When we had met up late last night, I had explained what Tim had told me and Viggo had told me about his conversation with Ms. Dale. We’d spent hours going over what we should do, and finally had decided that this was the best course of action.
Earlier in the day, I had met with Tim and asked him to show me where Desmond usually met with the boys. He had led me to the electrical substation and explained, as best he could, that Desmond brought the boys down there to hold discussions and debates in secret.
This had concerned both Viggo and me enough that we had come up with a drastic plan to try to hear what she was telling the boys. That plan included me getting lowered down dozens of feet to listen in through an audio transmitter that Tim would be carrying in his pocket. I didn’t like the idea of putting Tim at risk, but Viggo had insisted that it was the best way.
We had already considered just trying to sneak down the stairs, but it was risky—if the boys were indeed becoming loyal to Desmond, they would alert her to our presence.
I bit my lip as I pulled up the facility blueprints. Desmond had sent them to me to help with the bomb disposal project, and now I couldn’t be more grateful that she had. If I’d needed to ask for them, it would have drawn suspicion over what we were doing.
As it was, I wasn’t so certain that Lynne, a Liberator who worked in the equipment room, had accepted my flimsy excuse when I checked out the winch and rope—I’d explained that Viggo needed it for training—but there wasn’t much to do about that now. The bug I had stolen outright, convinced it was safer to steal, as checking it out officially would raise red flags. Luckily, I had spent more than a few hours in the supply closet, so I’d known exactly what I was looking for.
I studied the map, then moved about ten feet to the left of the door. According to Tim, no one would start showing up for the meeting for another ten minutes, which meant that Viggo would lower me down by the winch, secure the rope to the handrails, and then detach the winch, wheeling it over to Tim’s cell.
I would have twenty minutes from the start of the meeting to listen in. Unfortunately, the transmitter on the bug wasn’t strong enough for both of us to listen from up on the catwalk, hence the need for me to once again lower myself down into the dark pit that waited eagerly beneath our feet.
I checked my watch nervously. “You ready?” I asked as Viggo carefully applied the brakes to the wheels.
Normally, the winch would be flat on the ground and bolted in. We didn’t have time for that, so we were doing this differently. Viggo was going to brace it himself as he lowered me down, and then carefully disconnect the line and tie it off. There would be several seconds where my weight and life would be completely in his hands.
We had discussed leaving the winch there to hold me up, but I was worried it would be noticed. Viggo had expressed his uncertainty about holding my weight—which had led to a really amusing few minutes of me teasing him for calling me fat. He had already regained so much of his strength that I was confident that he had recovered enough, and I had somehow managed to convince him of that.
He was in the process of threading the rope through the machine. “Yeah, ready,” he whispered as he ran the line through the carabiners on my harness. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, his green eyes finding mine.
I swallowed. “Yes. It has to be me. You’re the only one who can support my weight. I can’t support yours.”
He nodded, but I saw a flash of doubt. I gripped his jaw. “I trust you,” I whispered. “And I love you… You can do this.”
Viggo leaned down and kissed me hard. Then I turned slowly and looked down at the pit.
We both can do this.
Viggo took a deep breath and straightened. “When I transfer the line, it’s going to be jerky. You have to remain calm and not struggle, okay. If you start swinging too much, I won’t be able to tie off the line.”
I nodded rapidly several times. “I will, I promise.”
Viggo guided me to the handrail and helped me over it. I felt shaky, just like when I had done this over a week ago, when I had disarmed the explosives, and I questioned the wisdom of what we were doing once again. But then I thought of those boys and what was at stake, and slowly lowered myself down, surrendering my weight to the rope as Viggo pressed a knee into the winch.
I heard the soft whir of the machine as it lowered me, and focused my gaze on my hands gripping the rope, trying not to think of the darkness below. As I descended, I slowly let go of the rope with one hand, reaching into my pocket to pull out a small shielded light that I had also pilfered from the supply closet.