The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)(41)

“Actually, I doubt very much it is poison,” announced Thomas. “The amount needed to poison the water at a concentration high enough to be effective would be extremely difficult to achieve.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but that’s not necessarily true,” a voice behind me spoke. I turned and looked at Dr. Tierney, who was standing in the little dinette area, a mug of coffee cradled in her hands. If she was made uncomfortable by everyone looking at her, she didn’t show it. “There are certain toxins that would be effective, even if only a microscopic amount were used. But, I do think it might be possible that she wouldn’t even use poison.”

“Why not?” I asked, curious to hear her reasoning.

“Because she’d never be able to cover that up from her own people.”

I shook my head, trying to clear it from the simplicity of her argument. She was right, of course. Elena had too many people on this—there was no way she’d be able to hide mass genocide. And she still had her own reputation in Matrus to uphold. My former home. They hadn’t seen our video, and Elena would take pains to ensure that they wouldn’t. But simply killing everyone in Patrus and then taking over? There would be no way to explain it. That would possibly thwart her future plans, especially if the people decided to oust her.

So, if they were dumping something, it had to be something that would incapacitate the Patrians. Or worse.

“What if it’s the Benuxupane?” I asked, looking around the room. “It would make sense, right? Make the population more complicit with her demands?”

“That wouldn’t work either,” said Dr. Tierney. She moved across the room to an empty chair between Thomas and Amber, dropping into it with a sigh. “As good as that idea is, they can’t have had time to prepare a stockpile large enough to dose an entire population.”

Viggo sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “The other problem with using the Benuxupane is that it doesn’t help her public image either. It would cause a panic in Matrus if she did that.”

I nodded in agreement, and then sighed. We’d tried to make an argument for going to the plant, but wound up starting to convince ourselves that maybe there wasn’t anything more going on there than a bunch of stranded wardens. It was odd, yes, but at the same time…

“There’s still a dozen things they could be doing there,” Viggo went on. “Sabotaging systems so that the water halts temporarily, or maybe even trying to rig it so it seems like the system failed. What if they reversed the system and somehow started to drag water in from Veil River? She could chalk it up to an unfortunate accident.”

“There’s no way for water from the river to get into the water in the plant,” said Thomas. “I considered that option, but the pipes leading from the plant to the river for disposal hang over the river, to prevent any chance of contamination.”

A sharp rapping sound punctuated Thomas’ remark, and I shifted in my seat, surprise rolling over me as I saw Henrik leaning a shoulder against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. “Is this a private party, or can I join?”

“Henrik,” Ms. Dale breathed, already halfway around the table in her hurry to get to him. “You really shouldn’t be out of bed,” she chided. Henrik smiled fondly at her, his face softening slightly. He held up an arm as she drew close, slipping it over her shoulder.

“I’m fine, Mel,” he replied, his voice soft. I exchanged glances with Viggo, who mouthed the word ‘Mel’ to me, his eyes as shocked as mine must have been, and I couldn’t hide the smile on my face. “And you guys have been talking so loudly, it’s been impossible to get my mandatory bedrest.”

“Dr. Tierney, back me up here. He really shouldn’t be—”

“Actually, Ms. Dale, I told Henrik he should be getting up and moving around at this point. Although, he is confined to the house.” Dr. Tierney shot Henrik a stern look, and in response he gave her a lazy salute. Ms. Dale’s mouth was pinched, and I could tell she was biting her tongue to keep from arguing with the doctor.

“Is that what I look like when people are thwarting my plans to keep you healthy?” Viggo asked me, his eyes glittering with humor, his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper.

I gave him a considering look, and then shook my head. “You look grumpier, more like a caveman.”

He laughed, once, and my smile grew. Then he was gone—up and holding out his chair for Henrik. The older man smiled as he approached, and the two drew in for a quick hug. I shifted my seat over a little as he lowered himself in.

Seeing him out of the bed was good. He looked less like he was on his deathbed, and more like the strong, imposing, grandfatherly type I had always seen him as. But still, there was a fragility in him, in how he lowered himself down into the chair in slow motion, or how he seemed winded, in spite of how short the walk was from the hall entrance to Viggo’s chair.

I got out of my seat to make room for Ms. Dale, and moments later I was sitting where she originally had been—opposite Viggo and me—with Viggo leaning in behind me, holding the back of my chair with both his hands. Henrik took a moment to settle in, and then looked around the table with a bemused twinkle in his eyes. “I hope you don’t mind that I was eavesdropping. It was kind of hard not to before you all stopped arguing. Mind if I offer some insight?”