The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)(36)

We all fell silent for a moment, and then Ms. Dale sat upright, her back going ramrod stiff. I recognized her posture: she had just had a thought. “The water treatment plant,” she said. Turning, she speared Thomas with a look. “Do you have the blueprints for that?”

“I do, but why? Tiffany said that the Matrians had taken refuge up there after being cut off from the retreating forces. They’re probably waiting for a rescue team, or possibly even an evacuation.”

Ms. Dale shook her head, a line forming between her eyebrows. “For over twenty-four hours? I don’t think so—they’re going to do something to the water.”

“Are you joking?” exclaimed Thomas, his lips twitching in what I presumed was humor. It was hard to tell, rarely having seen it in Thomas before. “The plant is almost impossible to tamper with. I researched this in painstaking detail when I was looking into ways to dismantle Patrian systems, and I estimated it would take a minimum of forty soldiers. And even then, they would need three to four days before they could do anything to the drinking water. It’s not possible.”

“Did you ever tell Desmond this?”

“Of course I did, I… Oh.” Thomas’s face fell as he settled back into the chair he’d been gradually inching forward in. “I see what you mean now.”

“There’s an easy way to figure this out,” announced Viggo loudly, his voice cutting through the room, challenging. “We merely need to ask the woman in the next room. And, as far as I know, her dose of sedative should be wearing off soon.”

I looked at the people around me for their reaction: this was part of the fight that we kept having amongst ourselves. Viggo wanted to use Desmond for information while we were forced to keep her captive. Many of us just wanted her dead. I was torn over the decision, every fiber of my being wanted Desmond dead. But I didn’t want to have to play executioner. And I didn’t want her people to hurt the boys.

Ms. Dale sighed, settling back into her chair, her fingers and thumbs digging into her temples. I knew what she was thinking. I felt the same way: Desmond was never going to talk. Keeping her around was jeopardizing us all. Even unarmed and chained in the next room, she still had use of her most lethal weapon—her mouth. “Viggo,” she said, “we’ve gone over this.”

I worried about having Dr. Arlan in with her. He had zero experience with her, which meant that if she could, she would find a way to lure him in and try to gain his trust. Which was why I had insisted that Dr. Arlan never be left alone with her. Bad enough she was here, but I would be damned if I let her get her hooks into any of our people. These people were more than just fellow rebels who’d had their lives torn apart by Elena and Desmond. They were becoming my friends. And I didn’t want to give her any opportunity to hurt any of them ever again.

“We haven’t even begun to formulate a plan for what to do with her,” Thomas interjected to the generalized muttering that had erupted around the room, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “There’s only a three percent chance she’ll reveal anything of relevance to us.”

“We have a resource in the other room,” Viggo insisted. “We should at least attempt to use it.”

“You cannot trust a word out of Desmond Bertrand’s mouth,” Ms. Dale said, her voice heavy with bitter wisdom. “She will lie and manipulate to confuse and distract us. Honestly, the only thing we should do when we go into that room is put a bullet in her head, and leave her body in the woods for the crows to find. It won’t be the first time I’ve killed in the name of the cause, but at least this time, it’ll be the right cause.”

Her words rose to an avalanche of conviction, and I felt them resonate deep within me, making me inclined to agree with her crude and brutal thought process. I knew it wasn’t right. Executing her would only make me more like her, and less like myself… but, more and more, it was feeling like a hit I was willing to take in order to spare us all her brand of evil. What else could we do? Surrender her to the nonexistent Patrian authorities?

Viggo shook his head at Ms. Dale, his brows drawing together. “I don’t disagree, Ms. Dale. But you know we can’t do that yet. We have to find out if harm will come to the boys if the Matrians don’t hear from her.”

Ms. Dale’s eyes narrowed. “I know that’s what we agreed on, but the more I think about it, the more I find it a farfetched story. It’s highly likely she’s lying, and I wonder if we shouldn’t just call her bluff.”

Viggo’s voice was low. “That’s a chance that we absolutely cannot take. We can’t gamble on the boys’ lives!”

“Ms. Dale, Viggo, calm down! Both of you!” Amber slapped her hand on the table and leaned forward, her mouth twisted in a scowl. “Desmond is already winning if we fight about what to do with her. I suggest a compromise. We can’t execute her now, and we all know how dangerous she is. Let’s go in and see what she has to say.”

“About what?” asked Thomas.

“About anything. Bring the gun; let her think we made the decision to off her. See if she says anything.”

“I’ll agree to do it if I get to carry the gun,” Ms. Dale finally said, resignation thick in her voice. “But it won’t help and it won’t work.”

“Let’s not jump to that,” I said, trying not to catch the volatile emotions whirling around the room. “Viggo, you and Ms. Dale go in and let her know we’ve decided to execute her. See what she says. If we are convinced she holds nothing of interest, we continue with our current plan—find out whether or not the threat to the boys is true, and make sure we’re in the clear before we execute her. It won’t be a lie then.”