahead of you, Des—I pulled up the blueprints and schematics, and I have been isolating the electrical lines. There’s a way we can stop the explosion, while simultaneously letting the detonator go off, so the powers that be will think the building has been destroyed, but it’s tricky.”

“Tell us what to do, Thomas,” Owen said. “We’ll get it done.”

“You need to get to the main electrical station that’s under the lowest level. There’s a stairwell that leads down to it from—”

I was already moving. I snatched one of the radios from the desk and clicked it over to three as I headed toward the door. I held up three fingers as I went by, and watched as Owen grabbed another radio and followed.

I ran, knowing that there wasn’t enough time to walk. I remembered the room that Thomas was describing well, although I hadn’t known it was an electrical station then. But it was the only room that sat somewhere under the pit, so therefore, it was the only logical place to go. I trusted Desmond to get the details of what we needed to do, and Owen would help me to execute them.

I ran fast, only pausing long enough to open the doors. Owen quickly caught up with me, and together we entered the lowest level, our rapid footsteps clattering down the catwalk. I kept an eye on the numbers, and then took a left when I spotted the correct row.

Ahead of us, the catwalk extended to the wall where a gray door stood, barely lit by a yellow light.

I slowed as I reached the door and pulled it open. Owen darted past me down the stairwell, his boots clomping loudly. I clamored down after him. We likely had around two minutes left. We had to hope that Thomas’ instructions were simple.

We made it down to the lowest landing, and Owen didn’t hesitate. He threw open the door and rushed inside. Winded, we were both sweating profusely.

I held up the radio to my mouth and clicked the button. “Desmond, we’re here. What do we do?”

Her response was immediate. “Find the main console—lots of buttons and levers—go around to the back and pry it open.”

Owen scrambled behind the giant rectangular control box, and I heard the sound of metal bending and flexing. I staggered behind him and stared in horror at the multitude of hanging wires.

“Got it—but there are a lot of wires in here.”

“Ignore them, pull out the back panel. There should be three electrical cords running through it. You need to cut the middle one, at the same time that Owen disconnects the circuit… one-seventy-one through one-seventy-eight. It’s on the opposite wall.”

I looked at Owen who was already pulling the panel out, pushing the bundle of dangling wires to one side. I moved over to the opposite wall and opened the gunmetal gray cover, looking at the circuit breakers. My mouth moved as I sought out the numbers.

“Got it,” I called, my voice hoarse, but loud.

Owen grunted, and then shouted back, “Got mine. On one, okay?”

“Okay,” I replied, wiping my sweaty hands on my pants before lifting them to the row. I assumed all seven circuits needed to be flipped at once, so I shoved the radio between my knees, allowing me use of both hands.

“Three… two… ONE!” Owen shouted. I slammed the switches down at the same time I heard the pop of electricity, followed by Owen’s curse. I snatched the radio from between my legs and held it up to my mouth.

“We did it,” I radioed. “Desmond—are we good?”

There was a long pause, followed by Desmond’s voice, relief evident in it. “We’re good. Close, though—we were thirty-six seconds from detonation… Good job.”

I let out the breath I’d been holding and allowed myself to sag. I sat down hard on the floor, my legs, which had been rock solid moments ago, turning into twin columns of pure jelly. Owen grunted and slid out from the panel, his hair sticking up slightly.

I stared at him and laughter involuntarily bubbled up out of my chest. Owen gaped at me as I laughed, and then broke out into similar laughter, his eyes twinkling in the shared unexpected joy of still being alive.

We stayed there like that for a while, until we felt confident that our legs would support our long climb back to Desmond’s office.



Half an hour later, Desmond’s firm grip was on my hand. “Thank you, Violet,” she breathed, pumping my hand an extra time.

I bit my tongue and returned her hand shake.

Since we had returned from Patrus, I had been trying to get some face to face time with Desmond to ask her why she had lied to me regarding Mr. Jenks’ pills that she had promised to destroy. I knew that Owen had given her the low down, and I had sent Desmond numerous requests to talk, but they’d all been denied.