The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)(100)

I studied her closely, and instead of finding animosity, I saw only curiosity in her eyes. “Let’s talk and walk.” Normally I wouldn’t have wanted to talk in a combat situation, but for just a moment, I needed to rest my heart and think about something small, and I sensed that Morgan wanted the distraction too.

We began moving forward again, both of us scanning the pipes for movement, and I contemplated her question, not entirely knowing the answer at first. “It’s hard to explain, but… when Viggo approached me with his idea, the only thing I could focus on was that he was not going to exile Owen. I didn’t care what his punishment was, just that he wasn’t forced to go for making a bad call.”

“That bad call could’ve cost you your life,” Morgan pointed out as she ducked under a fat pipe running from the building into the ground. “He gave Desmond information about us as well.”

“I trust Owen.” It was not grounded on any logical argument, but it was the truth. It had definitely taken a leap of faith, but I had done it without thinking.

“That egg thing is dangerous, Violet. Elena—the Matrians knowing that it’s still in play could be catastrophic.”

I resisted the bitter chuckle that built up in my throat, trading it for a sad nod. “Any worse than what’s going on in there?” I asked, and she paused mid-step before pressing ahead.

“Maybe,” she said. “Although, knowing the queen, she’s got a backup plan. Probably will try to breed with one of the older boys from the experiments or something.”

I cringed. “That’s gross.”

“Yeah. But it’s just how she would think.”

Considering her words, I stepped out around a serpentine spiral of pipes and paused when I saw a car sitting abandoned in front of the tall metal fence that cut across the yard, separating the concrete from the field containing the collection ponds. I knew from the aerial photos that this area housed the collection vats, where the water was stored and pre-treated before entering the plant proper. There were several massive vats that sat at ground level, each containing several thousand gallons of water.

I could see one of the wide, circular ponds sitting a few feet away just past the fence, the water dark and still, but the reflective surface glowing red.

“She’s gotta be in there,” I said, pointing to the open gate. “It’s a pretty open space, so sneaking up on her isn’t going to be an option.”

Morgan stared at the fence, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. “I’ll go in and distract her,” she said. “You sneak around her and put a bullet in her head.”

I eyed her wearily, feeling the stitch in my side still pulsing with every breath. “I don’t think I’m limber enough to sneak up on Desmond. And while my shooting with my left hand has improved some, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“You can use this,” she said, unzipping her jacket and revealing a flat black fabric that I recognized as the Liberator uniform. The material had the ability to camouflage the user for periods of time, rendering them practically invisible. “Distance won’t matter then.”

I stared at it, almost beyond shock, but then shook my head. “No, you keep it. You be the sniper. She’ll shoot you, but she’ll want to keep me alive. I’m sort of public enemy number one.”

Morgan hesitated, and then nodded, pulling off her coat and dropping it to the ground. “I’ve got your back,” she said as she quickly stripped off her street clothes. I envied her. The suit regulated her body temperature, keeping the nippy air at bay. She ran her hand through her short black hair, tamping it down again. “Let’s get this over with.”

I took a deep breath, pressing my fingers together once more. “Everyone,” I told the group via the radio, “we’ve located Desmond’s car near the UV treatment ponds outside the plant buildings. And we have a plan to take her down.”





35





Viggo





The concrete wall that separated this room from the next was ten feet tall, and the tunnel at the top of the ladder was small and cramped, barely wide enough for my shoulders to fit. But I managed, keeping my head low to avoid hitting it on the ceiling above. The sound of rushing water assailed my ears, drowning out any other discernable noises save those coming from our earbuds.

“We’re breaching the final door. About to make our assault on the control room,” announced Ms. Dale softly into her microphone. “Everyone make sure to keep the shutdown codes handy. First one there starts the process.”

“We’re moving into position,” I told her as I approached the end of the tunnel, taking a step on the catwalk that hung suspended from the ceiling. The thing creaked ominously, but held. I slowly stepped out onto it, fully trusting it with my weight, and it continued to hold firm.

“Viggo.” This time, Ms. Dale’s voice came on my team’s channel, strangely enough. “I need you to do me a favor.”

I knelt down on the catwalk, surveying the factory floor below. “What?” I asked guardedly.

“I’m missing Jay. He heard Violet’s announcement about Desmond and took off into the plant. I think he’s got some foolish scheme going on—I couldn’t stop him. There’s nothing we can do about it now, but could you please watch out for him in the area you’re covering?”