Touch & Go (Tessa Leoni, #2)(68)

I didn’t have to consider my own secrets, my own betrayals, my own dishonesty. If I didn’t forgive, then I didn’t have to repent.

“Is there something else I can do?” Justin asked now.

I smiled faintly. “Break us out of prison?”

He seemed to take my request seriously. “Libby, honey, I built this place. Take it from me, there’s no breaking out. That was part of my job, my crew’s job. The walls are tunnel proof, the floors are dig proof, the windows shatterproof. Not to mention the seven electronically controlled locks between us and freedom. Even the medical ward, the kitchen, the common areas, they’re constructed to the same standards, just stocked with different equipment. As long as one of our kidnappers stays in the control room, which seems to be their standard operating procedure, that team member has eyes on us at all times, and could shut down our escape efforts at a moment’s notice.”

“What if we could overpower them?”

“Who? How? You already took on Mick, but to what end? I got Tased, Ashlyn got Tased and you ended up with a concussion. Even if we took out both of our escorts, got really lucky and somehow subdued Mick and Z, Radar could still simply tap the control system’s touch screen, and instantaneously lock down the entire facility. We’d be trapped in whichever room, corridor or prison cell we’d started in, waiting for Z or Mick to regain consciousness.”

“And exact revenge,” I added softly.

“Exactly.”

“What if we could lure Radar out of the control room?” I suggested. “Or, better yet, if this control room is so powerful, instead of trying to get out of the prison, let’s try to get into the control room. Then we could use the control panel to trap Z and his crew in a dayroom, or a sally port, whatever. Give them a taste of their own medicine.

“Then, we could trip the alarm system,” I added with growing excitement. “Local law enforcement would have to investigate sirens, right? Mothballed prison or not. They’ll arrive, save us, arrest our kidnappers. Done!”

Justin didn’t immediately dismiss my idea. “Don’t break out, break in,” he mused. He nodded shortly, then winced at the pain. “Possible. The control room is operated via a touch screen. If you can figure out an iPad, you should be able to run the system. Also, the control room was built to serve as a mini ‘safe room’ within the prison. A place the correction officers could use to make a last stand. The ballistic-rated glass installed there is four times stronger than the glass used in the cells, meaning it would take a full hour for Z or his crew to break their way through. That should buy us enough time to sound the alarm, and wait for the cavalry.”

“So now we just have to figure out how to get their designated person out of the control room,” I said. I had moved closer to my husband on the bunk bed. Both of our voices had picked up. This was probably the longest we’d spoken to each other in months. It brought back memories of other times, when our marriage was still young, and we’d spent hours discussing everything from the best preschool for Ashlyn to a particular issue Justin was having with a bid, or who to invite to our upcoming dinner party. We’d been a good team back then. At least, I’d thought of us that way.

“We should threaten Z or Mick,” I decided. “Not just overpower them, but look like we’re ready to deliver a mortal strike. Radar will have to leave the control room in order to assist.”

Justin didn’t look convinced. “Threaten them with what?”

“A shiv?” Only thing I could think of, as we were in prison.

“Made from…? We don’t have a plastic comb, toothbrush or ballpoint pen. Furthermore, Z and Mick are following prison protocol—not carrying any lethal weapons that could be captured and used against them.”

“Z has stuff in his belt. All those compartments? There are things there.”

“Not big enough to be a knife or gun.”

“Something!”

Justin smiled. “Fair enough. But even considering their Tasers, how do we make our play? Manage to disarm and somehow overpower both Z and Mick? I haven’t looked in a mirror just yet, but somehow, I don’t think I’m as fit-looking today as I was yesterday.”

Which combined with my own physical limitations…

“Fire,” I tried next. “We start a fire. In the kitchen, I guess. Oil on the stove, maybe something that appears accidental, except we panic and instead of dousing it in flour, fan it with a towel. They’d all have to work together to put out a fire.”

“The entire facility is equipped with a fire suppression system,” Justin said. “Single tap on the control room systems menu, and good-bye, fire. Hello, wet us.”

“Then what?” I asked in frustration. “There has to be a way out. There’s always a way.”

“Ransom,” my daughter said. Justin and I both startled, glancing up. We hadn’t realized Ashlyn was awake. Now, almost as a reflex, we blushed guiltily.

I waited for my husband to soothe. He surprised me, then, by stating calmly, “I don’t think that’s what they want, honey. They seem to be after something else. I’m not sure what.”

“I know,” Ashlyn said bluntly. “I heard that much. But did you tell them about the insurance?” My daughter had a look on her face that gave me a sense of déjà vu. Then I got it. She looked like Justin. She looked exactly like my husband when he was working through a major build crisis, determined to make this latest two-hundred-million-dollar facility submit to his will.