Code(85)

“Won’t budge.” Ben’s arms bulged as he strained to raise the grate. “It’s set on runners. Should lift easily. Something’s jamming the tracks.” Face flushed, he abandoned his efforts. “We’re stuck.”

“Always trapped!” Shelton actually stamped a foot. “Always underground! If we get out of here, I’m moving to a high-rise on a mountaintop. Penthouse! And ya’ll ain’t invited!”

Keep calm.

Stepping back into the ventilation room, I saw Jason kneel, pinch his fingers, and lift a broken wire. “Oops. My bad.”

The balloon was now resting on the floor tiles. I watched it nervously. Was there more to this trap?

“I bet he’s watching us right now,” Shelton whispered. His gaze rose to the tangle of pipes bolted to the ceiling. “A dozen cameras could be hidden up there.”

Something about the whole setup bothered me.

If the debutante ball was the target, why put a bomb down here? This building was a fortress, literally, and these rooms were deep underground. The party was two full floors above us.

The Gamemaster was ruthless. I suspected he’d want the highest body count possible. Burying explosives in the basement didn’t fit the bill.

“Why’d the Gamemaster want us down here?” I asked. “In this room?”

“To kill us!” Shelton was close to panic. “We can’t get out!”

My mind raced, trying to fit the pieces. “But we almost didn’t find this location. What if we hadn’t?”

Hi started chewing his thumb. “Keep going.”

“According to The Rules, if we fail, innocents will die.” My eyes scanned the room. “An explosion down here might kill the five of us, sure, but only if we’d guessed correctly, and were in the right place.”

Shelton threw up both hands. “Does it matter now?”

“Could an explosion centered here level the building?” Jason asked.

“Not likely,” Ben said. “The Citadel was built to last. It’d take an enormous blast to collapse this whole structure.”

“I’m with Tory.” Hi began pacing. “The Gamemaster plans to hurt a lot of people if we don’t succeed. The deb ball is the obvious target.”

“But he also wanted us trapped in this room.” I pinched my forehead, trying to force my thoughts into logical order. “It all has to connect somehow.”

No one had an answer.

Jason kicked the balloon in frustration.

Pop!

A lime green mist oozed from the torn red plastic. Jason grabbed his throat and began coughing madly. Cheeks flushing scarlet, he stumbled backward, trying to cover his face.

Noxious vapors spread through the room. My eyes watered and burned.

Tumblers fell in my head.

A key turned. Terrible insight followed.

Combine what you’ve learned to uncover The Danger.

“Oh no.”

Hi grabbed Jason and yanked him toward the door. Shelton stripped off his jacket and fanned the vapors. Shielding his nose and mouth, Ben raced forward, scooped the balloon, and tossed it into a corner.

Frantic seconds later, the air seemed to clear.

The sound of Jason’s hacking filled the room. “That . . . was . . . cough, cough . . . pretty dumb, huh?” he rasped.

“Just take it easy.” Hi thumped his back. “And yes, you’re a dumbass.”

I remained rooted, a sick feeling roiling my gut.

Combine what you’ve learned.

Heart pounding, I raced to the Gamemaster’s box, certain I’d identified The Danger. And found what I’d feared most: clear plastic tubing, connecting the rear of the device to the pipes overhead.

As if on cue, the massive HVACs grumbled to life.

My head whipped to Hi. “Time?”

“Oh crap!” Hi swallowed. “It’s nine o’clock!”

“Can we turn these units off?” I asked.

Ben shook his head. “The corral is triple-padlocked. We’ll never get inside.”

Almost out of time.

My eyes shot to the top panel of the box. Through the second niche I could see the inner workings of the sinister device.

Another jolt. I knew why the window was there.

The Gamemaster wants me to see. Now that it’s too late. Now that he’s won.

I saw two silver objects inside the machine. Guessed their evil function.

A cry of alarm escaped me.

Jason grabbed my arm. “Tory, what is it?”

“This isn’t a bomb.” My voice trembled. “At least, not the kind that explodes.”

I pointed to twin silver canisters visible through the glass.

The labels were easy to see.

Jason squinted, then read aloud. “Bromo . . . bromometh.”

“Bromomethane.” My voice was numb. “A toxic pesticide. The balloon must’ve contained a weak dose. A sample for us to enjoy.”

Hiram’s eyes widened. “We’re standing in the freaking ventilation room.”

Ben winced. Shelton covered his face and moaned.

“So it’s flammable?” Jason didn’t understand. “Explosive?”

“It’s a poisonous gas.” I had to shout over the rumbling AC units.

Jason shook his head in confusion.